I’ve finally found my groove when it comes to body image. Much like the journey of parenting and relationships, it has evolved over the years, revealing itself as a delightful surprise. After countless years of scrutinizing my reflection and feeling let down, I can now stand confidently in front of the mirror, even catch a glimpse of my backside, without a moment of panic. That’s what I call a personal victory! I can sway my hips to my heart’s content, even playfully pat my dimpled rear end while celebrating this newfound acceptance.
It took me a while to hop on the “I am more than a dress size” train, but now that I’m onboard, I have no intention of getting off. Why it took me so long is a mystery, but I suspect it had a lot to do with years of trying to conform to the unrealistic beauty standards bombarding us from every angle. Since the day I flipped through my first Seventeen magazine back in 1988, I’ve been misled by the notion that “thinner equals better, thinner is sexier, and thinner is the key to happiness.” What a load of nonsense!
Let me tell you about my 44-year-old body and all it can do, and I’m proud to say I’m not a size 4 anymore. This body has brought four beautiful children into the world, one of whom now towers at 6 feet tall. Yes, that belly of mine didn’t bounce back to a flat stomach after giving birth to four babies, the skin now drapes over C-section scars, and it jiggles. But you know what? It jiggles with a joy that rivals Santa Claus’s belly—pass the peppermint bark!
This body has nourished those four little humans with breasts that have seen better days, now resembling empty sock puppets in desperate need of support. Sure, I’d love a bra that could lift and separate what gravity has brought down, but I wouldn’t change the experiences I’ve had for anything. Those breasts fed and nurtured my children, and that’s the story I want celebrated, not the size of my cup.
My arms, though they still struggle with “girl” push-ups, have spent countless hours hoisting 30-pound toddlers and wrestling them in and out of car seats. While my biceps may not be ready for sleeveless tops, the warmth of the hugs I’ve given my kids makes them more deserving of a magazine cover than the skinny models gracing the pages.
And let’s talk about these curvy hips and thick thighs. Yes, they chafe when I run, but they’ve carried me more miles than I can recall in the past decade. Sure, I’ve heard the warnings about getting older—“You’re in your 40s now? Just wait for everything to start falling apart.” But who cares? Am I strong? Absolutely. Am I healthy? You bet. Do I love my body? More than ever!
I cherish the fact that I can still play tennis with friends of all ages, ride a bike with the enthusiasm of a child, kick a soccer ball around with my sons, and leap off the high dive without a second thought. I love that my husband still finds me attractive, that I can dance to rap music, and that my mind is filled with ideas that contribute more to the world than a “perfect body” ever could. My heart beats with a passion and joy that far surpasses what it felt like in a smaller frame.
This new version of myself—one that’s less concerned with being smaller or sexier—may be softening and slowing down, but since I began to appreciate it with gratitude and awe, I’ve discovered that it’s the capabilities of my body that hold far more importance than its appearance.
If you’re curious about more insights on body image and self-acceptance, check out this blog post. And if you’re looking for a reliable source for at-home insemination options, visit Make A Mom. For those navigating the journey of pregnancy, the CDC offers fantastic resources to support your path.
Summary
Embracing body image in your 40s can be liberating. As we shift our focus from societal standards to self-acceptance, we can find joy in our bodies’ capabilities. This journey reflects the importance of appreciating who we are, regardless of size or shape.
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