I believe I’ve finally found the sweet spot when it comes to body image. Much like the gradual journey of parenting and marriage, this realization has crept in over the past few years, bringing with it a delightful surprise. After years spent scrutinizing my reflection, feeling disappointed, I’ve reached a point where I can confidently stand in front of the mirror, take a look at my body, and not feel a wave of panic. Instead, I can embrace my curves, jiggles, and all, with a sense of pride. It’s a significant victory for me.
It took a while to hop aboard the “I am more than my dress size” train, but now that I’m here, there’s no turning back. I’m not sure why it took me so long, but I suspect my struggles stemmed from years of trying to conform to the unrealistic body standards perpetuated by the media. From the moment I first picked up a fashion magazine in the 90s, I’ve bought into the notion that “Thinner is better, thinner is sexier, and thinner is the key to happiness.” What a load of nonsense.
This body of mine—now in its 40s—has accomplished so much, and I’m proud of every inch. It has brought four incredible children into the world, one of whom is now towering at 6 feet tall. My belly, which didn’t miraculously revert to its pre-baby form, jiggles with more joy than ever. Sure, it has its imperfections, but those marks tell stories of motherhood and love.
These arms, which still struggle with “girl” push-ups, have spent countless hours holding my children close. My biceps may not be ready for the cover of a fitness magazine, but the warmth of every hug I’ve given makes them far more valuable than any model’s. And those curvy hips? They’ve carried me through countless adventures and miles of laughter.
Sure, my body is transforming, and I’ve heard the warnings: “Welcome to your 40s, where everything will start to fall apart.” But honestly, who cares? Am I strong? Absolutely. Am I healthy? You bet. Do I love what my body can still do? Yes! I can still enjoy a game of tennis with someone half my age and feel invigorated. I can ride a bike with the enthusiasm of a child and jump off the high dive without hesitation. This body still attracts my partner’s admiration, dances freely, and houses a mind that contributes far more to the world than a “perfect body” ever could.
This newer version of myself—one that focuses more on capabilities than size—may be softening and slowing down, but since I’ve started viewing my body with gratitude and respect, I’ve discovered that it’s these very qualities that make it so much more important than its appearance.
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In summary, embracing my body in my 40s has been a journey of acceptance and celebration. I’ve learned to value what my body can do rather than how it looks, and that shift in perspective has led to newfound happiness.