I remember sitting at a large table in the bottom floor of the McNay crafting happily with my kids one day during Spring Break. Moments later I looked up to see a woman walking in the room with her own kids. We locked eyes and immediately recognized one another. There she was in the flesh. I had seen enough of her on Instagram—where she and my husband would exchange private messages, photos, and talk about how unhappy they were in their lives. I knew her from her doe-eyed pictures and elegant yoga poses plastered across her feed. It was one thing to see her online, and a whole ‘nother ball game seeing her in person.
The first thing that crossed my mind was how beautiful she was—and that I didn’t look a thing like her. Panic jumped up to rear its head, but I quietly kept myself from hyperventilating and became overly aware of the glue stick in my hand and wore that thing down to the end. Later at home, I fell apart.
My insecurities abounded after the affairs came out. Putting on a swimsuit that summer was tortuous. I felt like a failure, like there was something wrong with me. But if I’m being honest with myself, those insecurities had been there for a long time—just like my anxiety—they only intensified when the other women entered the picture. It just became easier to ruminate and let myself be haunted by things unknown.
Recovering from the trauma has been a long hard road—with no shortcuts—and I can’t say that I have reached enlightenment or anything, but I can say that I’ve slowly learned how to be aware of the things I tell myself, and that I have a choice in the thoughts I choose to entertain.
Loving myself and feeling worthy of love have been a challenge for me all my life. For some it comes easily, and this probably doesn’t resonate with them at all. There are a myriad of reasons this is my challenge in life, some cliché and others not, but it’s my challenge nonetheless.
One of the biggest ways this manifests itself is the struggle to feel at home and beautiful in my body. I am not a bikini-wearing mama. For the longest time my youngest daughter would reach over, pat my belly, and sweetly ask if I was having a baby. This innocent observation of my less-than-perfect body would often bring me to tears.
When people hear that I have four kids they’re often surprised and exclaim how good I look for having so many kids. I smile appreciatively, but it’s difficult to let the compliment sink in all the way. I have four kids and my body shows it. And it can be hard not being resentful about that. I wish I could say I don’t give a damn and wear my stretch marks and sagging skin with pride, but I’m not quite there. It can be hard to look at other women and not feel envious. No matter how hard I work out or diet, I will never have a set of six-pack abs and a size four waist—short of plastic surgery, that is, and that’s just not me.
This train of thought is the exact moment when I need to step back and realize what I’m saying to myself. It’s all about perception. When I look at other women with larger body shapes I usually notice their confidence before their body. If they look great and are rocking it out with a cute dress and a great smile, it makes me happy to see them happy—I accept them at face value for who they are. And I need to do the same for myself. No one is as critical of ourselves as we are. If I choose to buy into the lie and tell myself that I’m not good enough, then I never will feel good enough.
When I do find myself uncomfortable around women who fit the world’s beauty ideal seemingly more than I do, it’s really just a reflection back on my own negative self-talk in those moments. So what do I need to do to feel more secure in my own skin? Take care of myself for one. I’m all for self-acceptance, but I also feel that it’s important to take care of our bodies—to exercise (I bike, do yoga, swing dance, and work out about twice a week), eat right, and just be mindful of the choices we make that affect our bodies and how we feel in them. This is the only body I have, and I want to feel good in it. And feeling good doesn’t have to mean fitting into someone else’s mold of what it should look like. I’m not going to beat myself up on days when self-compassion is a little harder to practice.
Not too long ago my oldest son sat at the dinner table telling me about a friend at school who won a robotics competition and was getting ready to go on to nationals. He talked about how smart he was and ended it all by saying he was really proud of his friend, all with a contented smile on his face. I was thrilled to see my son filled with genuine joy for his friend. We can be truly happy for others even when we’re not like them. I, like so many other women, need to remember this when we’re scoping each other out. We can be happy for each other instead of envious.
I can stay stuck in the funk and loathe my body, or I can choose to embrace my imperfect beauty. I am who I am, and I am just as worthy of love as the next woman. Every woman struggles with some part of her body in one way or another, and my having stretch marks and a muffin top is no excuse to give into the pity party my mind wants to throw itself. Just like the saying that money only magnifies who you are, the same goes with having a perfect body. We have to choose to be happy with who we are and where we are right now, or we’ll never be happy in our skin, no matter the circumstance.
Being single and reentering the dating world as a mother makes self-love a challenge at times. In the world of apps and online dating, it can often feel like finding a mate is one big competition. To some it may very well be, but I think what’s really sexy is when a woman feels at ease in her own skin—married, single, mother, childless, tall, short, big, skinny, or somewhere in between. Self-compassion and -acceptance is captivating.
Be happy in your bodies, mamas. And if you’re not, find what will healthily help you get there. Whether it’s finding movement through yoga or dancing, feeling satisfied after a delicious home cooked meal, or buying yourself the darndest cute dress out there, celebrate and honor your body. Find its strength and quit chiding yourself for its flaws.
And let’s be happy for those around us who don’t struggle with the same particular imperfections we do. We all face challenges in different ways in this life, and we all have beauty within us and are worthy of love—from others and ourselves. I know now that it was never a competition between me and the other women. My life-giving body is beautiful, and I’m going to do my best to start wearing myself with pride, dammit.
