The Gifts My Body Has Given Me
Words by Kayleen Terrell
“I’m sorry, I know I’m gross,” my mother said as she slipped off her top in the dressing room at Macy’s. “I have rolls.” She pouted and grabbed her sides proving to me they existed. When I was a girl, my mother and I would often go shopping together and for the most part I enjoyed it, although sometimes I was bored. In the department store, I’d hide in the middle of the circular racks filled with clothing. Pushing aside dresses, jackets, and shirts, I’d step in the center of the rack, pretending I was exploring in the deep jungle.
I never saw my mother as gross when I was a girl. I saw her as my mother. I saw her as the one who gave me warm hugs and sage advice. The one who baked muffins and played worship music in the morning before school. It was her sweatshirt I would wear around on the weekends when she went to work and I missed her dearly. It was her scent that I breathed in as I put the sleeve up to my nose counting down the hours until she was home. It was her I would try and find in the ladies section of Macy’s as I peeked out of my circular make-believe jungle.
While I never saw my mom as gross, I did see the way she saw herself. She was, for as long as I can remember, never content with her body. She would always offer phrases like, “When I lose weight” or “I’m going to get skinny” on a consistent basis. I’m not sure now and I’ll have to ask her if there was ever a time that she was content with her body. Not even just content, but did she ever love her body?
When does a woman truly become happy, content, or even in love with her body? I think the answer is seemingly simple, yet hard to accomplish. A woman becomes content and happy with her body after she accepts and becomes content with herself. Not after she loses the weight. Not while she’s trying to cram in a workout each morning by losing sleep and adding stress in order to do so. Not while she binge eats and cries in a mirror at what her post-childbirth body has become. Not when she buys a size too small in a top she loves so that she can one day wear it and truly be happy. No, not then. It’s after she accepts her body and the gifts it’s given her.
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As a teenager, I remember hitting my stomach as I flexed, pinching the extra amount of fat that sat above my hips and contorting my belly button and making a “yuck” face in the mirror. I had always felt like I had a soft belly no matter what I did. I was at my skinniest in college when I lived in apartments on campus with roommates. I was also part of a modern dance company at the time. We had workouts twice a week with dance rehearsals on top of that. I was in what I would call peak physical shape or otherwise the best shape I’ve ever been in. I was happy with how I felt for the most part but not in love with my body. I was strong, yet slender, although I am sure I still pinched what little I could around my waist.
After two c-sections, my stomach has a seemingly permanent pooch above my scar. My belly button has more than enough comfort to surround it. My daughter comments on my squishy arms as I snuggle her in bed and I seem to only be able to wear high-rise pants comfortably and still have to adjust them regularly. I still sometimes pinch around my waist. Instead of a little fat between my thumb and pointer, I get a good size chunk in my grip. My kids are four and six and I can’t help but wonder if this is my new normal. I think we are well beyond the “baby weight” stage.
Admittedly, I have not arrived at complete contentment with my body. I’m closer than when I was younger. I have a respect for my body and gratitude that I didn’t have before. But almost daily, I fight an inner monologue of criticisms and self-doubt. My hope is that none of this comes out in front of my daughter and so it takes constant reminders and positive self-talk to combat some of these negative thoughts.
What mothers say and do in regards to their bodies have significant impacts on their daughters.
My mom without realizing, while she was never super negative about her body, made little comments or remarks about how unhappy she felt in it. Those stuck with me. She treated her body with respect, but I just knew she was never really happy with how she looked and she verbalized this to me on many occasions.
While my daughter is only six, I already am very conscious not to verbalize or show if I am upset with my body in front of her. This is something I have to continually be cognizant of because my thoughts can drift to the negative side easily. A goal of mine is to verbalize the positive things I can do because of my body. I have started a daily yoga practice and it has caused me to find more contentment and gratitude for what my body has given me. Years of ballet and modern dance, two pregnancies and two c-sections, playing tag or running with my kids, teaching in an elementary classroom, hand-holding and hugs, are just a sample of the things my body has done for me.
I suppose my relationship with my body could be comparable to any relationship. With its ups and downs, it includes joyful memories as well as sad ones. It’s shown me its strengths, it’s shown me its weaknesses. It’s getting older. Time with it seems more precious than it did. I wouldn’t trade any of that wisdom in for a slimmer version of myself. I only wish I could tell that teenage girl, “stop criticizing your stomach.” Or advise that dancer girl, “yes you have a great body, but be thankful and love it for what it can do, not for how it looks.” I am sure my fifty-year old self will want to scream at thirty-five year old me. “You have two young kids! You look great! Just take care of yourself.”
Every woman’s journey with her body is different. It doesn’t make sense to compare. I know my mom had her own journey and things have happened in her life that have caused her to arrive where she is today. But I urge my mother and any woman struggling to find contentment or love for her body to think of the gifts your body has given.
Mom, think of the gifts your body has given you. For years, your feet carried you swiftly across hospital halls. Your gentle care brought smiles to patients’ faces and your hands brought healing to their bodies. Your body carried and gave birth to two children. Your knees knelt down on the carpet of your kids’ bedrooms to play Barbies, tea parties, and to color. Your mind continues to whirl with creative ideas and your fingers crochet fiercely to make things for those you love. Your arm speedily stirs muffin batter and your voice still sings a worship song. You laugh and play with your grandkids. The gifts your body has given you are priceless, as are the gifts you have given us.
About the Author:
Kayleen Terrell lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband and two kids. She’s an elementary school teacher, writer, lover of coffee, wine, and all things Parisian. Kayleen believes that motherhood requires a little grace and hopes to humor, support, and encourage with her writing. You’ll find her on Instagram @kayleenterrell.
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