Because I don't.
But I would love to.
I would love to be one of those loud and proud creatures who exudes confidence about her shape. One of those souls who is all about self/strength above society/size. One of those mothers who proclaims: I love every inch of this body and what it has done!
But let's be real for a minute. I am not one of these people. Instead. Instead I am critical, discerning, tough. Some days, I look in the mirror and smile and feel great. Some days I look at the tag of my jeans before I slip them on, the smallest size I've ever worn, and praise myself for caring, for trying, for working hard. On other days though, I feel, well, ambivalent, insecure. Fine. Not great, but fine. On other days, I wish I were ten pounds thinner or two inches taller, that I could magically zap that pinch-able skin around my belly. That I could be perfect.
I feel this way even though I know perfect is impossible, and also boring. Isn't it more fun to have a bit of a curve here and there, a stretch mark or a scar that is indeed a story, a uniqueness that betrays Hollywood ideals? And isn't it better to be generous, forgiving, focused on more important things? Particularly when we are raising little girls into women who will live in this world?
Speaking of love and little girls, thanks to all for your scrappy support (here, on FB, etc) after, well, receiving a less-than-kind comment on my post yesterday. A special thanks to Sister C for her articulate defense of yours truly :) Oh, and today I am linking up with several other writers at Just Write and Yeah Write!
Do you love your body? Do you think it is healthy to have high standards when it comes to the way we look, and feel? Do you wish you were thinner/taller/tanner/etc/etc/etc? Do you think there is a way to train ourselves to think differently about our bodies? Do you think that our self-critical nature vis-a-vis our bodies really has anything to do with our bodies, or is this the way we manifest insecurity about our broader lives? (Okay, enough questions!)