With all the body positivity going around these days, which of course I applaud, I feel like I should be all, “Oh, my glorious, glorious body, I honor thee as thy molds thyself anew.” But I’m not. I don’t honor my period either. It’s messy, hurts like hell, and costs me money.
I live with a dude who’s three years older than me and his body isn’t morphing like mine. He doesn’t exercise or eat any more than I do. F’ing metabolism.
I knew my old, or I guess I should say former, body. I had more than one pair of pants that fit. Getting dressed in the morning took mere seconds. Clothes shopping wasn’t a guessing game.
Listen, I’m not in a place where I can just buy all new clothes. I’m not going to exercise myself to death either. But that whole “love your body” thing is hard. And kind of shaming. What’s wrong with me if I don’t love my body? I don’t feel like welcoming this ever-changing stranger like, “Hey gorgeous! What’s up?” And it’s not fair to make me, or anyone else, feel bad about it.
Aging comes with all sorts of unexpected fun. No matter how much people tell you what to expect, it really doesn’t hit home until it happens to you. And to have people judging you as you process through all the changes frankly sucks.
I like change. A lot. But what I don’t like is is when it’s a) inconsistent, b) unpredictable, and c) going to cost me tons of money. People who don’t like their bodies don’t always have some incredibly harmful “disorder” (don’t get me started).
So if you want to take my feminist card away, go ahead. I was never actually given one in the first place, by the way. But before you try to take it, think of how shaming people’s feelings about their bodies impacts a range of folks. Not just growing older but how about growing breasts? How about after an illness?
Pressuring people to feel like you do, or experience what you did, doesn’t help anyone. So you do you, but leave the rest of us alone.