three copper hearts

THIS

http://www.xojane.com/fun/gallery/xojane-real-girl-belly-project-part-two

Notice how by “real girl” they don’t mean what a lot of these kinds of articles do: “socially unacceptably fat girl” which presumes that skinny girls are somehow not ‘real’, cannot possibly be plagued with body issues. The bellies showcased here come in ALL shapes and sizes. Some of them have scars, some of them have insulin pumps, they are smooth, soft, taut, flabby, lumpy, pierced, and all kinds of things in between. The bellies, along with their stories, honestly made me want to start appreciating my own.

I have hated my tummy since the moment I first felt it and thought it was disgustingly fat when I was 8 years old and putting on a seatbelt on the way to my Grandma’s house. I remember the moment. I remember thinking about those commercials for shake weights and hoping that the bumpiness of the car ride was going to help me lose that tummy. I have felt it and thought it was disgustingly fat every year since for the past 13 years. There have been moments where it’s been small enough to please me, but for the most part I have always hated its shape, how it looks like I have a second bust under my already-too-large boobs, how pale it is, how it jiggles, how it looks under shirts and without shirts. It is flabby, it is squishy and when I’m not hating it I’m usually trying to pretend it doesn’t exist. I’ve cut gashes into it out of hatred. I’ve starved it, made it throw up all its contents, filled it with awful food and too much vodka. In a body that I am otherwise usually very proud of, my belly is the bane of my existence (even more so than the aforementioned boobs which I’ve had an intense love-hate relationship with since high school).

But this website really made me start to rethink my ways. Really made me think I should start loving every part of me, even that belly of mine. Yesterday, mere hours before stumbling upon this article, I was trying on an extremely sexy black lacy dress while shopping with a friend. As we were admiring the dress and what it did for my legs, I clasped my belly and said “Dresses like this remind me I have GOT to do something about this thing.” She looked at me with what I read as shock and horror and said “No! No no no! What are you talking about, this dress looks amazing.” We discussed it no further but I was stunned by that reaction because I’m so used to saying things like that—especially in places like that—and being met with anything from silent affirmation to exercise suggestions to things like “Yeah, I know what you’re saying, my hips look HUGE, I need to go back to the gym.” 

Not to say I don’t want to up my exercise routine and eat a little healthier. Because I certainly do—those things make me feel awesome, and I wouldn’t mind losing a few pounds. What I am saying is that regardless of the shape or size of my tummy I think it’s time to start appreciating it always. Not just when I’m feeling skinny, but always. Between a lovely friend and this beautiful showcase of real bellies, I am starting to feel repentant and maybe just a twinge of compassion for this belly of mine. I may very well be on the path to reconciling with it, and better yet, loving it.

p.s. The friend at the clothing store was also the same wonderful person who quoted the Princess Bride when I told her I wanted to remove or greatly reduce the size of my breasts a few years ago. “There is a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours.”