I would have made a perfect renaissance woman. I have fabulous curves. No truly, I do. I recently have looked at stick figure women and actually thanked God for my body, for my soft skin and my warm thighs. Not to put too finer point on it, I think that potentially someone would really enjoy my body.
Simultaneously, I am fat. I wobble. I bulge. I sag. I oppose the conventional western ideal of beauty in every conceivable way. This has a tendency to make me sad.
Because of these two different forces tugging on my self esteem, I veer between self love and self loathe.
This is exacerbated by being surrounded by beautiful larger women. I look at them and think 'fabulous'! I think, 'Yes! Big women are beautiful!' Then, I hear them and they don't love their bodies.
One of my new favorite bloggers is C Jane who lives here, among other places. This blog of hers kind of inspired this one. She is fantastically beautiful, I love looking at pictures of her. She is flat out fantastic. Why can't she love herself?
My point is this. It is hard for me to love my body, when the women that I look like do not love their bodies. I'd imagine then, that it is hard for other women to love their bodies, when I do not love mine.
If only, if only, I could break the cycle. If only I could have enough courage to learn to love my body. Please God, give me the courage.