It Wasn't the Body I Had Expected

I remember the first time I saw my mother naked - it scared the life out of me. Not that she was scary, that’s not it. It was, however, the first time I saw my mother as anything other than my mom. Naked, she appeared vulnerable and human.

In many ways her clothes were like her uniform. Once the uniform was stripped away, she didn’t look like my mom anymore. It was startling and unsettling. Of course, I was only 8 or 9 at the time, it was the late seventies, and well...the only naked person I’d ever seen, other than myself, were the tribal women in the old National Geographic magazines we kept in the den. I was new to the whole naked thing.

Walking away from that eye opening experience, I decided to wait for my body to turn into hers. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I took after my father’s side of the family; spindly, lanky and non-curvy. My mother, on the other hand, is voluptuous and dainty. We don't pick our genetics.

When I was in my twenties I told myself its a good thing, not being big breasted. If the bad guys were ever to chase me, I have nothing weighing me down or encumbering my sprint to safety. But between careful attention to the direction of men’s eyes and the focus of media, I learned early that large breasts were a plus. Small breasts not so much. 

A young girl who stumbles upon pornography also (misguidedly), learns what the ideal is when it comes to a sexy female body. Nine times out of ten, nature and the images in the magazine collide. But looking in the mirror, she doesn’t know that; she only knows that her body is subpar. Men are beginning to feel the impact of not being the perfect, air brushed version seen in movies and in print too. Part of me is happy that they're feeling the squeeze. It messes with one’s mind, and its about time their minds are messed with as well.

Depending on the reasons for doing so, I see nothing wrong with altering oneself. I alter myself. I’ve had Botox, a nose job and hair extensions. I feel no shame in it, nor will I ever apologize for making such changes to myself; no more than I would feel bad for coloring my grey hairs (of which I have many). There are women who roll their eyes when they learn that a woman has had Botox or other such work. Yet those same eye-rolling women alter themselves every day, on different levels. But its all the same. Every time they so much as pluck an eyebrow, they alter what nature intended. Quite easily we slip into being hypocritical of one another. When in fact, we should be supporting one another. 

I believe, we should do what we want, to feel the best we can. If for one person that means a face lift, then so be it. If for the other that means simply sporting a fresh hairstyle, then fine. If you want blue hair, go for it. I see nothing wrong with that either. Try to have fun with yourself. And if your friends look at you with judgement, get new friends. The fault is with them. Your body is your blank canvas. Create what you want. Don't let the magazines, your friends or anyone else decide what colors you use.

Some women will say, “But she’s walking around with those big, new boobs as if they were her own!” Well they are. She bought them just the same as you bought those new jeans you’re hoping make your butt look good. Leave her alone and let her be. While she’s busy trying to figure herself out, let’s work on figuring ourselves out. In the end, we’re all trying to accomplish the same thing, and that is - to feel good.

Sane