In spite of my inclination to strip all of my clothes off as soon as I enter into my apartment, (I live alone), I find that I am not the most confident of women when it comes to my body and my perception of it. I find myself in hyper-critical mode often; unable to accept a certain level of age-related droopiness or stretchiness related to four kids in three pregnancies. I am marked, in the same way that many of my women friends and acquaintances, by the false belief that my strong and supple body, (for almost 50), is deeply flawed and imperfect.
What’s really kind of ironic is that I make my living off of my body; and I’m really fortunate that I have had very few injuries, accidents or illnesses in many many years. I am strong and I am healthy and this year, as a result of all of the yoga work that I do, I have had to begin the process of taking all of my clothes, a little bit at a time, to the tailor to be taken in by 2 sizes!
The love/hate relationship really, and there is no other way to say it, pisses me off and causes me to wallow around in some kind of crazy place where I am bartering my yoga services for ample plastic surgery. It’s way beyond silly and I am going to begin, from today forward, to dismantle the prejudices I have toward my bodily self. I’m convinced that this negative view I perpetuate about certain parts of my body prevents me from the fullest expresssion of my most authentic me. I no longer want to stay stuck. I really do want to believe completely in my own fresh and juicy external beauty.
It’s a process to access with courage the vulnerable places within me that are keeping me from a balanced and shimmery peace. I want to arrive there; broken open and fearless, able to freely and fully be in mind, spirit and body… so that when I strip at the top of the stairs, I will boogie with joy, all the way to the bedroom, basking in the glow of my bodacious audacious self.