on dressing rooms and self-image
May 17, 2016 § 3 Comments
As the days turn warmer, I am left little escape from an unwanted voice; a knowing unkindness that lurks in old insecurities.
Words once used by my father to shape my image of self, have become my own inner monologue. Toxic, unhappy thoughts that leave me curled shamefully away from my image of self.
They are the doubts that tell me to cover-up and hide away, to make myself smaller to become more.
There was a time I fought valiantly against the voice, a tender promise to my young children to model a woman of strength and good health; physically, mentally, and emotionally. I drew boundaries and set rules, established routines and tended to my well-being.
I ate well and rested intentionally, curated time for self and honored a kinder language of care. In time illusions of weakness reshaped themselves into ideals of strength. That version of myself is missing in the mirror, seated moodily alongside the discontent teenage version of herself.
Today, wrestling ill-fitting shorts in an unfavorably lit dressing room, I considered hibernating until the leaves change, sweaters are mandatory, and comfort food might be dismissed as preventative cold therapy.
I wanted to hide from a broken image of self, forgetting that a stronger version of self must first be nurtured with kindness.
I may never again relish swimsuit season, but I still want to savor the sweetness of sunshine. I’m going to think a little less about how I appear in distorted reflections and poor lighting to better bask in those places where I move intentionally with purpose and passion.
I want the image my children use as a gauge for strength and truth to be one of self-care and kindness; a reflection of happiness that can only be mirrored in choices that reflect respect and love.
scribblechic 
THAT is a terror of every young woman in this world. Taught from very early on about a body image that MUST be ‘THIS’ shape…or there is something wrong with you. Causing an emotional terror that is taken into adulthood.
To be quite honest, I think all public projections and barrages by television and radio should be banned in that area.
But probably better would be to teach an acceptance of exactly who we are, inside and out. Understanding that the love that is residing in each individual heart is greater that those who seek to demean through their own fears.
One tiny little story Marie…I hated my dad for all that he did, but many years after his passing I realised I was still ranting and raving about how I thought he treated me. And a friend said to me….’your the only one holding that anger, he has been gone for years and your still holding on’.
I was stunned, quite simply because she was right…and…I also realised he was only the product of what HE was taught as he grew up, and knew no other way to treat me.
It can be quite confronting to forgive someone we love and loath at the same time, but the lesson was to realise…it was only me hanging on to it all, and he was only doing what he thought was right at the time.
Eventually we all ‘see’ that we are only wading through our fears because of those times, and it is up to us to face, understand and release what no longer is a part of us.
Sorry Marie, I was just going to do ‘little story’ 🙂
No apologies necessary, Mark. I forgave my father some time ago. There is no anger or ill will in my memories, only pieces of my own truths as they reflected back in my thoughts today.
If you are a fan of irony, my son is typing away thoughts on feminism in another room.
lol…that should be an interesting read Marie 🙂
But hopefully in that journey, he is being taught well by very caring parents 🙂