Belly

My belly has been my least favorite part of my body as long as I can remember.  Just behind on the list of things I hated about my body were my breasts, which I surgically reduced in 2008 to rid of physical (back aches, breathing problems) and emotional (difficulty shopping for clothes, appearance, male AND female harassment) strife.  

Somehow, somewhere, body acceptance and love must come out of recovery.  I know it, and I'm trying very hard to get to that place.  I look nearly everywhere to gather tips and tricks on loving one's body, many of which tell me to start with noticing parts you love about yourself.  While this was somewhat hard at first, I knew there were things I didn't hate - my legs being one of them.  So, ok, I like my legs, and my arms aren't too bad depending on the day.

But the belly - this thing that juts out and in my view looks as though I am constantly just a few months pregnant.  This gelatinous glob that jiggles when I do anything and gets in the way of my clothes - since my belly is not much smaller than my hips, finding pants is annoying - if it fits in the rear and legs, it's tight in my belly and creates the ever soul-crushing muffin top.  Pants fit the belly?  Hello bagginess in the butt.  How am I supposed to accept that this is my belly?  This is what it looks like and feels like?  And if I can't do that, how am I supposed to love it?

I feel like it has to happen, someway, somehow.  It's been the bain of my existence and I'm tired of it - both being there and being such a bother in my life.

I didn't always hate my belly.  In fact, I remember as a child looking in the mirror one day and noticing that my belly stuck out a little bit, as did my butt.  I remember thinking that was so weird - so neat!  How funny I looked!  I humored myself at my strange shape, learning about myself in the process.  Somewhere along the lines, this instinctual feeling of curiosity and awe with my body turned into shame, embarrassment and ultimately my eating disorder.  Somewhere along the lines I learned that having a belly was Not. OK. 

Interestingly enough, as a child, I had this same belly as I have now.  It's the belly that runs in my family - quite seriously, if you look at all the members of my family, we are a bunch of what magazines love to call Apples.  Apples are larger in the middle and slimmer in the rear, hips and legs.  And even when I was deeply involved with my ED, I still had this belly, albeit smaller.

I've done everything I can to hide my belly, or make it flat.  I'm an owner of many baggy tops on days where I really want to hide my belly.  I've suffered through ab exercises, including one hour long Jillian Michaels workout just for abs a couple times a week.  I've cut out carbs or whatever else is supposed to land in your belly when you eat it.  I've spent hours and days of my life holding my stomach in while in public, so much sometimes it caused me indigestion from not relaxing my stomach muscles.  When I look in a mirror to see how an outfit looks, the it is the first thing I look at and the first thing I critique.  Outfit changes are mainly because of my belly - how it looks and feels in a particular set of clothing.

All this is ridiculous, I know - and I want it to stop.  I want to like this part of my body.  Even when the world tells me not to.

The other day, I happened upon a TedTalk (LOVE THEM!) spoken by a woman named Jade who spearheads the Beautiful Body Project.  I watched her talk about her experiences with her own belly, others' experiences with their bellies and motherhood, and cried throughout the whole thing.  Somehow after it all, I saw myself looking down at my belly right after watching the talk and thinking the same way my childhood self did - how weird!  How neat!  No one else has this belly (or body for that matter).  Just me, I am the only one!  This is unique!  This is...cool?  What strange things it can do, moving all around. 

It's true, all of that above.  And what else?  My belly can do things besides be looked at.  It holds nourishing food and makes sure it goes to the proper places in my body,  It's helped me breathe and laugh until I cried.  It's been there for when I've had to bike peddle up this enormous hills where I felt like I was going to pass out.  It's there for if and when I have children someday - for my life and someone else's.  It can feel pain, sadness, anxiety and is my true instinctual center for making decisions - the term "go with your gut" isn't meaningless in my world.  And of course, all bellies can do these thing - the flat ones, the six-packed ones, the flabby jiggly ones, and the ones with scars from childbirth, or surgery or whatever.  If my belly can do these things and look like one of a kind, maybe...just maybe...I can be OK with that.