Because this summer is the first in a while that I haven’t worked, I decided that I should make it epic, or at least productive. I’m going to read and write, and maybe become more comfortable with myself. I know that loving yourself is more about the inside than the out, but one of my favorite writers, Anne Lamott, talks about how being kind to your body in little ways—painting toenails, rubbing lotion lovingly into your most despised parts—is a good place to start taking care of a tired soul. So I’ve decided that I need to start loving my body a little bit at a time, and—inspired by Lamott and her Aunties—I’m starting from the bottom up. I realized the other day, legs propped up on the dashboard of my car while my husband drove, that I really have to give my gams some credit. They are not slender or long or tan. They are most certainly not firm, and they aren’t even shapely. But they carry me from place to place without complaint, and they are legs of substance. When I told Josh, he patted them fondly and called me his good little communist wife. A strange compliment, but it made me smile, and it made me reconsider what type of woman might be considered attractive. Imagine if, instead of self-absorbed waifs or even self-confident divas with their sexuality to offer, we idealized round, hardy women ready to do good work in the world. Not necessarily field labor, but work that uses the body as an extension of the inner self, desiring to serve others. I think that I would like to be that kind of woman. Who wouldn’t?
So true so true! The other day, Mike and I saw a cute athletic girl jump out of her car in nice exercise clothing and walk across the street. Mike says, "hey's she's like you! Except, her legs are small." I replied, "Um, as opposed to my thunder thighs?" He says admiringly, "Yours are workin' legs. I like your sturdy legs way better." I smiled and thought, "maybe I agree."
ReplyDeleteI think I'd like to be one of the "hardy women ready to do good work in the world" too.