Body Issues- Where Are My Curves?

I’m making my highly anticipated (by me) come back to the blogging world with this racy little number. I was looking through my archives when I came across this picture. I found myself appreciating this thing that is my body, and almost in the same breath my brain flipped back to when I didn’t feel that my body was a thing of pride. And it boggled me how I had gotten to this place of body confidence. I knew then that I wanted to discuss body issues.

I think as young women, and I’m quite certain, young men, we have all had to deal with them. And if you’re anything like me, you’re still dealing with them. When I was younger, all I wanted was to get curves. Those notorious African curves, that if you’re blessed enough to be born black, are just all around you. All the time. And you know what I got? Lankiness. Just long, skinny, awkward limbs that wouldn’t stop growing. Even when I dedicated entire prayers before bedtime to being shorter. I distinctly remember in grade seven having a prayer that said ‘God, please…PLEASE make me shorter. Amen’. I will not discuss the disappointment I experienced in the morning.

When my growth spurt did show signs of slowing down, the next challenge was my curves. They weren’t showing up. Prayers changed to ‘Nkosi, ngicela i- hip-to-waist ratio e-better.’ Sigh. Let’s just say, the struggle was ever so real.

If you or anyone you know is going through this, You won’t find help here. I don’t know where your curves are. I can’t tell you why your friends are developing faster than you. Even at that age I realised that God was more likely than not ignoring my ‘bigger butt please’ prayers because there were things slightly more urgent on his to-do list. I stopped sweating it. I got busy. I excelled at things I loved and thus gave attention to. And one day I walked past a mirror and realised that my body had arrived. It hadn’t made a grand gesture, just quietly taken its shape in silence. Those sharp edges rounded out, that bony structure fleshed out and I filled out where I needed to.

I still don’t have killer curves, and I certainly don’t have a music video booty (you laugh, but it was a sad day when I realised I could never be a video vixen, even if I wanted to)…but all of these ‘limitations’ fell away when I fell in love with my body. I have a fantastic body. It’s fully functional, it listens to me, it looks after me. My body is strong and limber. It very graciously doesn’t hold grudges from the continuous abuse, all the while carrying out a gazillion internal functions without ever disrupting my life.

I know body image is a touchy subject, and issues that have to be overcome with regards to ones body are unique to each person and their body.However, there are some truths that I feel hold for us all: You only have one body, this one body is your vehicle through life, the means by which you will interact with most of your experiences. Does it not make sense to then fall in love first with your own body, bettering it any way you can? Not because of pressure from society, but simply because you understand the impact it has on your quality of life. And when you accept and love yours, it makes it so much easier to do the same for the people in our lives that matter, adding depth to those relationships because you can better understand other peoples insecurities, after having dealt with your own.

Everybody has body insecurities. Fleeting or last lasting, minor or deep-rooted. Be mindful. Be kind. Start with yourself.

Love yours.

Noni