Loving our Bodies Exactly as They Are

“What if we decided to love our bodies exactly as they are?”

I read this question on Twitter a while back, and I can’t stop thinking about it. As a woman, I’ve been told my whole life that something is wrong with me and if I spend enough money and time on the problem, I can hopefully fix it. So I’ve put highlights in my hair every few months, bought new and improved makeup to cover my blemishes, tried various weight loss plans and exercised more, went shopping for new and more flattering clothes, and the list goes on.

A few months ago I went to a skin place to treat some of the cherry angiomas that crop up more frequently now that I’m in my late forties. The technician gave me a brochure for a laser place that promised to get rid of the redness in my cheeks and chin for treatments starting at $199. As I drove home, thinking about this new redness issue that had never occurred to me before, I thought, “What the hell does it matter if I have some redness to my skin tone?”

Then I read that quote: “What if we decided to love our bodies exactly as they are?” What if we chose not to worry about redness in our skin, or some cellulite in our thighs, or grey hair at our temples, or wearing clothes we like that are five years old and not the newest fashion? What if we simply decided that we were fine as we were, and didn’t need to stress about it or pay a lot of money to fix ourselves up to meet a standard somebody else set in the first place?

In my presentations I talk about how the decision to change is the hardest step of all. After the decision is made, the rest is easier. Especially when we are trying to deviate from a social expectation or norm that is so familiar it becomes like the air we breathe. We don’t even notice it, so the idea of challenging it often doesn’t occur to us.

Thinking I’m too fat or not fashionable enough or that my hair shouldn’t be gray or that my skin is too red is under my control. I can believe those things or I can choose not to believe those things. I can decide. If I want to spend money and time on certain things related to my body, that’s up to me and I don’t need anyone’s permission other than my own. But I can also be as counter-culture as I want and choose to love my body as it is, without feeling ashamed, and this truly does feel revolutionary to me.

I’ve been dipping my toe into this idea and liking what I find. I’m the one who decides if I need to change something about my appearance, not the corporations marketing to me so I’ll spend money on their products. Just because something is available doesn’t mean I need it.

The world looks different when we decide to love our bodies exactly as they are.

Community Care

For the last few months, I’ve been leaning into the phrase community care. Now, with a COVID-19 global pandemic stirring up fear and uncertainty, it’s a critical time to examine what it means to move beyond self care and into a broader sense of helping one another.

If you’re like me, logging onto Twitter multiple times a day causes your anxiety to skyrocket (Rita Wilson, Tom Hanks and Sophie GrĂ©goire Trudeau all have the virus??!). This week, every couple of hours we faced a new coronavirus cancellation or announcement. Uncertainty is the order of the day (will schools close, should we go to this event, how much toilet paper is reasonable to buy?).

One of the biggest downsides of the internet is constant access to information, particularly when what we read or watch may not be accurate. We are all informed, but not necessarily qualified to speak knowledgeably about complex medical, economic or political issues. I’m trying to listen to actual experts in these fields instead of someone spouting opinions. I’m hoping this will keep my fear level a bit lower.

Over the last week, my panic cycle went like this: This is the end game and we’re all going to die, go stock up on food and supplies, never leave the house again, cry over our tanking investments, lose all hope. (Overall, not very pleasant or helpful.)

Thankfully, these last few days I’ve been more careful about the articles I’m reading. I’m going for more walks and looking at Twitter less. The positive side of this is slowly taking shape for me, like a Polaroid photo sharpening into focus. A global health crisis can show us the worst of humanity, but also the best. This is the opportunity for community care: for us to take care of one another.

I’ve been developing a novel about a post-patriarchy world, where capitalism as we once understood it is destroyed and something new is built in its place. Perhaps this crisis is what we need to address rampant wealth inequality and profound selfishness. Maybe it’s an opportunity to hit the refresh button on our modern lives, where busyness and status are the insubstantial goals we strive for. If we want a fairer, kinder world, the old one must disappear so that we can imagine something better.

Our world is in a true crisis. It’s definitely scary and I’m not attempting to minimize that. But stories of people helping out their neighbours who are quarantined bring me so much joy. Our reliance on technology has isolated us from true connection with one another, but now we are seeing just how much we need each other when we are facing life and death issues.

It’s a time for community care. To stay home to contain the risks of spreading this virus too fast for our medical systems to keep up with those who are sick. To change the way we look at what’s happening; to see that our response to this crisis could make our society more compassionate and equitable. The way we save lives is by working together, not by panicking and attacking one another. Community care. We all need each other to survive.

Choose Hope

Choose Hope

Lately the state of the world has me in despair. The overt signs of fascism being normalized sends darts of fear down my spine.

Last week I had to order myself off of Twitter and Facebook. What I read there about missing children and legalized border atrocities was too horrible to wrap my mind around. It’s impossible to understand how this type of poisonous hatred has taken hold and why more “decent/moral/truthful” people are not doing anything about it.

I intentionally shut down the angry, terrible, cesspool internet and went for a long walk in the spring sunshine. I wrote on my deck, chapter after chapter of my novel with scenes of hope and beauty to combat my abject anxiety and despair. I went swimming in our lovely townhouse complex pool. I re-read old John Grisham thrillers. I hugged my kids, kissed my husband, texted my friends, petted my two cats.

We all have to do what we can to inject love and compassion back into our damaged world. If we truly believe that love will win out in the end, as the Allies believed in the darkest days of WWII, then it’s up to us to live each day like it’s reasonable to hope for decency and kindness to prevail over racism, bigotry and patriarchal abuse.

Part of choosing hope also means standing up to tyranny and evil. This involves using our voices publicly, while we can, to speak for those who are marginalized and oppressed. It means taking to the streets to protest. We need numbers in this fight, for democracy and freedom is what’s on the line here. If the news doesn’t frighten you yet, stream The Handmaid’s Tale season 2 and watch as they lay out the signs of democracy breaking down, step by step. Then, move away from denial, speak up and get involved.

Spread light and encouragement and hope and inclusiveness. When you see evil, hatred and cruelty, with someone’s dignity under attack, call it out (online or in person). Give your voice to those who struggle to be heard. There is no such thing as “neutral” in the political and social landscape we are in midway through 2018. You are either on the side of inclusive love or exclusive hate. A world war was literally fought to resolve this, and yet here we are again, seven decades later, facing similar and devastating threats to freedom and democracy.

I’m choosing hope. And love. And tolerance. I’m looking to the unshakeable optimism and energy of millennials and coming alongside them to offer my help. Hopefully they can achieve what us Gen-Xers have failed to do. Wringing my hands in despair is not going to move us forward into a new and better age. We need boldness, courage, grace, dignity, love.

And hope.