I don’t…

The Restorative Sauna Session

I’ve found myself in the middle of a very lovely group of earthy women. I know a few of them from my belly dancing days. We had a super fun sauna experience on Sunday, which included a group photo of our bare bums in the cold prairie. Yes, I said bums. We called it “toques and boots and butts.” The age range of our group is approximately 40 to 77—just gorgeous women. It was fun and funny and freeing. All the things this group of women deserved and needed. The photo turned out great!

When we went back into the sauna to warm up (very much needed), one of the women started talking about low self-image. She said it was interesting that we all embraced our nakedness, considering the pressure of societal expectations. We seem to spend our lives not being content in our bodies, carrying this idea of perfection.

I don’t…

I said it—out loud. Very quietly, but I said it. I didn’t say it to hurt anyone or to come across as better than. I was just really relaxed, letting the sweat and steam roll over my body, taking in her words, and thinking: I don’t actually care what someone else thinks of my body. Before I had a chance to hit my pause button, the words “I don’t” came out.

Then my face did that apologetic thing. I didn’t mean to come across as anything. At all. I understand that journey—I used to feel it too—but I’m in a different place now. I don’t think in terms of standards or comparisons anymore. I do my best to stay healthy and to feel good.

I’m saying goodbye to my fifties in a few short years, and I’m so grateful for the condition of my human sack. I say that with a smile.

I truly, calmly, and peacefully love my body.

It’s Been a Journey

I’ve always thought that growth isn’t the flip of a switch, but more like slowly tuning a dial to a static-free channel. One day, it just comes in crystal clear.

I used to be overweight. I used to have acne. I had low self-esteem and thought I was short, stumpy, and unattractive. My self-image included rolls upon rolls of unwanted fat. Not true at all. When I would see photos of myself, I was always surprised—I looked better than I thought I did. Today, they call it body dysmorphia.

When I think about what my body has done for me, I think about belly dancing, hiking mountains, swimming kilometers, stretching, sweating, using my arms to swing paintbrushes and throwing clay. I’ve gardened and helped build houses. I couldn’t have done any of this without my body carrying me through it. My physical health has been great, essentially my whole life. So, to thank her, I love her. I’m proud of her. And I don’t wait for other opinions.

If you had asked 15-year-old Angie how she felt, she wouldn’t have said anything positive. If 25-year-old Angie were polled, she would have agreed. Even thirty-something Angie leaned negatively. But somewhere after that, I started paying attention in a different way—and I’m so glad my perception shifted. Marianne Williamson says that’s a miracle. She’s right. Yay to miracles.

As always, thank you for reading, Lovelies.

And yes—the photo I took for this post isn’t the most forgiving angle… but isn’t that the point?