Oh, the things I've done to be who I'm not.

Oh, the things I've done to be who I'm not.

Like...

Standing in front of my mirror for 1.5 hours so that I could press my beautiful curls between a 425 degree flat iron in an effort to somewhat resemble the straight hair of my Caucasian female peers.

or...

Leaving Disneyland after only a few short hours to go sit in the hotel and read so that my skin wouldn't get "too" dark, because my ignorant ex told me super dark girls weren't attractive (bless his soul, please).

Ooo, or my personal favorite...

Awkwardly sitting sideways in the passenger seat of the car so that the cute guy taking me on a date wouldn't be able to see my side profile. Because if he saw my side profile, he would get a good look at my nose, which I was told looked like a bird nose. I've been embarrassed by it ever since.

Wait. No. THIS is my favorite.

Letting down my entire cheer team by skipping our weekly team weight lifting AND becoming a vegetarian so that I could diminish the muscular frame that I was BLESSED with because I was told I looked too "manly".


And what did I get for all of these desperate attempts to change how I looked?
Straight hair? Yes.
Lighter brown skin? Yup.
A new nose? unfortunately no...
Muscle loss? You betchya. *along with no energy and a slower metabolism #notwinning*

But what about happiness? Did I get that? I mean, that is what we are all going for, is it not? I know It's what I'm striving for. And it's what I thought I would get by going the extra mile (or 45 miles) to painstakingly change what I looked like. Because:

straighthair+justtherightskintone+perfectnose+skinny=Happiness....RIGHT?

Well, after years of trying to manipulate my appearance to fit this formula, I'm relieved to report that the answer is actually no... I think. But don't take my word for it. I did spent the duration of my math classes talking to boys so equations aren't my strong suit. I'm Great at flirting though. like B+ (would have said A+ but I'm still not married so apparently I have room for improvement).

ANYWAY. Back to my point.

I've spent all this time and energy to try and look like someone other than what I actually look like in effort to find happiness and to become more comfortable in my own skin. But after pridefully trying this technique for far too long, I discovered that I have become MORE uncomfortable with who I am. I've grown increasingly self-conscious. I've become excessively aware of what I look like at all times, which has also made me unhealthily aware of what those around me look like (who do I think I am?? Judge Judy??).

Now, after straightening my hair so much that I severely damaged it, turning down pool party after pool party because heaven forbid my dark skin get darker, pretending to laugh so that I could casually cover my "Kobe Bryant"  nose (as one guy called it), quitting track and field because my thighs got too bulky, and living years foregoing a delicious ground beef patty to replace it with its not-nearly-as-tasty cousin--veggie patty--to deliberately atrophy my own muscle, it finally hit me like the bus that hits Regina George in Mean Girls:

Until I learn to love myself and be comfortable with my natural self, I'll be living subpar to true happiness and authenticity.

So I've decided to embrace myself by learning to love me. The real me. The curly-haired, sun-loving, dark-skinned, pointy-noised, muscular-framed, hamburger-eating me. As I fight to love this vessel that God sent me to Earth in, I'm discovering a kind of joy that I haven't felt since childhood, when happiness wasn't conflated with my image. The self-acceptance has been gradual not radical, and I still have some ground to cover, but it's happening, and I've never felt so empowered.



PROGRESS REPORT

• This weekend I enjoyed my first hamburger in over two years. It was so good that I almost thought maybe hamburgers=all the happiness you could ever need.  

• This month marks two years since I've straightened my hair! I'm loving my curls more and move every day. Even when they have a mind of their own and refuse to do anything I want them to do. Which is every day.

#luvtherealyou

Dear Body,

Learning to love and accept my body has got to be one of the harder aspects of my recovery. I've been able to conclude this because its something that I struggle with to this very second. But even though I'm admitting that this is a current struggle, I still believe I am capable of offering a little help to others.

One of the earlier assignments that I was asked to do while in treatment was to write a letter of gratitude to my body. At first I thought it would be impossible to write a letter such as this, especially given that I wasn't at all happy with the way I looked. How could I be grateful for something that I was so displeased with? I really didn't think I could to be honest, so my plan was to completely B.S. the letter just so I could check it off of my list.

Prior to starting the letter, I had an experience that sparked a change in how I felt about my body.

It was a Saturday morning and I got checked out of treatment for the day to go the tulip festival with my boyfriends family.
side note: If you have never been to the Tulip Festival at Thanksgiving Point, put it on your to do list for next spring. I'm serious. From the name, you might imagine it to be something bland, but I'm telling you, it is one of the most beautiful things I have ever experienced. GO!!! 
The festival itself was a serene experience, but the tranquility I was able to find within myself that day was the highlight. As we walked through all of the different gardens, my boyfriends little niece asked me if I would hold her. Though it was hot and I found myself to be exhausted, I loved that she asked this of me so I didn't hesitate to pick her up. It was in that moment that I was grateful for healthy arms and it was then that I realized that I am capable of having gratitude for my body despite the fact that I don't absolutely love the way it looks. 

That night when I got back to treatment, not only was I able to write an honest letter of gratitude for my body, but I was elated to do it. And I would like to share that letter with all of you with crossed fingers that you guys might be able to find things about your bodies to celebrate. 




Dear Body of mine, 

             Initially I was only going to write this letter because it was a required assignment, but as i began thinking about what I should write, I realized that I truly do have so much gratitude for you. I may not be able to say that I love the way you look yet, but what you can do and have done for me is much more meaningful than your shape.

             Thank you for my eyes. They have allowed me to see God's amazing creations. Had it not been for my eyes, I wouldn't have been able to enjoy the beauty of the many places I have traveled. And as I sit in treatment unable to visit the beautiful mountains that surround me, I am thankful to be able to sit by the window and soak in their wonder through my eyes alone. 

             Thank you for my voice and my mouth through which it is amplified. Because of this, I have been able to inspire others, connect with them, bring them comfort, ask them for help, and make them laugh all through my words. And when I am unable to find the right words, my mouth can simply give a smile or even a kiss. 

             Thank you for my arms. Today, Autumn asked me to hold her, and although i tend to despise these arms and wish they looked different, they allowed me to pick her up and hold her close to me. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel grateful for them. I can't wait until I get to cradle and embrace my own children someday. And when thinking about my future children, I am inclined to express gratitude for my stomach that i am constantly criticizing. Without it, I won't have a place for my babies to grow. And while they are developing, I know they will be thankful for the layer of protective fat that I am always trying to get rid of. 

             Thank you for my legs. This is by far my most hated body part, yet as I reflect back on my proudest moments, I can see that none of them would have been possible without these legs. With these legs I have been able to express myself through dance. With these legs I have earned a state title in the long jump. With these legs I have excelled in power tumbling and have had the privilege of entertaining thousands of fans. With these legs I have been able to enjoy running, long boarding, mountain biking, skiing, and hiking. And with these legs I will be able to dance with my husband at our wedding. 

             The last thing I want to thank you for are my hands. Not only do they make all of my everyday tasks possible, but they have also allowed me to write this letter to you that I will be able to look back on as I journey through recovery. 

Love always, 


Tay





The idea of writing a letter to your body probably sounds a little strange (and lets be honest, it really is strange), so I'm not challenging any of you to actually do it. However, I am challenging all of you to take even the smallest break from the incessant judgments we impose on our bodies and take a moment to be grateful for it and all that it does for you. And to take it a step further, I would suggest that you take a few minutes to write these down in your journal. (..oh you don't really keep a journal? well maybe I will have to dedicate a whole post to how helpful its been for me to keep a journal!)