'Being a woman'
As I’m busy blow-drying my hair, the thought comes to mind ” I love being a woman”.
What seemed to be a simple sentence took my brain on a little journey. As I was drying my hair, my brain- and heart picked apart the reasons why I love being a woman.
First, let me put this sentence into context. Growing up I have always admired men. Not in a sexual’ sense. My father was my role model since I was a child and even being 24years old and a little less naive, he is still my role model today. Second on the list is my brother. It is not that I had a shortage of women, in contrary, we have 7 times more females than men in my surroundings.
At 18 I moved out of the house and lived on my own. For the past 6years, I’ve been priding myself in learning from my dad how to fix lights, random TV problems, how to change a tire and things that men do.
But being a woman never dawned on me. Was I trying to be a man?
I didn’t know I was really a girly girl until I examined myself. I love curls in my hair, I love lipstick, Elle and Vogue Magazine, lace dresses and white and pink pearls.
And now today, we were shooting some pictures for my online boutique. I had a black leotard on. I feel like the last time I checked my body was when I was 18 years old. Boobs B cup, firm, flat stomach, slim thighs. No stretch marks or cellulite. Over the past 6years my body has changed but somehow I still had the mental image that I had my body of 18 years old.
You might think how could this be, don’t I shower and see myself? Yes, I do. Mostly I take a bath. Laying down in the bath makes the stomach look flatter and somehow water makes everything look better. I’m always in a hurry when I get out of the bath, don’t really look myself up and down in the mirror.
Today was my first shoot in front of strangers. I had a leotard on. Events leading up to putting this leotard on included starring at myself naked in the mirror.
Wow! Hello, Chantal.
I looked at my shape. My breast has grown. C cup. Not that perky anymore. I definitely need a bra now. I have hips now. I am no longer one straight line. My thighs are also curvier. A few stretch marks and a lil cellulite.
And I fell in love with my body.
With being a woman.
With the way God created us.
We are designed with breasts, to nurture and feed our children.
We have hips to carry our babies.
Our brains are wired emotionally. Some days we cry at silly things and if you ask us ‘What’s wrong? ‘ we’ll say ‘I don’t know’.
Today was a good day. I figured out a few things:
1. The reason why the bottom part of the breast hangs out of the bra, it’s simply because I went one size up.
2. I love being a woman.
Some of my friends have breast cancer, and some had to remove their breasts. Some of my friends struggle with obesity. I know many mothers. I know some people reading this are 83 years old (hey grandma) and thinking ‘You don’t even know yet what awaits you) and my point in writing this is not to say I have an awful body. I like my body. My point is, this is my body and my story.
What is your story?
Also, I’m a relational Christian. Showing my butt on my blog is probably not the most Christian thing to do. Oh well. There it is. The picture didn’t just trip and fell on my blog. I purposefully clicked on upload. #freethenipple Okay, I will never show my nipple but you get the point.
Here is a quote from a poem I like by Maya Angelou “Still I rise”
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
But still, I rise.
Ps: I've written this blog post a year ago. I'm 25 now, going on 26 next week. My body changed again. If you want to check my posts visit my blog at chantalandshekinah.wordpress.com
Published by Chantal Smith