I had to take a break from The Height Chronicles because they just weren't coming. I mean, look, I've gone a whole week and still haven't gotten anything good for the next installment. So, here's a consolation prize that's been weighing on my mind.
Oh hello, when did you get there, road map on my butt? If an emoticon weren't inappropriate for a semi-formal blog, I'd put this one: D:<
Yeah, I've had stretch marks from a very young age. I guess I must've been ten or eleven. They're not even the stretch marks that come from becoming a woman; they're the "oh crap, I got fat fast" kind. They're atrocious, they're everywhere and I really hate them. (See? They even make me ruin my grammar... stupid things.)
I have two major concerns with them. The lesser of the two has already been mentioned: they're the result of something that could've been prevented. I stopped running around and playing real games at some point in my life and I just kept eating and eating. I packed on a lot of weight in a very short amount of time and the multitudinous stretch marks were born. I was young, so I know it wasn't entirely my fault. My parents probably should've stepped in and said, "Don't eat that third twice baked potato half" but they didn't, so, what's done is done. I managed to look like a much less fat individual so, no big. But the stretch marks are still there, unyielding. I had no idea I'd get them and that they'd never go away. But they were still preventable. Obviously, this is quite the dilemma in my mind (though, I guess not a dilemma as a mash of ideas, seeing as there aren't really just two sides). I guess I just regret not knowing about them or something. Heck, I don't know. But, the fact that they're still there leads to the second major concern.
This concern's far more poignant and personal and I think I have to preface it with this: I don't think any girl is entirely comfortable with herself naked. As such, we're all terribly concerned about presenting ourselves to a husband. What will he think when the clothes come off and I've got this unsightly blemish? What will he think when he touches me and there is a gross, not-smooth feeling to my skin because of those past mistakes? How can I be comfortable not knowing what he's thinking about me and my body?
I was talking about this in more general terms with one of my friends. She expressed similar concern. "But," she said, "He's not going to be thinking about that. You know." We smirked and shook our heads. Yeah, she's right. He's not going to marry me and then not love me all the sudden. Heck, he probably won't even think, "Whoa, gross, what are these strange scar things?"
But there's still this concern that we're going to be totally vulnerable and there might be some judgment happening.
Also, I apologize to anyone who might've felt that that was more information than necessary, but I'm fairly sure that someone has to say it. For the men who may/might read this blog... yeah, I don't know what the message is to you. Appreciate your women, maybe. Realize that we're very, very, severely self-conscious.
But, getting back to things, lemme just say that my stretch marks make me really excited about the Resurrection.
Wait--this blog is about accepting physical flaws? Well, piece of crap, I guess I should learn to love them or something. But how the heck am I going to do that?
No, they don't make me any more a woman.
No, they aren't something that someone once appreciated in the past.
No, God didn't give these to me.
There's nothing left. Except that, maybe, they've reminded me not to let my body get carried away? They're there to kind of let me know that I'm not totally perfect and that I have things I have to get over, too.
For most women, stretch marks can get passed off on the first item of the list. They got their stretch marks because their hips or whatever got big really quickly. "Look, I'm a real woman!" they can say. Lucky them. I have a few of those. And I don't have an issue with those ones. So, maybe just--
Stroke of brilliance! My stretch marks, like the feminine ones, can remind me how far I've come. I used to be pudgy enough to merit those stretch marks. Now, I'm not! Perfect. I'm beautiful with them because I don't need them.
Advice to you, struggling to get over some aspect of your body: write it down! I definitely started this blog entry with no idea how I was going to accept my stretch marks, but look at that! I have a reason to like them a little. W00t.
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