As in, it’s a real body. Designed to, you know, DO STUFF. Like move one foot in front of the other and propel you forward. Like get your brain to tell your arms to lift up into the air, and wave around like you just don’t care. All that kind of stuff.
Lately I’ve been pressing my nose a little too close to the mirror to scrutinise the wrinkles around my eyes and the size of my pores on my nose and little blemishes on my face. When I’m done with that, I take off my shirt and stand in my undies, turn sideways and bemoan my little pot belly and my nothing boobies and my everything that is wrong with me.
But what the hell is wrong with me??
Bloody nothing, except for the fact that I do not look like anyone from Who Weekly, or these women in the pics above (who I’m sure are lovely people). I shouldn’t care, because for the most part I am healthy and well fed, and anything that is unhealthy about me is my own fault because I over-indulge in lazing about and eating lots of stuff that does my body no good (there’s a tub of Cookie Cream Commotion in the freezer whispering, “Graaaab a spoooon … do it nooooooow”).
So nothing’s wrong with me, body wise. I can run and jump and walk and see and hear and smell and taste and all the rest of it.
So it was with great pleasure that I found a post by young mum N’Tima Preusse called Babies Ruin Bodies, and what she says is that her body is NOT ruined by the birth of her baby, but enhanced because of it. Because her body is now a mother’s body, one made to give nourishment and care and support and shelter to her baby.
I’m not a mother, and I’m not even really thinking about motherhood in the immediate future, but I am so happy that there is someone out there who hasn’t lost the plot and gone the way of thinking that the only beauty out there is artificial or Hollywood-inspired and that if you don’t fall into that category you are not beautiful. It’s made me hopeful that the future isn’t doomed to superficiality, and beauty isn’t always based on a Kardashian’s paparazzi shot.
I’m hoping it won’t get to the point where aesthetic plastic surgery becomes the norm and everyone gets it, and then in generations gone by we won’t even know what “real” looks like anymore, or we will know it so well we won’t want it.
So really chuffed I found N’Tima’s blog and post. The world is safe. I’m not bikini model beautiful, but I’m cool with that. My body is in reasonable working order and it’s up to me to ensure it continues to run on all cylinders.