I, like most young women these days, struggled my whole life to love my body. Even at my thinnest, I wanted that stick thin body that didn´t have an ounce of fat and I didn´t understand why I couldn´t have it. I worked out 4 hours a day and often times would restrict myself from eating. I lived in so much hatred for this body that God gave me. Even to the point of anger towards Him for giving me love handles. During my time here in Brasil I spent most of the time in the same angst. I tried to work out every morning, which I managed until the rainy season when getting out of bed at 5:30 am to run in the pouring rain was impossible. The change in food habits made me gain enough weight and I felt like a fat pig (as I began working out at age 13 and worked out religiously almost every day for 10 years). My body only wanted the many cakes and delicious desserts that I found here. But more than anything, it was this idea in my head, this habit and way of life to hate myself.
And then one day, I don´t remember when, I went on a day of rest and saw myself in the mirror. We only had a tiny mirror in my house that allowed me to see half of my face at a time and never my body. I took off my clothes and faced myself in this gigantic mirror and I surprised myself with thoughts of how beautiful I was. I gazed at my curves and found them beautiful--those love handles that I wanted to melt away since age 11 made beautiful curves to my womanly body. My eyes beautiful. I no longer saw everything I hated and was able to see those parts I never managed to see before.
It is a little bit of a different body. I actually think that I gained a lot of weight, plumped up, and then lost it in different places. Those rice and beans give me curves in different places now. And in the end, I don´t think it has anything to do with what my body looks like. It´s that I´m not ashamed to be me anymore--inside. That hatred for my physical self was a reflection of the hatred for my inner self. As I healed that little broken heart of mine, the self degredation stopped. Sure, I still see pictures and think "Oh, Lord what a horrible picture," but I know how to distinguish a bad photo and being ugly. Sure I still have those little love rolls underneath my bra line, but it´s not the end of the world. I no longer live obsessing about working out or what I´m going to or not going to eat, which has allowed me to hear that voice inside that tells me when I´m actually hungry and when I´m full. Sure, I´ll never be a size 2 or a size 4, I´ll never lose my love handles or that tiny belly bump, that I´ll always have one crooked tooth but I can still love my body because it is mine and always will be. That these are the tiny things that make me, me.
I get emotional thinking about it. Thinking about that demon that kept me from living since the age of 10. Thinking of that demon that I kept trying to escape from with pleasures of the body, with men, with food, with sorrow. I pray and pray that this will stay with me forever, that it won´t vanish into thin air when I return and live in the city governed by hungry models. I hope I can carry this with me and be a light to the world, a light to girls like me.
Sorry I didn´t post the fotos on here from the past month. I will try this weekend. It´s been a month without rest. And so I want to take advantage of this city that I love while I still have a chance... 3 months until I land back in my "terra"!
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