I’ve spent most of my life being self-conscious about my body. The belief that fat=ugly is so very ingrained in my mind that it is ridiculously hard to shake. Combine that with the idea, constantly reinforced by everyone I know, that no one should ever show any skin unless she looks like a model for that underwear company, and I wind up obsessed with keeping parts of my body covered. I don’t remember the last time I showed my belly in public. In fact, I spend a lot of time and energy making sure my belly doesn’t show.
Until tonight.
I am taking a bellydance class and I have been impressed by how many women bare their bellies, and not a one of them looks like an underwear model. These bellies are soft, dimpled, and crisscrossed with stretchmarks and the battle scars of childbirth and the life of a woman. I keep realizing how much more beautiful those bellies are than the supposedly “perfect” ones I see in magazines. Perfection is an illusion. I prefer reality.
Tonight I was doing a basic egyptian, hands above my head, concentrating hard on getting it all, contracting the right muscles and doing the footwork and maintaining my posture and not running into anyone, and I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a window. Sometime during the class my shirt had worked its way up and a few inches of belly was showing, but instead of being embarrassed and interrupting the movement to adjust, I lifted my arms higher and kept dancing. My belly is big and soft, marked with scars to rival any mother’s, and will never make it to the pages of a magazine. But it is all mine, and it can do an egyptian and a hip circle and lots of other wondrous things. That’s worth showing off.
A friend of mine convinced me to go bellydancing with her once when it was offered free at a local rec center. I absolutely balked until she presented me with the following argument:
“What’s the problem? You’ve got a belly. You can dance. Bellydancing is the next logical step.”
I had always criminalized my belly until she said that – all of a sudden it was just a part of my body that could do lots of things I wanted it to do, like you said above.
Yay! I’m so happy for you! Belly dance has done so much to improve my body image and actually saved a friend of mine from an eating disorder. It is such a joyous and healing dance and I’m glad you are enjoying it!
Oh wonderful! I love such milestones and I salute you!
‘My belly is big and soft, marked with scars to rival any mother’s, and will never make it to the pages of a magazine. But it is all mine.’
So beautifully put. A Japanese Buddhist mentor once said ‘ a thousand mile journey starts with one step!’ so there you are…
wishing you a life time of many more milestones like this. and you inspire so many people…like me…i still have issues showing my body…but one day i shall also overcome…
thanks
Speaking of bellies, my boyfriend thinks that a soft, round belly (as opposed to a flat belly or – heavens forbid – washboard abs) on a woman is the epitome of femininity…
)
I stumbled unto your blog by accident one day through google and loved it ^.^
Much of what you said reminded me of a short essay I read by Chesterton. I’m sure you’ll understand it: http://www.cse.dmu.ac.uk/~mward/gkc/books/The_Defendant.html#A_DEFENCE_OF_UGLY_THINGS
As for belly dancing, if you can actually do it, then you’re amazing. Last year, my friend invited me to join her while she was doing them at her home with her friend. I tried and failed. I could NOT do the lower ones for the life of me~!
Erin, have you read The Number 1 Ladies Detective Agency? Now there’s a lady who is happy with her large girth. I have been reading through the series thinking you would love to be as happy in your own skin as she is. : )