your body has a story to tell

Nobody is ever happy with their faces or bodies every minute of the day. But those of us on the route to self love are positive about our body image – flaws and all.

I am finally getting very comfortable with the skin that I am in. It is a very big deal to me because, I have spent 2 decades doing nothing but obsessing over my weight and appearance, hating my body and treating it badly.

Our bodies have stories to tell.
Let me start with telling a few of mine.


I have significantly darkened eye rings, that is partly hereditary and partly due to developing insomnia from the age of 22. But I think they give my deep set eyes character. I have a darkened spot on my forehead from the time I walked into a steel pillar because I was looking at my crush. I was 14, I just wanted to disappear into thin air when it happened haha! I have chicken pox marks that I call face craters from incurring the illness at age 28. I waited to get the pox as a kid & teen to lay around at home for 2 weeks. I finally caught it from a child who was on the tail end of the pox, I worked as an educational therapist with special needs children at that time. Unfortunately, those 2 weeks cost me my job and I was left very disillusioned by people in general. But these scars are a reminder that life is very unpredictable – be prepared for the rides it can take you on!


I have soft skin, and no I am not trying to praise’s just a fact. The soft skin creates flabby folds around my arms, so I used to call my arms the mini-Michelin man arms. I also called them my BatWoman wings! Today, I call them my sociable arms because even after I have stopped waving hello or goodbye, the arms still echo my friendly gesture πŸ˜‰

I have extra pockets of skin at my armpits, that make my already rather broad shoulders seem broader still. I usually muse to myself that that quarter of my body is my athletic swimmer’s body. It is still a challenge to go with a strapless top, tank top or cami but I know that the uneasiness I feel is not really my Own voice. It’s the voices of The Others. I don’t like The Others. They are the people who sneer hatefully. So I remind myself to listen to my Own voice, to that mature person within who loves unconditionally.

I have stretch marks where the arms connect to the armpits. A part of the mileage this good old Body has driven πŸ™‚

My waist is smaller than my shoulders and hips, which makes for an hourglass effect. That does not mean I don’t have a generously endowed tummy. There are darkened tiger striped stretch marks on the area around my navel. More mileage! There were so many ‘road trips’ ! πŸ˜‰

My thighs are voluminous and I consider that a good thing. You will not see me wearing mini skirts and short shorts – It isn’t shame that stops me, I quite like my strong chunky thighs. I used to lift a pretty insane number on the leg machines in the gym. My thighs propelled me faster when I used to sprint and put an extra oomph to my swirls in dance classes.

Oh and I have NO issue with my derriΓ¨re and bosoms – they’re pretty hot.

My calves are always well defined, it must be the years of dancing. It’s the feet that I want to talk about. My two injured feet, oh boy.

My right foot has a lightning-like scar that spans 3/4 of my heel. Many moons ago, yours truly had a troubled past with her parents. I do love them now, though it took a really long time to forgive them. I will not go into details but there was a terrible history of violence. I was emotionally explosive as a result. A mishap ensued on a day that will forever be etched in my memory. Let’s just say that I will never ever do anything in a fit of rage that will hurt my body. I didn’t direct the anger at anyone else, it was always my own mind and body that took the beating. The bulimia, the cutting, the smashing of personal possessions, the screaming and .. oh, this is hard. That was a very dark period of my life that I thought would never end. I don’t think the darkness left me until I was 30.

So that scar is a reminder that I will never take myself for granted. I will never resort to violence, and I will never hurt myself.

The left foot has a smaller scar, from hurting myself while falling into a ditch subsequently twisting my ankle horribly. That incident happened 2 years after the right foot mishap. I call the left foot scar Karma.

We obsess, worry, frown and fret so much about our bodies. We add on so much baggage. I am just thankful that my
body parts are in working order albeit wonkily at times.

The way I see it, the positive aspects about my body that I am grateful for outweigh the bits that make me wince in front of the mirror by a wide margin. The tales of my body have led me to where I am today. We are a sum of all our parts. These flaws are part of my ongoing journey towards loving myself. It is such an eye opening, exciting journey!

I have had the privilege of befriending SO many plus sized, curvy lasses through various social media sites that are So very beautiful inside out. I wish that they could learn to see it through my eyes and be proud of who they are. Like that Dove commercial!

The body is an instrument, a vessel, a means of transport. Learning to treat it well helps make life a more enjoyable ride. That’s what I tell myself.

this was a rather personal post!
I hope it’s made sense. My beloved readers, don’t mind the p.s note after this paragraph. It had to be done!

P.S : All disrespectful comments will be reported. This is for the men who think it is okay to comment lewdly. I swear if you said it within earshot instead of from behind the computer screen, I would take my heels off and smack you.
Shame on you.


4 thoughts on “your body has a story to tell

  1. What a beautiful commentary on self acceptance, an inspiring post and a testament to your journey, where you are and where you’re going.

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