I have had a remarkable portion of my life disliking myself. I remember at the young age of five, that I had a favorite shirt. It was thin purple and white stripes, had the Powerpuff Girls on the front. If you were to ask a typical five year old why their favorite shirt was their favorite- you would probably get the answer about it being their favorite color or that it had their favorite characters on the front. For me the answer was that it made me look skinny.
At five years old I hated how I looked in the mirror- except when I was in that shirt. I thought it hid my little belly and purple has always complimented my complexion. I loved my Powerpuff Girl so much that it became the only one I would wear. I would wear it EVERYDAY…because it was the only shirt I owned that I could stand to look at myself in. It got to the point that my parents decided to give me an ultimatum – you have to wash the shirt or we are going to get rid of it.
While I don’t think they had any malicious intentions and I didn’t have the words to explain how I was feeling about the shirt- I chose to wear it again without washing it…and they got rid of it. I remember feeling naked and disgusting without this particular shirt and I had no words or reason to truly explain why. Even now- as I work with the relationship with my body and the parts of my personality that I find flawed…I don’t know exactly why.
It could be that my body seemingly has always failed me…with illness and how it looked…maybe I subconsciously thought that it didn’t deserve the love and praise for keeping me alive everyday. Maybe it was the meaningless comments from adults saying I was cute and chubby or maybe it was just the immense pressure coming from the constant intake of media I’ve had from a young age. No matter the reason -I suppose it doesn’t really matter why…but what’s more important is how I deal with it now.
I was thrown back into my childhood memory today as I noticed I was wearing my favorite pair of shorts for the fifth day in a row. I suddenly wondered why and was suddenly five again. they cover my little belly…and compliment the little tushy my mother blessed me with. I don’t know what I want you, as the reader, to get from this.
Maybe that we all have insecurities or maybe that we need to stay conscious of what we put out self worth in. But I do want to say- both to myself and to you- you are worth far more than your favorite shirt. Your body deserves kindness despite it’s flaws- it carries you, you keeps you alive, and it holds your soul safely in this world. As for what else you get from this little tid bit- that’s up to you, but that’s all I have for the day. 🙂
I wish you all happy reading and a great rest of your day.