Our bodies are in constant flux. The bodies we have in adolescence are different from the ones we have in age, but always remain ours — to grapple with, to cherish and love.
Bodies are meant to evolve, to yield to gravity, to grow with new life, and to bear the markings of the lives we lead. They're also idealized by the media in ways that may leave us feeling defeated. Comparison can be a thief of joy.
Instead of loving our bodies unconditionally, we can grow resentful that they can't be squeezed into an old pair of jeans or don't fit the mold of what is considered "sexy."
It's a mold I once fit into neatly, until my body began to transform. With it, my sense of self, too, had to evolve. With age, I learned my body wasn't my currency — it was a vessel to be nurtured, just as I did my intellect and soul.
This is a journey through my body's various forms, its entanglements with identity and, ultimately, what it means to own your sexy.
Back to the Beginning
When I was 13, my friends had already developed breasts and I had a flat chest. It was the early 2000s, when curves were in and being straight-bodied was not seen as sexy. Or, at least, that’s what every boy in my grade led me to believe, telling me I was flatter than a wall.
Well, boys should not be boys if that means they can go around telling young girls there’s anything wrong with their bodies. I had not yet gotten my period and throughout my adolescent years, my body took its sweet time to develop.
I always felt behind my peers, child-like, unsexy… Of course, this took a toll on my confidence, and I absolutely did not feel sexy in the slightest.
A New Body
At 18, my body had slowly but surely begun to change. My breasts grew — now a C cup — my hips widened, but I still remained slim. Thus, the male attention began. Boys showed interest, I had a boyfriend.
I had a new onset of attention, likely because my body fit the mold of what was attractive, sexy, hot. I felt best in a bikini at the beach, never insecure of my body, because everything was as it “should” be.
Changing
At 25, my body continued to change; breasts were even larger, hips a little wider. Suddenly, I had to workout constantly to keep my body slim. What was going on? I thought. I’m the skinny girl. I’m not curvy.
As strange as it may seem, I’d constructed my entire identity around my small frame and slim body. I didn’t know what to do with my changing body, despite it being mine. Naturally, my body was evolving, becoming ready for womanhood, potential childbirth.
It was strong, it was beautiful, but I didn’t see it that way. I began to feel entirely lost in who I was. All around me, at this point in time, mainstream media idealized images of extremely thin girls — the body type I used to have. Once again, I was late to the party.
A New Light
In my late twenties and into my early thirties, something changed in me — in more ways than one. I struggled with lower back pain in a serious way, suffering on and off from herniated discs.
I broke off an engagement with a toxic partner and, a year later, met someone who truly sees me and eventually married him. I also ended a seven-year career as an elementary school teacher and started a sustainable hotel business with my now husband. But in terms of my body, something truly clicked.
I came to realize that I’m not defined by the size or shape of my body. My body is a part of me I’m so grateful to have. My body takes me places, it protects my insides, it will one day bear children and, hopefully, grow old with me. I’m grateful to stretch, to walk, to have sex. I’m lucky to taste, to touch, to feel.
Over the last few years, my body’s shape has fluctuated. It’s lost weight and gained muscle when I’ve been active; it’s softened when I’ve moved less. My breasts reduced slightly when I stopped taking birth control.
Throughout all these changes, I’ve finally learned to love my body — despite its appearance and what body type is in “style.” How can the media so narrowly decide what body type is attractive — and how is it that every decade it supposedly changes?
We all move at our own pace, on our own unique paths. We're not static beings in any sense of the word. As my personality and my soul evolve, so does my body. Just as growth in our minds is sexy, so is change within our bodies.
Owning It
Now, at (almost) 34 years old, I’m committed to this journey of loving myself and my body as I move through the human experience. It will evolve: I will wrinkle and soften, my muscles will fluctuate, my curves will change.
One day, soon, I hope to be pregnant, and my body will surely transform then. Despite all the change, I’m here for this flow. I’ll ride the tides of emotions that come with it and celebrate my body in every form.
I’m here to own my body, to own my sexy, and I hope you’ll join me on this ever-evolving journey.