I hated by body as a teen and young adult. I compared my body my white peers and couldn’t understand why my breasts and buttocks were different. Why were mine so much bigger than theirs ? My mother would try to explain that I was mixed race and shouldn’t compare my body to my white friends. My body was like my father’s. My father is Jamaican and his body was athletic and powerful. She suggested I look at other black and mixed race teens. I did and still couldn’t identify.

I have always been bigger, taller and thicker than my peers and hated it. Except for the taller part… I loved being tall and started to wear heels to be taller. You look thinner if your taller.

I hated my body to the point that I starved it. At the age of 23, I was 125 pounds. One hundred and twenty-five pound on my physical frame…I looked sickly many said. My body was no longer “interesting”… “You look better larger”. “You had curves”.

I thought my 125lb body was “the shit” though. I maintained this weight for 8 years. Not eating well.. starving myself, my body and my soul.

Even thin, I still hated my body. I hated it so much that I started to tattoo it. I thought that if I tattooed it,  I would find it more interesting and beautiful… I was trying to cover up the areas I disliked, mostly my back. I had a very broad back. I was told that I had the frame of a football player. Well of course I didn’t want to look like a fucking football player… *Insert eye roll*

At the age of 30 and more so when I was pregnant with my daughter, I realized how beautiful and powerful my body was. I also realized that I wanted my daughter to love herself and be confident in her body. I understood that I needed to be that role model for her. I started to except and see that I have a body like my father. I have a body like many West Indian women as I was meant to have. When I gained insight I realized the body is a miracle. My body got me through 10 years of working 20 hour days. My body carried and nurtured a human being.  My body has never broke when impacted physically.  It has never let me down when Injured and has fully bounced back.  And even today…my body is fighting two autoimmune diseases and defying statistics and Doctor’s diagnoses/predicaments.

At the age of 45 I am now a woman who loves her body. Who is actually in love with her body. I now except my body for all of its shape, dimples and curves. I recognize the strength and how powerful it is. I now tattoo it because I love it and for tributes to others as well as myself. I am proud of it and all that this body has gone through.

Truthfully though, I am really not liking this midlife acne and body acne bullshit but even then I still love my body. It is my temple. It is housing my soul and protecting it. It never fails me during yoga and even though my body is now disabled it is still a powerhouse. My body has become one of the loves of my life.

Live anyway and love yourself …