Since experiencing the height of the COVID-19 pandemic in its epicenter, I’ve become more mindful of being grateful for and gracious to my body.
Grateful For
My body survived, and kept me healthy. I am grateful for my lungs and heart, which provide oxygen to the rest of my body. I am thankful for my brain for rewiring itself and forming new connections to keep my mind sane over time. I’m grateful for my limbs and joints for staying intact during a time of rest because I depend on them now more than ever.
Gracious To
Due to shelter-in-place orders during the pandemic, I was no longer getting up, throwing on any clean clothes available, and rushing to work. I had more time to look at myself in the mirror and experience a lot of emotions. I discovered scars and marks that I had never noticed before. Although I knew I was wearing a larger size, I hadn't noticed how my physique had changed. I didn't look at all how I used to in my teens, or how I expected to look in my twenties. I felt like I looked old, yet I had a young face.
There were also some details I noticed and loved. I used to get bullied for how long my toes looked in sandals; however, by this time, my feet looked perfect to me. I was in love with them. I started doing my pedicures during this time. It was relaxing and I felt like I was thanking my body for providing me with the perfect feet. They got me to and from work every day, and happy hour afterwards. I’ve danced on them for hours, and they rarely hurt or had any injuries.
Emotional Weight
I wonder if my sadness or confusion is manifesting itself in physical pain and discomfort. Sometimes, I experience sharp, sudden pains in specific areas or tightness in certain muscles. During one of my worst bouts of depression, I also learned I had a fibroid. One fibroid was terrorizing my uterus and resulted in some of the worst menstrual cramps I've ever experienced. The night I found out my first cousin died tragically, my menstrual cycle started almost two weeks earlier than usual. The grief on top of the already exacerbated menstrual pain was unbearable.
I work a very physically active job. On my worst days, I feel very sluggish and can barely keep my eyes open. I’ll get random muscle spasms or cramps out of nowhere. Then, after a short conversation or laugh, it all goes away, and I feel brand new.
My toes are damaged from not wearing the proper shoes to work, and it bothers me. I feel like all of my emotional discomfort and anxiety are showing themselves in my toes. I find myself rushing to put on socks to avoid looking at them. I avoid looking at the things I don't like about my body because facing the sight feels like a pile on.
Insecurities and Societal Pressures
I was always very insecure about my body. Coming of age during the BBL era, I was embarrassingly in a constant mental and emotional battle of whether I should or should not get surgery. I wanted to have the perfect body, but didn't want to risk the botched results we see today. If I’m being honest, my financial troubles probably prevented me from making a regretful decision at a young age.
I had nice clothes growing up, but I often felt overwhelmed by my outfits. They were either too big for me, too restrictive, or had a weird texture. As I entered my twenties, I felt like I had a few good outfits, but I had limited options for the various occasions I found myself in. During the pandemic, I wore sweats and pajamas. As I re-entered society, I struggled to find clothes appropriate for someone in their late twenties. All of my clothes looked so childish and unserious, so I continued to wear sweats whenever I could.
My breasts started to come in around the fourth grade. I’ll get comments from women with smaller boobs like “I wish I had more boobs like yours, or What’s that like? I always make a joke out of it, but I've honestly hated them ever since they started growing. When working at a nonprofit in Midtown Manhattan, I desperately wanted to look put together like the professional women I saw on television growing up. However, my bra size kept changing in my early twenties, and nothing ever fit properly. Some bras are more expensive than the rest of my clothes. I couldn't afford to keep up with my changing body, so I chose to ignore it. I took the comments about my breasts, regardless of whether it was good or bad, as an insult that I just needed to ignore.
Now that I’m thirty, I’m looking at my body, just as I'm looking at everything else in my life, and asking myself: what happened?
Acceptance and Gratitude
The word glory is defined as magnificence or great beauty. Every day, I try to look in the mirror and take my body in completely. I force myself not to avoid the things I don't like about it. Some days I feel good about myself, and some days I want to cry. Some days I hate my breasts, and other days I am happy that they are still supple. On my worst days, I take a few deep breaths and move on. I find myself again in a situation where I am thanking my body for getting me through. I walk approximately 20,000 steps a day and engage in a lot of bending and heavy lifting. I'm surprised by my strength and endurance every week. I’ve never expected to be in this situation, and I never knew my body could handle so much. I have three gray hairs in the center of my head. When I first noticed them, I wasn't even upset. These are a reminder that I HAVE LIFE, despite so many circumstances that could have killed me. I find great beauty in that.
I am wonderfully made, magnificent, and of great beauty.