Tough Skin

The Flub by krazydiamond

The Flub
By krazydiamond

At some point in our adolescence, we hit that point, that self hatred of our bodies, to varying degrees. We hate the sudden appearance of hair, acne, or curves that don't behave, with a heaping of hormones and a new awareness of how our bodies are perceived. A body in flux, like an out of control car while we cling desperately to wheel as our inner workings joy ride to adulthood.

For me, my body insecurities dogged me all through high school; too tall, too pale, too plain, too big. This wasn't necessarily how other people saw me. This was how I saw myself, complete with slouched shoulders and crossed arms, trying to look smaller, to hide.

Our perceived image of ourselves is usually worse than how others see us. Scratch that, you are your worst critic. We often don't learn or accept this truth until we are older, until we realize the less we care about our flaws, the less others care, and the happier we are.

Around college was the time I began to embrace that mindset. Why, yes, I will eat waffles for dinner. I am an adult, I deserve this! I napped in the afternoons, stayed up until four in the morning, lived in pajama pants during finals week; my body wasn't so much a temple as it was an Ihop filled with toddlers and I was too busy with my studies to care. I gained a 'Freshman fifteen', probably a little more. I called it Freshman flub, a result of my priorities shifting.

When I had kids, the flub came to stay, now with Flub Stripes ™. For me, pregnancy and motherhood were the biggest eye openers to body image. In the span of four years, I grew three people, two of my own, and a third very special little girl for a stranger.
These events turned me inside out, changed my body forever. I possessed new scars, new marks, and now permanent flub. Flub that lingered through hours, weeks, months at the gym, diets, and murderous glares as I stared at my forever altered midriff.
The flub brought a revisit to those insecurities of my adolescent years; too tall, too pale, too plain, too big. There were days where I felt my body was 'ruined'. In many ways the struggle with body image was now harder, coupled with the mess of hormones of motherhood. Those long carried insecurities paled in comparison to the flub. For years I couldn't look at that part of me in the mirror.

My kids love the flub. They love to blow raspberries into it. Nothing puts your dignity in check like your five year old lifting your shirt in the grocery store to blow a raspberry into your flub. Those moments also reveal a truth. Nobody sneered in disgust at the sight of my flub. Nobody pointed and laughed. A mom the next aisle over gave me a knowing nod, like a mental high five.

My children see my body as a jungle gym, a substitute teddy bear, and fixer of boo boos. They rub their faces in the flub, poke it, jiggle it while giggling like tiny crazy people, snuggle it, and trace the long faded Flub Stripes ™. My husband doesn't see the flub at all. He is too busy admiring other parts of me. The only one it bothers...is me.

It took a long time to realize I was the only one who cared about it. As I roll into my thirties, the flub and I have come to an understanding. My flub, scars, stripes, and all, are no longer the first thing I see when I look in the mirror. I see the tall body that fits my curves, I see a face that is pale but youthful. I've come to appreciate my features. I am just the right size for me. The last thing I look at is the flub, and I see it for what it is: a trophy. My body has carried three children into this world. It nourished and protected, shielded them from harm. This is the body my children love, my husband loves, a body they both cherish. To them I am perfect, flub and all. I am teaching myself to see my body as they do. It is a lesson worth learning.

This heartfelt and uplifting post was written by the phenomenal Kristin. I chose this post to go first because it shows the message we should all carry around - to love and accept ourselves as we are.