My significant other and I have been together now for four years, four challenging and at times very uncooperative years. At times I feel a though I have finally found the only other person that can not only put up with me but understand me as well. I am more comforted in his arms than I am by my own thoughts. He keeps me grounded, focused and at times under control. Sometimes I feel my love for him overwhelming me and I cannot help but tear up.
And yet if all I say is true, why am I at my most inhibited when it comes to him seeing the reality. I say reality, because I have somehow convinced myself that if he sees me in all my glory, he might change his mind. Is this even a plausible thought? This man loves me wholeheartedly and yet I cannot be honest with him. What causes me to feel this vulnerable and guarded?
My body was used as a fruit-bearing vessel for 9 months. I gave birth in front of a bunch of strangers with my legs as far apart as I could muster without splitting myself in half. Since my son's departure from my body, I feel used and somehow very clinical. My body filled an instinctual need and I am forever marked by this event. The marks are permanent, inspiring and extremely frightening. I love being a mother and am proud of my body's ability to accommodate such a massive need. So why am I am embarrassed by these lines of passage? Will he reject me because of them? Will he be repulsed and shrink away from me in disgust?
I would love to be accepting of myself again. There was a time when I could strip at the drop of a hat on a simple dare. What happened to that hot ticket? I will tell you, she grew up, had ridiculous reasoning's and allowed them to control her. Since I can logically explain this I should be able to conquer this demon, but alas, I am perpetually terrified by this thought. Will I ever be able to be comfortable with myself? Just when I think I can let him see, I shriek and duck for cover.
With everything going by so fast, maybe I should unveil before it is really too late. Pretty soon I will be wearing a girdle and picking my breasts up off of the floor. I need to use it before I completely lose it. I have pondered plastic surgery, having dreams of myself wearing a size zero like “Barbie”. My fake breasts and liposuction thighs barely contained in my miniscule threads of clothing like material.
I have talked to my other half about my secret dreams, and he is thrown into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Why would you even think of changing your beautiful body,” he asks. I am taken aback. My beautiful body? Is he insane? But then something quite radically occurs to me. I see him through the glasses of love. He bares little resemblance to the societal norm for a perfect male form. However, I am enthralled with his squishy belly and dimpled cheeks. These traits are unique to him and I am the only privileged one to enjoy them.
Aha, if I feel this way, possibly this is how he thinks as well. Maybe he sees me through the goggles of love, and sees my scars and dimples as cherished features that are unique to me.
I trust my partner with all of my being, so maybe it's time to shed the cloak of self consciousness and reveal the woman I am in all of my glory. Maybe I will do it tonight. Ok, maybe tomorrow. Well I really would like to lose some weight and tone up first. I can only suck in so much.
