i have scars that welcomed me into womanhood. at first they were deep purple, stretching down my thighs, up my hips. across my breasts.. even through my stomach.
i was ashamed of them… the only stretch marks i had known were the ones on my moms belly, and hers were beautiful to me. running my fingers across the silvery ribbons, when i’d lay my head on her belly and listen.
i knew they were her witness to carrying three babies. and they were real… and they were ‘mom’.
for a long time i felt like i had a body that looked like it’s already carried a baby. a poochy belly with silver ribbons. and feeling like that was just more ammunition to hating my body for deceiving me. for not being fertile… for looking like a mothers, instead of a young woman.
it’s only recently that i don’t mind…that through my fertility journey i had to start accepting who i saw in the mirror, and be as loving and gentle with her as i could… not send her so much negativity that she was already dealing with. knowing that, my body image should have been the least of my worries- but i only tallied it on to being a failure..
and how wrong was i, how wrong are we?
i can now look at my silvery ribbons with some compassion, knowing that they started to creep up at such a gentle time for a young woman… knowing that that was the beginning of my self-awareness and let down of confidence… and that’s just so sad to me.
i wish that i would have realised at that time that coming into womanhood meant that my body will give and stretch to a new life… that i was joining this emotional… empowering.. sisterhood. that, instead of such an embarrassing nuisance- i was beginning a journey of discovering myself, of learning wisdom. of learning the balance and art of being a woman, sister, lover, friend… and learning that i’m important too. that i need to take time to nourish myself, and to learn to love myself.
and so now i stand in the mirror and look at these silver strands that wiggle up my hips, up my stomach, thighs, breasts.. and i am so in awe of them. in what they represent for me in that transition of my life, and knowing that i’ll have new scars that welcome me into motherhood.
and they will be the same story as my mom’s scars were for me….
7 Comments
This is such a wonderful journey you're on. Enjoy every moment of it. It goes fast.
love this . so so much! like you, i thought i would care wayyyy more about my stretch marks. but, i could care less. they are the marks of my daughter, and i will carry them with pride forever
I think that even if you weren't a mom, those "scars" (I just wish that the whole world, including us, wouldn't be so disdainful with simple "differences" from the average model) would be just fine; they have always been a part of your womanhood, and a part of your role in life. Even as an artist.
And I love people more and more as they are, and not as society wants them to be.
I happen to have the same marks as you have, from way back in time, from my adolescence. Hard, it was hard for me too.
Hey, but we are wiser now!
Beautiful said. Only if more woman would look at themselves as beautiful no matter size or shape. The mere fact that we are alive is beautiful!
You.are.beautiful.
You truly ARE beautiful, Erin xxx
Yay, I've finally been able to open the comments section to be able to comment! Congratulations on your pregnancy, I was so happy for you when I checked in on your blog a few weeks back (wanted to comment then but it wouldn't allow me to).
I love your view and acceptance of what your stretch marks represent. So refreshing!