As I survey my cushiony butt, I wonder to myself what it would have been like to have lived back in the Renaissance days?
Oh they liked their curvy girls back then.
Look at those mounded bellies! Cheesecake thighs everywhere!!
I would have fit right in.
There would have been no moaning and groaning over the scales. No squeezing into muffin-top jeans. I would have been armed with corsets and long voluminous skirts. Famous painters would have asked me to pose for them, because my hippy figure would have been perfect for their next great masterpiece (of course I would have politely declined, because cavorting in the altogether is not my idea of a fun time, especially in those chilly uninsulated Renaissance mansions).
When did skinny become the be-all-and-end-all of beauty?
Pretty recently, I'm thinking.
Who decided that gaunt and stick-like is desirable?
Who says that curvy girls should spend our lives trying to get rid of our roundness, denying ourselves the pleasure of eating delicious food, wasting time counting calories, boring our men with constant talk of diets and weight loss, making ourselves miserable by obsessing over one of the most natural parts of life: eating (and passing on our dangerous obsessions to our daughters who watch our every move).
Why should we curvy girls sit on the sidelines and watch our children splash in the water without us, because we're too embarrassed of our thighs to brave a swimsuit and the stares of others?
So what if our butts look a mile wide on a bicycle seat! Who's really looking anyway?? Why shouldn't we just get over our self-consciousness and ride, feel the wind in our faces, join in the fun of free wheeling with our kids...
It's Henri over at Marketing to Milk who got me thinking on this one. In her post she talked about an old woman she met who is in her eighties and still obsessing about her weight. At eighty! That really got me thinking.
Am I going to waste time and energy being unhappy with what I've got to work with, or am I going to be realistic about the body I'm left with after three jumbo babies have grown out of me?
Am I going to spend the next 40 years foolishly trying to hold on to my youth, or am I going to grow old gracefully?What is beautiful anyway? We can't trust our culture to tell us. The fashion changes so often - Marilyn Monroe was the height of sexy in the 50's. These days she would have been told: "Sorry you're overweight, come back when you more closely resemble a stick."
So forget the media. Forget the magazines, the Filmstars, and pleasing Tyra.
What is beauty that will last?
Know any older women who radiate joy? I do. Sure they have wrinkles and you might not see them on any magazine covers, but oh they sparkle.
What lines they have are carved on their faces by laughter and smiles. They know how to have fun and enjoy life. Plenty of tears have run down those cheeks, but coldness and hardness hasn't penetrated their souls. Their hearts radiate love, peace, acceptance and wisdom, not bitterness and regret. When you finish speaking with women like these, you come away feeling... blessed.
These are the truly beautiful women. This is true beauty. It's soul-deep. It's beauty that can be hugged, it draws you in. You find it hard to tear your eyes away.
This beauty doesn't fear growing old - because like fine wine, age only increases its value, and its depth.
Girls, let's celebrate, emulate and cultivate that kind of beauty.
To heck with our cellulite and wrinkles!
Live, love, laugh, dance and swim if you want to!!
It's our joy that keeps us young on the inside, no matter what the mirror says.
...........................
PS: These women pictured above are two of my role models, Helen Monk and Jill Smith, Pastors, Counselors, mothers, grandmothers and women par-excellence. I love their beauty and their style; they have a radiance and warmth that is fascinating. I love these beautiful ladies.
Who are your role models??
Photos from GoogleImages
