“Ultimately, I marvel at my body. Its strength to carry two humans simultaneously, my ability to grow two beautiful, healthy beings, feed them with my body, cuddle, and wrestle, and protect them. ”
Why did you participate in Women With Trees?
Many times when I see an old photo of myself, I think, ‘Man, I was so much thinner then. What was I complaining about?’ And I remember how fat I thought I was, how unhappy I was with my body. Because there’s never been a time I’ve just felt satisfied with how my body looked. So over the last several years I’ve really tried to remember this, and appreciate my body instead of condemn it. Years from now I will look back and regret not loving the hell out of myself. It’s such wasted time and energy. Lindy West, Melinda Alexander, and Virgie Tovar have been huge inspirations to me in finding happiness in your body now, just as it is. Not waiting until you lose a certain amount of weight. To truly embody happiness as you are, right at this moment. The fact that most of us don’t appreciate and worship our bodies is some major bullshit.
When I found out about your project, I was curious. I was sparked by the idea of “we cannot be what we cannot see” and how transformative it’s been for me to finally see women (mostly through social media) who are large and having fun, loving themselves, looking cute, and claiming their right to happiness, not always striving to “be better”. I wanted to be a part of that. Existing without apology in this body is in itself an act of defiance, a certain kind of activism. So I decided to allow myself to be seen, naked, by others.
I’m a hippy at heart, so being naked among trees felt easier than just being naked in a room. The trees don’t care. They hold you. I’ve always felt smaller in nature, butted up against the grandeur of it. Small but expansive. Connected to the earth’s pulse. Free.
How do you feel, now, in your body after having children versus when you were younger?
That’s a complicated question.
I’ve danced since I was three, so that’s a lot of time in a leotard, in front of a mirror, comparing my body to other girls and women. I’ve always been the tallest and often largest dancer in class, and it took a long time to call myself a dancer without embarrassment. Early on I was publicly ridiculed while doing a routine with a friend at our summer camp, and the shame from that held on and didn’t let go for a very long time. So it’s made me very angry, the expectations of beauty that are thrown at us by others, that effect how fully we enjoy the things that are meaningful to us.
Now, being a twin mama, I can’t help but think of myself as strong and powerful, even if in reality and age my physical strength has plummeted over the years. I developed chronic urticaria during the pregnancy which has lasted for nine years, so in some ways, I struggle with the idea that my body has betrayed me. I think anyone dealing with a chronic condition goes through phases of feeling like their body has turned against them. Plus, the combination of age, and not keeping up with yoga practice has made me feel downright brittle. So routine movement is something I strive to come back to.
Ultimately, I marvel at my body. Its strength to carry two humans simultaneously, my ability to grow two beautiful, healthy beings, feed them with my body, cuddle, wrestle, and protect them. I am investigating now how to navigate body issues with my nine-year-old daughter and son. It’s taken a long time to separate my own charge around these topics and not burst in to tears if they call my butt “fat” (which has actually happened). I’m figuring out how to discuss how real and limiting shame is, the effects of bullying, of making healthy choices and taking action if you want to make a body strong. The greatest legacy I can pass down to my children is self-love.
