"Love Your Body the Way Your Mother Loved Your Baby Feet"
Discover more from Strong by Lisbeth Darsh
"Love Your Body the Way Your Mother Loved Your Baby Feet"
What if we followed Mary Lambert's advice?
Every day is a lesson in self-acceptance.
But I’m kinda tired of having to learn these lessons, aren’t you?
It’s some kind of weird human bullshit that we still spend our lives, day by day, trying to accept our bodies and ourselves, be nice to ourselves, and not feel guilty or bad or unproductive. (THE HORROR.)
Isn’t There Another Level to This Game?
Didn’t you hope that we’d all get to some point in our lives where this body/self love would just get EASY? Simple. Love your body and yourself. Okay, got it!
A little belly? Not a problem. Frecklemania on your neck? Who cares. And your ankles — well, you’ve had cankles your whole life, no matter how young, no matter how thin. Eastern European peasant stock. Built sturdy, like a Ford truck.
Really. When does this day of acceptance come for us ankle peasants?
When do we get to be blissful in our own loveliness?
Siri, Directions to Bliss Town, Please!
Somebody must live there. (Holler if you do!) Is this a destination for real? Can I put it into Google Maps?
Although I imagine the Village of Self-Acceptance is probably high on a cliffside, with one of those whack suspension bridges you have to cross to get there. Maybe some flaming arrows coming at you, too.
Or is this destination just more imaginary fluff made up by people who want to sell us books and courses and subscriptions and food and fitness? Think about it:
Our society sells us body shame AND the solutions to our body shame.
That’s a capitalistic merry-go-round and we keep buying tickets.
This Little Piggy Said “Fuck It”
So, when I was walking yesterday in the Seattle mist and listening to Mary Lambert’s Shame Is an Ocean I Swim Across (good so far but insert many trigger warnings here) and she said, “Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet” — I stopped right there in the drizzle and thought:
Is that even POSSIBLE? I’m sure Mom loved these little piggies a TON.
But — more importantly — what if it is possible? Wouldn’t that be amazing?
What if you could love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet?
Boy howdy, now that’s a GOAL.
I don’t have all the answers but I’m going to try to get there. Join me. Maybe we both get there.
Crazier things have happened. Let’s fucking do this.
"Love Your Body the Way Your Mother Loved Your Baby Feet"
One of the best parts of being over 50 is the lack of fucks.
The rickety bridge with flaming arrows -- I immediately remembered a scene in Kung Fu Panda. Ha! And the cankles. I've had cankles for as long as my mother loved my baby feet. Again, what a much needed laugh I received today from your treasure chest of insight. Thanks always, Lisbeth.