(After seeing about five “How To Get the Perfect Body” type articles in a magazine, I wanted to blog something in response. So, here it is.)
I have my father’s nose.
I never realized it before, that is, until my grandmother pointed it out about a month ago. Sitting at the dining room table with me, she poked at my nose and said it was just like my dad’s. And I smiled and she smiled and it was a cute moment.
The thing is, my nose as always been a point of contention with me. I suppose it’s been since high school when it became more noticeable and I became more noticeable. My nose is extremely crooked. Not in that if you look at it in a certain light kind of way, but more so in a oh, wow, your nose really points to the right, doesn’t it kind of way. Yeah, it’s there. It’s crooked. And it makes me sneeze a lot.
In fact, there are quite a few parts of me that have been points of contention over time. My belly rolls remind me that playing Just Dance once a week doesn’t equal working out. My thighs are so large I have to go one size up in pants, and then hope they fit everywhere else. My hips are pointy and bulbous. My shoulders are broad. I’m far from perfect.
But here’s my secret – my deep dark secret – I love my body.
I love that my belly rolls remind me that I’m human, and I, thankfully, eat enough. I love that my hips accentuate how small my waist is. I love that my thighs let me have more of an hour-glass shape. I love that I’m not a stick – and that my shoulders and arms remind me of the muscle buried beneath.
Like many others, it took me a bit to get to this point. I had moments of doubt, but I never gave in. I never once did anything I’d regret. Because no matter how uncomfortable I was with my body while growing up, I still knew it was mine.
So when the doctor told me that my nose is crooked because I have a deviated septum, and asked if I wanted to get it fixed, I said no. Because I love my crooked nose. It’s my dad’s nose, after all.