Growing Instead of Shrinking
Our society profits from our self-hatred.
Mentally, because a mind consumed with self-criticism is a mind distracted from bigger questions. If we’re busy obsessing over our wrinkles, our stomachs, our weight, or whether we’re somehow failing at beauty, we’re less likely to notice the systems that benefit from our insecurity. Give them bread and circuses and they will never revolt.
And literally, because there is an entire economy built on convincing us that we are one product, procedure, or one size smaller away from finally becoming acceptable.
Yesterday, I unexpectedly caught myself stepping outside that vice.
After a forgotten social engagement, a friend suggested I take a break. I had already been considering it, but decided I would take time off this week before school is out. The night before my day off, I had a dream about spending the day at a pool—specifically the pool where my friend and I spent endless summer days in high school. Those days felt joyful, so I took the dream as a sign.
I grabbed a salad and sunscreen, and headed to a local pool.
As I sat in the shade listening to the MOST late ‘90s/early 2000s playlist, I found myself looking around. Teenagers. Middle-aged women. Older women. Bodies in every shape, size, and stage of life.
And suddenly, a question landed in my lap:
When did I decide that my, or even more widely the, pre-teen or teenage body is the ideal body forever? More importantly, why is a woman's beauty so often measured by her proximity to girlhood? (I mean, I think we know why.)
We have built entire industries around helping grown women look less visibly adult. We celebrate maturity in almost every area of life except our bodies. There, we're encouraged to chase the features of adolescence.
The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed.
Nothing in nature stays the same. Everything changes because it is supposed to. Every stage serves a purpose.
I’ve watched this happen in real time with my daughter. Her body as a baby was perfect for being a baby. Her body as a toddler was perfect for learning to walk. Her body now is perfect for who she is becoming. No one mourned the version she used to be. We simply celebrated each stage as it arrived.
So why don’t I offer myself the same grace?
Why do I look at her changing body with wonder, but view my own changing body with criticism?
Why have I been taught to believe that growth is beautiful in children but failure in women?
As I sat there, surrounded by women living inside bodies that had carried them through decades of life, I realized how much of my thinking had been shaped by a culture that profits from women trying to shrink themselves… our waists… our appetites… our discomfort…
And buy something while you’re at it.
The realization arrived on a day that was supposed to be unremarkable. I wasn’t seeking wisdom. I was just sitting by a pool.
But healing often sneaks up on us that way. As I’ve written about before, one of the greatest gifts of motherhood is that my daughter has become a mirror for my own.
So today, I’m going to wear something I normally wouldn’t wear. I’m going to let fabric rest against the parts of my body I usually hide with shapewear. I’m going to feel my stomach. The softness that culture has spent years telling me is wrong.
Self-acceptance is not passive. It is an act of resistance. Every time I choose appreciation over criticism, presence over perfection, gratitude over shame, I refuse to participate in a system that profits from my unhappiness. My body is not a problem to solve.
