Descending From the Stratosphere

After all that sensation play, my mind drops into reflection.  Not a bad thing… it’s a way to process along the journey.

I’ve had a good deal of fun exploring my body this weekend and how it responds to things.  It’s still a delightful mystery to me at times and it seems I’m constantly discovering new things about myself.  Apparently I don’t know ‘the back of my own hand’…

Of one thing I’ve always been acutely aware… my body is battle-scarred.  Not by war, but by life lived.  Each scar has its own story.

I’m not one to break bones (except in my mouth at age 20… have a lovely metal plate over the roof of my mouth now, which is delightful to thump against with my tongue stud when I’m listening to music!); instead I tend to take out cartilage, rip tendons and ligaments, gash skin and soft tissue to require suturing.  I fall – a lot – but it hasn’t stopped me from being a tomboy from the word ‘Go!’… my most spectacular scar is from when I ripped my knee open to the bone falling off my bike onto the gear chain at age 8; my biggest spectacle? was skiing down a flight-and-a-half of stone-and-metal stairs on my knees/shins at school at age 12.  I still climb trees and rocks, jump from moving swings, skate (ice and in-line), and play soccer.

Though I’m weight-for-height, my figure is far less than perfect, a product of having carried triplets, twins, and having undergone multiple abdominal surgeries as well as dropping weight far too fast in recent years.  I’m not ashamed of my body per se (most if not all the scars I consider a badge of honour for having lived an interesting life); I do get self-conscious when I see my male friends ogling images of ‘perfect’ females and knowing I look nothing like that.  Yes, I could be more fit, but I do keep reasonably active and there are things I can do flexibility-wise that my daughter, for all her youth and agility, can’t hold a candle to.

It’s all in what you do with what you have, of course… when I had ‘The Body’, my first husband walked away and into the arms of a 19yo bimbo who knew what to say and how to flaunt her ‘wares’ to entice him away.  On the other hand, my sister has been morbidly obese since her first pregnancy at age 22, and I’ve given up trying to keep track of her current and former lovers; her dance card is always full and then some!  When I’ve lost in relationships, I’ve been painfully aware that it’s due to my social skills – or lack thereof – not in any sense of the physical.

As for what I look for – elements of physique are nice, yes, and I would of course want to make sure the parts fit together! – I am drawn to a person’s eyes, sense of humour, and whether we have anything to talk about.  Those are the things that endure far beyond physical attributes.

In the end, I am me… I am what I am.  Take me or leave me; I am truly answerable only to myself and what I can bear to live with when all is said and done.  I like to think I am worth ‘the second glance’ and that I have an unlimited potential for growth.  Encouragement on the journey is always welcome :)