Today’s BODYLOVE challenge: Today I did yoga while naked. In front of a mirror.
At first it was fairly horrifying, watching the various parts of my body shift, jiggle, wrinkle, and bunch. (Plough makes my breasts look like misshapen meringue cookies, and downward dog makes them look like the teats of a cow, adding in the extra bonus of being able to see the excess skin of my belly crepe together and hang towards the floor. Oh joy! 😉
But after a while I wasn’t paying attention to the mirror. Yoga is a meditative state for me, and in that zen space I managed to forget about my nakedness, about the mirror. About my insecurities. Everything lost in the ebb and flow of breath and movement, and for those moments, my body was really MY OWN THING.
Eventually the mirror retook my attention, but it wasn’t the same somehow. Instead of staring at my not-so-taut belly-skin, I was seeing the muscles beneath. My breasts still bothered me, but it wasn’t as intense a feeling. In fact, seeing them got me thinking about porn.
Not modern porn; silicone injected, glossy, high-budget porn … but 70’s and 80’s porn. When the girls mostly still had real breasts, real faces, real buttocks, and real orgasms. It got me thinking about how I’ve been judging myself against an ideal that, for the most part, requires PLASTIC SURGERY to achieve. That most of the images in my head of what a “beautiful woman” looks like aren’t even real. Hippie women that had pubic hair and flowers painted on their faces and bodies. Which reminded me that I have washable markers.
So I spent the next hour or so drawing designs on my body. It was an interesting exercise, tracing all the curves and planes. Seeing my body as a canvas for my art. It isn’t the full journey, not by a long shot, and I know that. I have a long way to go. But for now, I am sitting here with a robe around my shoulders (it’s chilly) and enjoying my handiwork, and my body … and that is enough.