Never mind what lies beneath what about what's out on show?

This entry may be a bit disjointed as I want to start while my thoughts are fresh in my head but it's 7am...mad time in our house, with people waking up and beginning their day.
I was thinking about how we feel about ourselves yesterday, I suppose talking about Sophie and her incredible confidence started the thoughts and then e.mailing with my friend Lacy got the thoughts really on a roll. Why is it that we have such a downer on ourselves? It's so easy to think the very worst of ourselves isn't it? I mean to say, if I give a lot of thought about my body I would have to say that it has, so far, actually served me incredibly well, it pretty much has done everything I have ever asked it and quite splendidly too...this floppy old body has housed, cooked and pushed out 6 of the, if I must say so myself, most perfect and beautiful children. It has done this with actually very little trouble whatsoever. Twice for reasons known only to the Lord it didn't hold onto babies, after 10 weeks they left my body and went back from whence they came. If at some stage I need to elaborate on that I may well come back and say more but for now I am going to elaborate on the fact that on the average day I will look at my body and mentally as well as physically, sag.
Now I have great pride in the fact that even after six children I can still theoretically jump and run and in reality, sneeze and not pee myself, no mean feat let me tell you, I suspect if this were widely known amongst the population of childbearing women I should be heralded as something close to a walking miracle but short of wearing a t-shirt with "my pelvic floor muscles are second to none" it's not something that is going to get me noticed on the street is it? Curious how the fatter you get the more invisible you become.

In my head I am actually quite beautiful, I don't for a minute kid myself that I am a head turning beauty, but in my mind I am passable, I am young and things are probably just about where they should be, I skip along in a fashion maybe unbecoming for a woman in her 40's with 6 kids until I catch sight of myself in a shop window....YIKES!!!! When did THAT happen? Imagine a balloon that has been blown up, tie a knot in it, leave it blown up for a day or two and then very carefully let it down again, do this six times and VOILA you have ME! Tired and saggy, actually make that one of those monster balloons, monstrous, tired and saggy.
I have been known to cause injury similar to whiplash as I snap my head in the opposite direction and force my horrified brain to concentrate on what shade of toilet paper or what washing powder to buy, ANYTHING mundane in order to rescue it from the trauma of trying to take in what it just saw!
How marvellous that my husband seems to love me anyway, he has been known to say the most gloriously perfect thing at the right time, for instance should I dare to mention just how wretched I feel about my image he will react truly and genuinely surprised and say something like " really? why would you feel that?" Give the man a standing ovation....lets bring things into reality though, he is also known for getting it spectacularly wrong too...for instance the time I spent an hour doing something new with my wayward hair only to have him say " how do you usually wear it?" and how about the time I was heavily pregnant and feeling incredibly miserable and self conscious and he whispered " how's my momma hippo today?" ( Ha...that one got him a spectacular 'snot cry'-- you know the sort, where you leak from every facial orifice? Not suprisingly he has always been exceptionally wary of what he says about a pregnant me from then on!) Marvellous then that H can love me even as I am, but why is it such a shock? why is it so easy for me to accept that I can look at him with his bald head, big old belly and Elijah snot streaked trousers and feel something akin to complete adoration for him but the very idea of him being able to take in my greying hair, flabby belly and gravy spattered t-shirt and feel the same kind of affection is so impossible to accept? How arrogant of me to suppose it is only me that is capable of such unconditional love.
Another thought mentioned yesterday in my on-line chat yesterday was that universal feeling of shame we women feel as we get older, or gain weight. You know, I have many friends, a plethora of people I love to pieces who come in all shapes and sizes and when I think of them I think of their faces and the things they bring to my life and I feel endlesly grateful to know them. Never do I think " oh dear, shame she is so fat, I shall have to stop liking her" Not once do I remember feeling excitement at seeing an old friend and then on meeting feel disappointment or shame because they have gained weight or their hair has gone grey, I am always totally filled with joy at just seeing them......so why then, when I am to see a loved one after a long absence, or meet an on-line friend for the first time, is my first thought " ugh s/he'll just die when s/he sees how revolting I have become" I know this is ridiculous, I know it, yet still I cringe and die inside at the thought that they will be horrified.
On this note I shall go and get on with my day, there are little boys to kiss and toys to kick out of the way......