Inferior No More
Photo credit: Anne Taintor
Leaning in to kiss Isaac goodnight (on his hair, never his cheek because that’s how he rolls), he gave me a puzzled look and said “So, wait..I used to drink from your boobs?” “Yes” I said. “Why? Is that weird?” Without missing a beat, Isaac responds with “Well, a. They’re oversized round cups of nipples.” Reason b. was never offered, a. was apparently enough. J.D. laughed and laughed, Isaac joined in. Oversized round cups of nipples. Hmm. Never thought of them that way. Isaac, always offering a fresh perspective.
The topic of breastfeeding has come up before with my children and it’s always an eye-opening conversation. The fact that they once had a vital connection to this “tee hee hee” part of my body blows their minds and frequently enough to make me think that we need to spend more time with new mothers. It also makes me think that our society has quite a way to go in normalizing discussion around the power of the female body. Holding life, birthing life, sustaining life. That’s some pretty powerful shit that gets a whole lot of snickering from kids who are absorbing all this societal abnormalization. And, no, I’m not digressing. I have found that whenever I teeter on the edge of saying something important, I discount it by saying “but I digress.” Let me be clear. I’m not digressing. I’m speaking my mind and the thoughts I have are valid and worthy of being written, heard, and, perhaps, heeded.
I learned body shame early on in my life. Ass too big, thighs too fat (they were actually all muscle), boobs bigger than all the others, and my “monthly curse” started before all of my friends. Hiding all of that became my job. I dreamed of Always pad wrappers that opened silently so no one would know I was in a bathroom stall dealing with that curse. I wanted a bra that would flatten my chest. I felt abnormal and, unfortunately, society didn’t do a great job of telling me otherwise. Boys teased us about our bodies and we, in turn, teased one another. Tee. Hee. Hee. Except not one of us was laughing on the inside.
Before you shed a tear for the shame we felt, these stories (at least the ones I know well) all have happy endings. Through hell and over time, we learned to harness the power that our bodies possess. But, still, the shame continues. We cling to the mindset that began back when we were made to feel ashamed. We beat ourselves up when indulging in things that we know will add to our curviness and think about ways to fix the parts of our bodies that need work. My stomach muscles have never rebounded after three live births. I should do some sit-ups but, instead, I sip coffee and write. I could sit here and think negative thoughts about the rolls around my midsection but I’m done with that shit. This stomach made humans and likes dark chocolate. Maybe I’ll do some sit-ups at some point but, for now, I will rest knowing that I’m just fine, just the way I am.
The most recent issue of National Geographic arrived yesterday entitled “Women, A Century of Change”. After flipping through the pages before I sat down to write this, a quote from one of the articles stays with me—“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Thank you, Eleanor Roosevelt, for hitting the nail so squarely on the head. I no longer hide my ass or want to flatten my chest. I embrace the body I have because I am lucky to have it. Though Isaac may think it strange that he once depended upon these oversized round cups of nipples to live and grow, I think it is miraculous and magical. Why would I hide that? All of that is about as normal as normal gets. No more teeheeheeing about the female body. Inferior? Ha! You’ll never have my consent.