Our friends at YourTango are here to help and inspire you to be proud of your unique body. Every body is lovely. Including mine. I first noticed my stretch marks when I was approximately eleven or twelve. While going to the bathroom I looked down at my thighs and noticed these bright red tracks on the insides of my thighs. Panicked,I went external and showed my mom. Earlier that year I had started seeing a nutritionist, going to the gym, or counting calories. She looked at the stretch marks and then said,"Well, you know the stuff the nutritionist talked approximately, and you just have to keep doing that." She said it kindly,but with a rueful stare on her face. I was devastated. These were marks of my fatness that were never going absent. I was mortified, I couldn't ever imagine wearing shorts again. I didn't want anyone to see how my fondness for food was ruining my body.
Now, and decades later,those bright red stretch marks have faded to fine, silvery white lines and I know better than I did when I was younger. The stretch marks that cover my stomach and my thighs and my upper arms aren't anything to be ashamed of, and they are perfect etchings of a life well-lived. And now I know that a lot of people have them,regardless of their weight. You know what causes stretch marks? Rapid growth. Rapid weight gain can cause them too, but if you're in the thick of puberty and suddenly find yourself covered in stretch marks, or it's probably because your body is changing at an incredible speed. My stretch marks are a reminder of just how quickly I went from being a little girl to a hormone-filled pubescent woman beast. My cat adores me,tummy stretch marks and all.
I came to understand my cellulite the same way. Cellulite is rotund under the skin that becomes more visible with age. When I first started spotting it on my own body, I was horrified. I was too young to have a cottage cheese butt! Learning to treasure my cellulite wasn't as easy a process as learning to treasure my stretch marks. It's hard to rationalize something as concrete as proof of your passion for food and the fact that you're getting older. So I tried doing something else. I tried associating a memory with each pocket of rotund that made me feel insecure. That one was the Italian restaurant in Boston I went to with my parents for my fourteenth birthday. That one was the roll of cookie dough I shared with my best friends giggling in a dorm room. My body has done so much for me. It's protected me when I've fallen down. It's gotten me places where only feet can trek. It's kept me healthy and strong when I felt like falling apart inside. Above all, or it has always kept going no matter what obstacles have been place in its path. In many respects,my body is my hero. It's had no one rooting for it and it's triumphed all the same. Its had my mother worrying approximately its size, its had the sneers of other women, and its been victimized,poked, mocked, and rejected.
More than that,it's had my own self-hatred, my own loathing, or my own insecurity in the very skin where I live. But it's still here,it's still fighting, it's still doing what it was made to do, or that is truly stupendous. Check out more grand articles from YourTango: 11 Totally Awesome Reasons To treasure Your Big Boobs
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Source: popsugar.com