Let me tell you how my body confidence journey kicked off last month. I was avoiding mirrors like the plague after some awful beach photos. Tried that corset waist trainer crap from Instagram – nearly passed out bending to tie my sneakers. Total waste of fifty bucks.
The Eye-Opener Moment
Stumbled upon this body acceptance group meetup downtown. Almost bailed ’cause I figured it’d be hippies hugging trees. Showed up shaking in my husband’s oversized hoodie. Met Sarah – size 18 with thigh rub worse than mine – rocking fishnets under cutoff shorts. Blew. My. Mind.
The Ugly First Steps
Next Saturday, I did the scariest thing ever: wore jeans WITHOUT a long top covering my butt. Felt like naked skydiving. Sweated through my shirt at Starbucks when some college kids laughed nearby (turns out they laughed at a TikTok video).
Bought my first non-black underwear after Sarah dragged me to a plus-size boutique. When I saw the floral print? Freaked out. Looked like gift wrap on a bowling ball. But the silk felt insane against skin.
Three game-changers I learned:
- Stopped buying “goal jeans” that squeeze like sausage casings
- Started doing power poses naked every damn morning
- Put post-its saying “this belly fed three babies” on every mirror
The Messy Middle Part
Tried boudoir photoshoot – disaster city. Cried when they showed me proofs. Double chin looked like a freaking pelican pouch. Photographer quietly switched from sexy poses to me laughing while eating pizza. Magic happened.
Actually bought a crop top last Tuesday. Walked around Target holding my breath so my guts wouldn’t pop out. Nobody died. Nobody even stared. Felt like cheating gravity.
Where I’m At Now
Still don’t magically love my rolls every morning. Still avoid sideways mirrors. But now when my teenage daughter says she’s fat? Whipped out my “love handle appreciation” dance move. She cracked up so hard she almost choked.
My rules now? Wear what makes me happy. Touch soft spots without wincing. Throw the damn scale in the garage with the broken power tools. This body grew humans and survived forty years – treat it like your grandma’s favorite squishy armchair.