This week I decided to participate in More than Cheese and Beer’s Sunday Confessions. Each week she gives a new prompt and we have to confess. This week’s prompt was INSECURITIES. Here we go:
Insecurities are dynamic and powerful creatures that grow and change with you as you age, like your thighs, hairline, or ability to hold your pee while laughing, jumping, coughing or walking. Motherhood has certainly knocked a few of my old insecurities out of me. I used to feel modest about my body. Was I thin enough? Were my boobs big enough? Were they too big? Did people find me attractive? Was I showing enough skin? Was I showing too much?
By the time I was in labor with my first son my body issues had gone right out the window with my figure. My naked body was on display for all to see. I don’t even remember whether there was a door on my delivery room. I didn’t care. I started out wearing a nightgown, but somewhere between “this is starting to really hurt” and “I don’t think I can take it anymore” it went missing. I was stark naked by the time I reached “for the love of God, get this thing out of me NOW”. I lost track of the number of hands that ventured into what used to be a very private place. It was now just a vacant lot full of squatters. The first few months of motherhood taught me that the rest of my body was no longer mine either. My breasts were public property.
Now, two children in, I have lost every stitch of modesty that I once had. My boobs have been seen and ignored by hundreds, if not thousands, of people all over the world. Yes, I said world! My boobs and I get around. My insecurity about whether or not other people find me attractive has all but disappeared. One look at my now downward pointing breasts, unwashed hair, dirty clothes, pale face and sleep-deprived sunken eyes, and I know the answer: of course they aren’t. And who can blame them? My body belongs to the adorable little succubus who is attached to my hip 99% of the time. There’s simply no room for anyone else. So I no longer have to worry about it.
Other insecurities remain even as I grow and change as a person. When I was younger I used to worry that people were talking about me. I’d see two girls whispering and assume immediately that they were trying to hide something from me. Why else would they be whispering? Ok, so maybe I was a little narcissistic too. I can remember having a very public fight with my high school boyfriend during lunch period, and worrying more about whether people would gossip than the fact that my boyfriend was a philanderer. Of course, I didn’t use words like philanderer back then. I should have. Anyway, I would have chosen invisibility over scrutiny any day. I did everything I could to fit in, and when that failed I tried to drift, unnoticed, through my adolescence.
I am still insecure about what people think of me to this day, but it’s taken a new form. I used to want to blend into the background. Now I want to stand out. I used to worry that people were talking about me. Now I’m worried that they’re not. Go figure, right? I want to be seen. I want to be heard. As a writer, I want to be NOTICED! And now my biggest insecurity, and my Sunday Confession, is that deep down I am terrified that no one will be interested in me at all. I worry that my blog, and my writing, will simply fade into that background I used to covet so much during high school.
So this is me, shouting at the top of my lungs “I AM HERE!!”
I hope you don’t think that’s too forward 😉