Warning: Adult language ahead.

It’s safe to say living in a body doesn’t really feel all that safe.

This fuck’n thing can turn on you at any moment. That being said, it also has a pretty amazing self-repair system. And for the most part, it can drive itself. But, that doesn’t mean I don’t begrudge it 90 percent of the day.

Some days I get mad at my nose. I think, “You stupid Italian nose, why can’t you be cuter?” But, what I’m really saying is that, “I’m still single, nose, because you are fucking up my face.” And once my nose just sits there and refuses to change on its own, I start getting mad at my stomach.

“Stomach, why don’t you have abs?” Then my mind gets in the mix and is all, “Well, Rebekah, you are a lazy fuck who doesn’t work out enough, eat well enough, and can’t afford a personal trainer and personal chef.” Then I get mad at my stomach for preventing me from being sexy enough to make a million dollars or however much it would cost to pay my bills and prioritize a personal trainer and chef.

This then turns into a landslide of comparing myself to women who do have “perfect” bodies, which translates to hours wasted on Instagram.

I never get mad at my boobs though. I’m always like, “Thanks boobs for being fun.” And I do, also, get mad at the random moles that decide to mar my perfect Italian skin.

This brings me to my adult acne issue. And the chin hair issue. And the white hair on my head issue. And the constant shaving of my vagina issue. Which then brings me back to the money issue since I don’t spend my money on laser hair removal and other beauty enhancement treatments.

The worst judgment I have against my body is that it is “unfuckable.” This is mainly because beyond just cosmetic issues, I also experience chronic neuropathy. Basically, after a bout with my spine swelling, the nerves in my vagina and back of my legs and feet decided to stop working. After 35 years my vagina was like “Fuck it. I’m over it.”

I’m actually not mad about it.

I’m more upset about not being pretty enough. Actually, it’s not that. It is that I’ve been just pretty enough to conjure up attention from men, but now my face has lines on it that don’t go away when I slip into “resting bitch face.” I have scars. And no amount of makeup can hide them. So, I assume that, without my beauty, I am irrelevant.

I judge my body as unlovable, and in turn, I hate it.

I also don’t like how it reflects how feeble and unruly my mind is. I have this point of view that if I was a “better” person, I would have more money in the bank because my body would have done what it needed to do in order to acquire the things it actually wants—luxury, touch, and pampering. But, it also wants to be worked like a blue-collar field-hand—in bed.

Like, if my body was everything I wanted it to be, I would weigh 130 pounds, have a flat stomach, toned ass, beautiful arms, flawless skin (no moles or scars from acne—only cool scars), and it would be touched every day by a man who is crazy about me.

So, why am I not choosing that? It’s because I am afraid of my own body.

So now what?

An even better question is why would I choose to hate myself? I mean, all the cool kids are doing it. So, I guess hate is a place to belong. Love is just too accessible since it is everywhere and everything. Real rebels hate themselves to prove just how unique they are.

Plus, there is virtue in choosing things that are difficult. It’s the old martyr’s club that has been established for a few thousand years now and the only VIP members are the ones who can’t ever quite get in.

The simple answer is judging your body is stupid.

And I do it because my mind and my body are like an old married couple who bicker from dawn to dusk. I’m the most sexual person I know who doesn’t have sex every day. How stupid is that?

My body is like, “Touch me.” And my mind is like, “What’s in it for me?”

They are two sons of bitches in a standoff.

The only way anything gets done is by using other people to reflect back my stupidity and then relieving myself of judgment by getting other people to judge me (or at least have them pretend they are because, let’s be honest, the only judgments we care about are the ones we create.)

Don’t even get me started on all the judgments I have bought into about sex. I mean, my soul won’t even hang-out in my body, so how am I supposed to get another person to hang-out in my body?

Fortunately, there is a way to shift all of this.

Do what is really easy.

For me, writing is really easy. It is easy for me to podcast. It is easy for me to be kind to other people—especially the assholes. And it is easy to enjoy beautiful things, savory foods, and the sweetness life affords in the simplest of moments—like kissing.

I get caught up in what I should be doing. God knows every goddamn life-coach is writing a “how to” manual on living life. But, they don’t know how to live your life. And if you don’t know how to live your life, then start by being curious enough to ask the question, “What is the joyful expression of you?”

It is as simple as choosing what feels light to you and choosing to allow the awareness of lightness to inhabit your pure conscious space—which is your body.

Bodies don’t have opinions. They just do what we ask of them because they are the universe. If you choose to hate your body it will respond, “Tell me what to do.” Okay, that’s what we are doing.

Do what is easy instead of trying to overcome what is hard for you.

What points of view do you have about things having to be hard?

Acknowledge the things your body has ease with. Do what is easy and you will have more ease in your life. And if you want to change something, then choose something different.

A great place to continue from is kindness.

Treat your body like it is the kindest most gentle puppy dog. Play with it.

Then acknowledge, “I am not my body and my body wants to have a life-long relationship.” It is the greatest partner you have been looking for your whole life.

It doesn’t want to be abused.

Ponder, “What would it be like to be with myself in my body?”

How gentle could we be with our bodies?

Then take a deep breath. There you are. Hi.

And in continuation of this thing we call existence, ponder this, “How much communion could you have right now that would create more space for your body to just be so that you can be fully you?”

I’m never going to judge you as harshly as I judge myself. Thank you for giving me awareness to stop it! Just stop it!

With love from my body to yours.

*Authors Note: This article was inspired by my good friend Matt Bochsler, who is an Access Consciousness practitioner. He challenged me to write down all the judgments I have about my body. It’s a great exercise to do if you enjoy freedom. I’d also like to add that I have a judgment that in order to be an effective therapist and psychic, I have to be perfect and not expose my dark side. But, I choose freedom over perfection. So, I hope my truth helped you set yourself free. Thank you for reading! 

~

Author: Rebekah McClaskey

Images: Author’s Own

Editor: Travis May