...or, more lessons in Self-Acceptance...
It's interesting, when I look at myself, what parts of myself I have no problems in accepting, and which parts I need to work on.
What I call "wisdom-hairs" most people would call gray hairs. As I close in on forty years of age, I notice more of them. I can see wee strands of silver in among the dark brown - and I think they're uber-cool. :-)
What really amuses me is the reaction other peeps have to my occasional silver strands, especially if they're the shorter "mutant" ones that refuse to grow out straight, and zigzag their way straight up from my head! I had one co-worker who begged me to allow her to pluck it out! After a few minutes, I managed to dissuade her in quite convincing fashion, and she never bugged me about it afterwards. My mother, on the other hand, continues to point them out, and offers to tweeze them for me...so I dissuade her a bit differently: "I can always shave my head if they get too numerous." That shuts her up for a few days/weeks. (lol)
In a sense, it's a sad commentary that such a natural part of experiencing life, and adding on the years, is so, what, feared in this society. It's a hair that no longer has color produced for it. So what! Will I have a head of silver hair in my crone years? Probably not; genetics kept most of my grandmother's hair dark until the day she drew her last breath, and my mother has very little gray as she draws her Social Security payments every month. It would be cool to be all silver, though...
But my "winter belly" provides a bit more of a challenge to my levels of self-acceptance.
My belly has grown a bit rounder in the time of stillness - as it should, because folks generally do less in the Winter than they do in the Summer. Add to that a bit less yoga as I've engaged in some serious navel-gazing and internal shapeshifting, and it comes as no real surprise that I have a belly. (All the self-divination I've done for myself indicate that I tend toward the zaftig, anyway!)
What is the surprise is now quickly my thoughts can turn negative when I regard myself: oh, you're going to gain back all the weight you lost, and then some! You're never going to be at a "healthy" weight; there is no such thing!
For the record, there's still "less of me" than there was at this time last year, and I have never been anorexic/bulimic in this lifetime. I despise vomiting, and starvation just makes me a queen bitch! - so the tendencies never took root.
But this just goes to show how deep, and how universal, the cultural conditioning has become, and how much Work remains to be done to uproot and toss this poisonous weed from my mind, and perhaps from the minds of many women, for good. So I still practice active lovin' on my belly, and rewriting the niggling little negatives as they arise in my psyche...reaffirming and drawing ever closer to total Self-Acceptance. I'm more than happy to share helpful hints, if anyone is interested. :-)
I guess the final lesson is that self-acceptance comes in layers, and by degrees...and that it's an ever-evolving, constantly growing process. :-)
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