Esteemed Enough?

I received a compliment from a younger man, which made me think about how I view myself. He told me I was a very attractive woman and asked how I fended men off since I must be getting propositioned a lot. 

Now, firstly I'm not very good at taking compliments. I shrugged it off saying, I'm a mother of two and no men approach me because they find me intimidating. I did not find any of this offensive or crossing any boundaries, because this person who I don't know very well is good at reading people and I immediately assumed he was talking about my inner light or maybe even my intellect. Then I asked myself, why did I so easily assume that? 

I have never considered myself beautiful or even attractive. I have had my dad's dusky complexion and his heavy eyelids. My legs were never shapely or long, my breasts were never full. At one point, I was so thin that people assumed I was starving myself. And apart from my eyes which are my treasure, I've never been fond of any part of mine. 

I realised that when it comes to my body, I have low self esteem issues. Right from the time I was a child, I was always told I was ugly or awkward. Because I dressed up like a boy to deal with molestation or some other fucked up shit that was going on in my life, I never really felt looks were important. In fact, I consciously tried to look as uninteresting as I could to keep the other gender away. 

Things changed in my late teens. I developed an unconventional dressing sense that was a little too extra for the place I studied in. Boys still made fun of me, placed bets on me to get me to react and gave me hell as I stayed away from them as far as possible. I remember one such 11th grade picnic where we played 'fish pond' in the bus. All the anonymous comments meant for me were about my looks. Who do you think you are, some actress? Why do you dress like you're asking for it? 

I never asked for it, or anything else. I was terrified of boys. I didn't know what I was doing wrong. I reached a point where my rebellious teenage self said, Fuck it. No matter what I do, I'm going to still be judged. So I decided to never bother about what people thought of me. There were sweet, traditional girls who were bunking class and kissing boys in secret hideouts. And here I was, being judged again, someone who could not even talk to boys. There was one guy who liked me, and I liked him too. But we never spoke. One day, he decided to approach me and before he could even say Hi, I started running away. I ran for the next 15 minutes till I reached home. Needless to say, he never looked at me again. 

One of my closest friends, A had moved to another college and started seeing a boy, who is now her husband. We met at that time for our evening walk and she told me, 'I was telling my bf all about you. He asked me, is she pretty? I said, no, but she is very, very smart.'

I was thrilled that she said that about me. But somewhere I was also sad, that maybe I was just not the pretty types. So I made sure I was always more intelligent than men, always one step ahead, more sure, more dominating, more alpha, because I would never be the beautiful one. 

When I met R and fell in love, I was not sure how I would ever get physical. But he was patient and gentle with me. He understood that my body was my trigger. It took me to places in my childhood I did not want to go to. Slowly, I learnt to understand and appreciate every part of it. If he loved my body, maybe there was something worth loving in it. For that understanding and making me accept my body, I will always be thankful to him. 

When he left, I took its discarded form and decided to burn a fire out of what I considered its trash. I would now come back in my power. I would make men beg for me. And I did. For a very long time. But it still did not make me love myself. I was still labelled. Just different names now. Seductress, cock tease, sexy. It was all an act. I played this role so well that the men I encountered could not see how broken I really was inside. 

When I had children, all the insecurities came back. I was 25 kg heavier, so fat that I could not recognise myself any more. The taunts still continued from family, friends, and as always, men. Lose weight, exercise, what have you done to yourself? I went into depression and cried. I was fat and ugly. I would never be wanted, I would never be admired. I stopped looking in the mirror for 5 years. 

Somewhere we all find our breakthroughs. I found mine too. Somewhere in 2018, something changed in me. I decided to excercise. Initially, it was to lose weight. But the more I went through my inner journey, the more I began to love myself the way I was. The goal now became to be fit and healthy, not thin. I was going to heal my mind first. The body would automatically follow. 

I have a paunch thanks to my Diastasis Recti which means my abdomen will always be flabby. I have stretch marks and varicose veins and discoloration and flaws galore. But I am more than my body. I am the battles I have endured, the stitches on my heart for sewing it back up time and again, I am my mind that is boundless and sharp, I am also my soul that is only now beginning to learn its true purpose. 

Most importantly I am me. My self esteem cannot be tied to the compliments I receive or don't. It is not the validation I seek from anyone. Even if I'm not loved, I still love me. Or at least I'm finding things to love about me. 

If there is one thing I do love about myself, it is my purity. I am not jealous, not vindictive, not petty, not bitter. I love without motives, I give without expectations. If I am your friend, consider yourself lucky. I will do anything for the people I love. 

I am good, I am good, I am good... 

And that's a good start.