Learning to Appreciate My Body as a Middle-Aged Woman

Entering a powerful new era.

As a now early middled aged woman, I am learning to appreciate this body of mine.

The gray hairs that are starting to show, dyeing proves to be a temporary solution. My body aches with sensations I’ve never felt before.

As if my lower back and knees are saying — woman, take care of yourself.

I’m learning to love this temple that has carried me through the years. It has kept and safeguarded my secrets. Watched my tears fall. And held my heart together when it felt like it would break into a million pieces.

This body safely birthed my children. And bittersweetly said goodbye to one I would never get to meet.

All births done by c-sections that have left a permanent lower pouch that won’t go away by diet and exercise alone. The lower pouch that I once dreamed of fixing by a tummy tuck. And a breast lift to regain my youthful body.

The body that I prayed I could finally admire nude and exposed. One that the men in my life could love as well with no shame to the scars that show what life has done to me.

But as I enter this new era, the aging with grace, wisdom, and confidence… I know true beauty is not measured by the perfections but the slight imperfections.

The stretch marks remind me of what my body could hold. My breasts remind me of what it means to be a woman even when gravity has taken them hostage. The wrinkles show I have loved, laughed, and cried. The dimples on my skin give it character. The rolls on my curves have accompanied me through the toughest days.

And even though I hold extra weight as a byproduct of stress, anxiety, and worry; I know my weight does not define who I am.

That it should not stop me from giving and receiving love.

I know true confidence comes from standing tall, chin up, eyes forward, straighten that crown, don’t let it fall.

I am reminded of what it means to be a goddess, a woman of beauty, strength, love, and compassion.

As an early-aged middle woman, I am no longer interested in looking hot and sexy for a man to feel adored and turned on. Intimacy is sparked by stimulating the mind. Emotional connection fueled by vulnerability.

Bonding from the depths of our souls. Appreciating this vessel that is holy, sacred, and one of a kind.

I haven’t always been so caring to my body. My youth robbed from comparison and lack of self-love. Striving for perfection by following the next beauty and diet trend.

Throwing myself into the arms of a man that couldn’t love me when I needed to love myself first. Allowing his words to determine if I was worthy and respectable.

But the one that hurt me the most, was myself.

All the years of negative feedback and judgment. Indulging in risky behaviors. Wallowing in self-doubt waiting for something or someone to fill the void.

Criticizing myself for my many failures. Not offering grace when I needed it the most. And wondering why I have let myself go so far down the rabbit hole.

It’s a slow process and a journey that is one of a kind. Learning to let go of the chains that I have put in place as a way for self-sabotage. What does it mean to feel accepted in my own skin?

I don’t know.

I haven’t experienced that freedom yet but I’m getting there.

At forty years old, I am becoming much wiser as age comes with beauty, wisdom, and confidence.

It’s the confidence you can’t buy in stores. The beauty you can’t smudge across your face. And the wisdom that reveals itself through all the trials and errors.

Don’t go yet…

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

Thank you for being here. I hope you stay for a while.