Growing up in the ’80s, I read my fair share of women’s magazines, like Seventeen, Cosmopolitan and Glamour. I idolized supermodels like Paulina Porizkova, Yasmin Le Bon, Linda Evangelista and others.
Their thin frames filled me with angst as I grew taller and curvier. I slowly realized that despite my occasional desire to disappear, I was growing into a woman of size. And I could either live in denial of it, run from it, or embrace it.
After many years of fighting it, I finally chose to embrace it. I learned to see myself as an Amazon, a member of the race of strong warrior women of Greek mythology. I ceased viewing myself as “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman” and began thinking of myself as more of a strong, kick-ass warrior, fearlessly being herself in a world that was not built for her.
I stopped the negative self-talk about something being wrong with me — as if my size and curves were something I needed to fix. Now, I’ve recently embarked on a fitness journey to become healthier … but the reality is, I will always be what the world considers plus size. And I am 100 percent fine with that.
Instead of constantly bemoaning my so-called flaws, I learned to love my uniqueness. I look at it like this: My personality needs every inch of me to be fully expressed.
I learned to love the fact that, especially with killer heels on, I’m frequently the tallest woman in a room. I ditched roomy blouses and embraced body-conforming clothing to show off my figure. I appreciated the non-size-related features of myself that I’d always received compliments on — like my big blue eyes, creamy skin, beautiful hands and voluminous hair.
I stopped hanging around people who couldn’t stop foisting their unrealistic attitudes toward women’s beauty on me — and I let people close to me know when I wasn’t going to let them cross those boundaries anymore.
In my 20s, I would have given just about anything to look like one of those haute-couture-wearing waifs of the high-fashion runway. But now I love to see all the gorgeous plus-size models everywhere, rocking their bods with an in-your-face confidence that radiates a “gives-zero-f*cks” attitude that is long overdue.
I have also learned that the societal prejudices and warped thinking that invaded my psyche from an early age are things I no longer have to accept. I am the captain of my ship, and I choose love — love for me, for my family and friends, and even for my detractors. I choose to reinforce that love with standards of how I will — and will not — allow myself to be treated. Both by myself and others.
Because like most women, I can be my own worst critic. One of my favorite passages about embracing yourself is from a poem called “The Desiderata” by Max Ehrmann:
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
This is a choice you can make, too. Step out of the box. Decide right here and now that you are worthy. Your body is a strong temple. With your curves, you will inhabit every bit of space your Creator (or the universe, whichever you prefer) meant you to have.
Own it. Live it. Love it. Strive for it.
About the Author: Aimee Kunau is a professional marketing and creative writer based in Boise, Idaho. Her passion is the written word, but she also is a raving fangirl for fashion, makeup and jewelry. She encourages every woman to celebrate her own unique gifts and beauty.
