Oh my gosh I should really be sleeping. It's 11:48pm.
I just decided to take a quick peek at a documentary that a dear friend recommended I watch when I was telling her about my "naked face" project.
So I found it on vimeo and before I was 10 minutes in I was sobbing. This video struck a huge cord for me on so many levels.
"The Perfect Vagina" is about women not liking their vaginas and going to extreme measures to change that. It's beautifully done and I have to strongly urge that you watch it - especially if you have daughters.
It really is worse than I thought.
Women hate themselves from head to toe. They think that it's their own individual independent idea to; cover this, paint that, cut this, snip that....the list goes on.
We are misinformed by and large about the real truths. We are marketed to constantly to not like whatever it is that we have - and we believe it. We outright believe it! It becomes so internalized that we believe we aren't good enough.
The truth is that women come in all shapes and sizes from head to toe and who the hell are we to say one shape or size is better than the other. We all know this right? Wrong. We don't apply this to ourselves in the least bit.
Let me ask you something. Honestly, when you see someone with a pimple, or bags under their eyes, or fat here or there - do you think "ew. I can't be her friend. I don't even want to know her!" Think on that for a few.
In 2005, I went under the knife. I had a significant breast reduction. It was elective, but they covered it due to "medical reasons" - like back problems etc. To be quite honest it was for me, totally and completely esthetic. I wanted to be skinny and my great big old boobs were preventing me from attaining the skinny effect that I wanted. I had dieted and taken pills and puked up my food to the point where I was thin enough, but my boobs stood in my way - literally. Plain and simple.
Sure they bothered my back if I bought unsupportive crap bras from La Senza - where they don't even carry my proper size. And ya ok they were heavy, but the truth of the matter is that they just didn't fit with what I wanted and that was a small perky breast.
In other words I wanted what I didn't have. I thought that when I had these small low maintenance perky breasts that I would finally be happy with my body. Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.
At first I was in a wold full of pain. I had a terrible time in surgery and lost a lot of blood so my recovery was a lengthier process. I couldn't drive or wash my hair for an extended period of time. After the initial healing I realized I had lost almost all sensation in my breasts that much like myself, were once highly sensitive. Gone.
The scars look like an anchor. Around the nipple, down the bottom through the centre and then a smile line all the way underneath.
Eventually some sensation came back but now I have massive cysts that come and go and are extremely painful.
How can I not have cysts though really? What did I expect? I disrupted nature. I took out cells that were friends with other cells and the cells left behind are so confused that they just spazz out. It's science.
I have a concave dip in old lefty that really feels bizarre and looks effing weird to boot. It's like a ghost limb but it's a chunk of my boob instead. It feels weird to touch because I can feel that there is a part that should be there. *Shudder.
You know how the cat came back? They thought he was a goner? Well insert "my boobs" into that song. My one friend says that if I had a super power it would be growing boobs. How can you grow boobs back? Well you gain weight, get pregnant and have children of course. I know that some women lose their boobs, but instead mine were like that doll form the 90's, you pull my arm and woosh, boobs grow.
My breast reduction increased the level of difficulty when it came to breastfeeding. I remember when my milk came in, the ducts felt like strings of pearls because they were so blocked and the scar tissue was so vast. It was a sad sad day.
When I was 22 I didn't care if I could nurse my hypothetical babies. When I was 25 and holding two brand spanking new beautiful perfect humans in my arms, each one in football hold crying my damn eyes out because my milk just wouldn't come in fast enough - I cared.
Now I know that some people choose not to nurse, and that you are all reading this and finding one reason or another to try and not identify with what I am saying, writing this off as "Grace's story". We all have something that we beat ourselves up over. Mine has just always been my boobs. I made a big life changing decision and it didn't just affect me - it affect Lilly and Oliver too.
I had my boobs ripped open and robbed. This decision will forever haunt me as long as I live. Not because I don't like how they look, I could care less about double anchor scars - oh and the one nipple that is missing half an areola - but because of the pain that I have when my children and I cuddle and one of them bumps me the wrong way. The sting is enough to make me wanna punch baby elephants. It's so awful and so excruciating that I fly up and yell and then go sit in the bathroom and cry because I am so mad. I'm mad that I screwed around with nature - that I didn't love what I had been blessed with.
Growing up with big boobs, people teased me at school. Guys asked to see them day in and day out, they even offered to pay me, they were that big- no joke. I never liked the attention, ever. It felt like a curse.
So here it is:
The reason that I am doing this naked face project is because when I started to strip it all away, chip at the rock, what I found inside what a beautiful gem. I exchanged my makeup brush for long deserved compliments to myself. I look at myself in the mirror and the negative tries to creep up but I stop it, and somedays all I can muster up is "I love you." - it's been 15 years or more of bullshit meaness to myself and it's high friggen time it stopped. I want to help women love themselves from the outside in. That's right, outside in. When you hate what you see you don't look further. If we can't look in the mirror and go deep and love what we see, or reach in and grab something we like and bring it out - before any of the war paint, how can we take the time to see or show our hearts?
What is on the outside does count because it's a reflection of what is on the inside. The more I remove my protection the more I have to shine my heart. Because I stopped wearing makeup, I now don't need to cover up, enhance or brighten - my confidence has never ever ever been brighter in all my life. I have not been a confident person as far back as I can remember - sure I am funny and I like to entertain, but I have never thought of myself as "pretty" and that does a number on your soul in a society where pretty is held in higher esteem than smart. I have beaten myself down time and time again because I don't look like "her".
So go ahead and say it - you like makeup, it's fun! It makes you feel good! I have heard it all and I have said it all. I know what you are saying, I was there - only but two months ago. I know that I was covering, or enhancing things I didn't like - or didn't want people to see and that's the bottom line. It's comfort - I get it, I am not living under a rock. If you can feel the same with makeup on as without that's great - but there is just no way, why would you spend the time or the money to feel the same as you do without the time or money spent? Not to mention that most of it is pure poison seeping into the largest ORGAN on our bodies - our skin...our eyes...into our nostrils up into our brains...(the cavity between the nasal passage to the brain is so thin that what you sniff becomes direct brain food "Your Brain on Nature" Eva M Selhub M.D.).
A year ago I said to someone "I will never give up my mascara. It's the one thing I love. I don't care that I am completely allergic to it and it burns my eyeballs half-way through the day so bad that I can barely see." ...Um what?!? What was it giving me that I needed that badly?
I have heard 2 people say "People are vain" over the last week. Here is the definition of vain: Having or showing an excessively high opinion of one's appearance, abilities, or worth.
I don't believe that. I don't think that people have a high or excessive opinion of themselves at all. I think that we cover up because we doubt ourselves in some way, shape of form. I believe we are conditioned to be inherently insecure.
Women are their own worst enemies. We are holding the noose. Let go, just let go.
You are good enough, you are pretty enough - even with that big old whatever you got going on today.
Shut it off. Shut all the noise off. Tell it to stop - you are the only one who can. And turn up your light - live a little louder on your channel.
It might be your face, your hair, your ass, your stomach, your big/small boobs, your vagina, your teeth, your complexion, your moles/freckles, your thighs, your calves, your hairy toes, your veiny legs, your back fat, your dark circles under your eyes, your long/short forehead, your blond eyelashes, your red/brown/blond hair.....have I hit it yet?
What the fuck is it all for?
L O V E Y O U R S E L F. We are all different, we are all unique, we are all beautiful.
I think you are all beautiful - every single one of you who sent me a picture. I loved your tired eyes, your bags, your blemishes, your pimples, your freckles. I loved it all so so so much that I was moved to tears upon seeing each new photo.
Thank you for supporting me. You are all amazing, courageous women willing to take a chance, not only on me - but on yourselves.
I had Krista White take some yoga photos of me for my blog - and I had her take one specifically in honour of my boobs. Shoulder stands have helped build a closer more intimate relationship between my boobs and my chin...here is a close up on what shoulder stand looks like from my vantage point:
(Look at that cute little roll around my tummy. That's fat, but mostly skin from having my two big beautiful babies. If I love them how can I not love what happened to my body growing them? Couldn't have had one without the other. I had seen the plastic surgeon for a tummy tuck two years ago and instead I decided that $10,000 was better spent on vacations with my family. How could I remove all evidence that I grew 17 lbs of babies in my body at once? It's the greatest war wound story of my life and I am so grateful...oh my GOD I am soooooo grateful for the "Lollies"! *Tear!
You were born perfect and you are still perfect - even if you had 6 fingers or 3 nipples.
What are you saying that is mean to or about yourself? What do you believe that just isn't true? Start to notice and then...
KISS yourself in the mirror for me, and say I love you!
With mega big boobs, and mega big gratitude - your biggest fan, Grace
P.S. I invite discussion on this of all kinds. I value your opinions and thoughts.
Photos by the AMAZING - Krista White! Check out her site, she is simply amazing and so fun to work with! She brought out my shininess!
http://Www.photographybykristawhite.com/
I just decided to take a quick peek at a documentary that a dear friend recommended I watch when I was telling her about my "naked face" project.
So I found it on vimeo and before I was 10 minutes in I was sobbing. This video struck a huge cord for me on so many levels.
"The Perfect Vagina" is about women not liking their vaginas and going to extreme measures to change that. It's beautifully done and I have to strongly urge that you watch it - especially if you have daughters.
It really is worse than I thought.
Women hate themselves from head to toe. They think that it's their own individual independent idea to; cover this, paint that, cut this, snip that....the list goes on.
We are misinformed by and large about the real truths. We are marketed to constantly to not like whatever it is that we have - and we believe it. We outright believe it! It becomes so internalized that we believe we aren't good enough.
The truth is that women come in all shapes and sizes from head to toe and who the hell are we to say one shape or size is better than the other. We all know this right? Wrong. We don't apply this to ourselves in the least bit.
Let me ask you something. Honestly, when you see someone with a pimple, or bags under their eyes, or fat here or there - do you think "ew. I can't be her friend. I don't even want to know her!" Think on that for a few.
In 2005, I went under the knife. I had a significant breast reduction. It was elective, but they covered it due to "medical reasons" - like back problems etc. To be quite honest it was for me, totally and completely esthetic. I wanted to be skinny and my great big old boobs were preventing me from attaining the skinny effect that I wanted. I had dieted and taken pills and puked up my food to the point where I was thin enough, but my boobs stood in my way - literally. Plain and simple.
Sure they bothered my back if I bought unsupportive crap bras from La Senza - where they don't even carry my proper size. And ya ok they were heavy, but the truth of the matter is that they just didn't fit with what I wanted and that was a small perky breast.
In other words I wanted what I didn't have. I thought that when I had these small low maintenance perky breasts that I would finally be happy with my body. Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffft.
At first I was in a wold full of pain. I had a terrible time in surgery and lost a lot of blood so my recovery was a lengthier process. I couldn't drive or wash my hair for an extended period of time. After the initial healing I realized I had lost almost all sensation in my breasts that much like myself, were once highly sensitive. Gone.
The scars look like an anchor. Around the nipple, down the bottom through the centre and then a smile line all the way underneath.
Eventually some sensation came back but now I have massive cysts that come and go and are extremely painful.
How can I not have cysts though really? What did I expect? I disrupted nature. I took out cells that were friends with other cells and the cells left behind are so confused that they just spazz out. It's science.
I have a concave dip in old lefty that really feels bizarre and looks effing weird to boot. It's like a ghost limb but it's a chunk of my boob instead. It feels weird to touch because I can feel that there is a part that should be there. *Shudder.
You know how the cat came back? They thought he was a goner? Well insert "my boobs" into that song. My one friend says that if I had a super power it would be growing boobs. How can you grow boobs back? Well you gain weight, get pregnant and have children of course. I know that some women lose their boobs, but instead mine were like that doll form the 90's, you pull my arm and woosh, boobs grow.
My breast reduction increased the level of difficulty when it came to breastfeeding. I remember when my milk came in, the ducts felt like strings of pearls because they were so blocked and the scar tissue was so vast. It was a sad sad day.
When I was 22 I didn't care if I could nurse my hypothetical babies. When I was 25 and holding two brand spanking new beautiful perfect humans in my arms, each one in football hold crying my damn eyes out because my milk just wouldn't come in fast enough - I cared.
Now I know that some people choose not to nurse, and that you are all reading this and finding one reason or another to try and not identify with what I am saying, writing this off as "Grace's story". We all have something that we beat ourselves up over. Mine has just always been my boobs. I made a big life changing decision and it didn't just affect me - it affect Lilly and Oliver too.
I had my boobs ripped open and robbed. This decision will forever haunt me as long as I live. Not because I don't like how they look, I could care less about double anchor scars - oh and the one nipple that is missing half an areola - but because of the pain that I have when my children and I cuddle and one of them bumps me the wrong way. The sting is enough to make me wanna punch baby elephants. It's so awful and so excruciating that I fly up and yell and then go sit in the bathroom and cry because I am so mad. I'm mad that I screwed around with nature - that I didn't love what I had been blessed with.
Growing up with big boobs, people teased me at school. Guys asked to see them day in and day out, they even offered to pay me, they were that big- no joke. I never liked the attention, ever. It felt like a curse.
So here it is:
The reason that I am doing this naked face project is because when I started to strip it all away, chip at the rock, what I found inside what a beautiful gem. I exchanged my makeup brush for long deserved compliments to myself. I look at myself in the mirror and the negative tries to creep up but I stop it, and somedays all I can muster up is "I love you." - it's been 15 years or more of bullshit meaness to myself and it's high friggen time it stopped. I want to help women love themselves from the outside in. That's right, outside in. When you hate what you see you don't look further. If we can't look in the mirror and go deep and love what we see, or reach in and grab something we like and bring it out - before any of the war paint, how can we take the time to see or show our hearts?
What is on the outside does count because it's a reflection of what is on the inside. The more I remove my protection the more I have to shine my heart. Because I stopped wearing makeup, I now don't need to cover up, enhance or brighten - my confidence has never ever ever been brighter in all my life. I have not been a confident person as far back as I can remember - sure I am funny and I like to entertain, but I have never thought of myself as "pretty" and that does a number on your soul in a society where pretty is held in higher esteem than smart. I have beaten myself down time and time again because I don't look like "her".
So go ahead and say it - you like makeup, it's fun! It makes you feel good! I have heard it all and I have said it all. I know what you are saying, I was there - only but two months ago. I know that I was covering, or enhancing things I didn't like - or didn't want people to see and that's the bottom line. It's comfort - I get it, I am not living under a rock. If you can feel the same with makeup on as without that's great - but there is just no way, why would you spend the time or the money to feel the same as you do without the time or money spent? Not to mention that most of it is pure poison seeping into the largest ORGAN on our bodies - our skin...our eyes...into our nostrils up into our brains...(the cavity between the nasal passage to the brain is so thin that what you sniff becomes direct brain food "Your Brain on Nature" Eva M Selhub M.D.).
A year ago I said to someone "I will never give up my mascara. It's the one thing I love. I don't care that I am completely allergic to it and it burns my eyeballs half-way through the day so bad that I can barely see." ...Um what?!? What was it giving me that I needed that badly?
I have heard 2 people say "People are vain" over the last week. Here is the definition of vain: Having or showing an excessively high opinion of one's appearance, abilities, or worth.
I don't believe that. I don't think that people have a high or excessive opinion of themselves at all. I think that we cover up because we doubt ourselves in some way, shape of form. I believe we are conditioned to be inherently insecure.
Women are their own worst enemies. We are holding the noose. Let go, just let go.
You are good enough, you are pretty enough - even with that big old whatever you got going on today.
Shut it off. Shut all the noise off. Tell it to stop - you are the only one who can. And turn up your light - live a little louder on your channel.
It might be your face, your hair, your ass, your stomach, your big/small boobs, your vagina, your teeth, your complexion, your moles/freckles, your thighs, your calves, your hairy toes, your veiny legs, your back fat, your dark circles under your eyes, your long/short forehead, your blond eyelashes, your red/brown/blond hair.....have I hit it yet?
What the fuck is it all for?
L O V E Y O U R S E L F. We are all different, we are all unique, we are all beautiful.
I think you are all beautiful - every single one of you who sent me a picture. I loved your tired eyes, your bags, your blemishes, your pimples, your freckles. I loved it all so so so much that I was moved to tears upon seeing each new photo.
Thank you for supporting me. You are all amazing, courageous women willing to take a chance, not only on me - but on yourselves.
I had Krista White take some yoga photos of me for my blog - and I had her take one specifically in honour of my boobs. Shoulder stands have helped build a closer more intimate relationship between my boobs and my chin...here is a close up on what shoulder stand looks like from my vantage point:
(Look at that cute little roll around my tummy. That's fat, but mostly skin from having my two big beautiful babies. If I love them how can I not love what happened to my body growing them? Couldn't have had one without the other. I had seen the plastic surgeon for a tummy tuck two years ago and instead I decided that $10,000 was better spent on vacations with my family. How could I remove all evidence that I grew 17 lbs of babies in my body at once? It's the greatest war wound story of my life and I am so grateful...oh my GOD I am soooooo grateful for the "Lollies"! *Tear!
You were born perfect and you are still perfect - even if you had 6 fingers or 3 nipples.
What are you saying that is mean to or about yourself? What do you believe that just isn't true? Start to notice and then...
KISS yourself in the mirror for me, and say I love you!
With mega big boobs, and mega big gratitude - your biggest fan, Grace
P.S. I invite discussion on this of all kinds. I value your opinions and thoughts.
Photos by the AMAZING - Krista White! Check out her site, she is simply amazing and so fun to work with! She brought out my shininess!
http://Www.photographybykristawhite.com/
Thank You Grace for being so open and honest! I'm so sorry for your pain! But maybe it will be a wake up call to someone else. Bless You!
ReplyDeleteThis hit home - not sure if it's because I too, carried big healthy twins, at just 18, and it changed my body & how I feel about it drastically. Or if it's just because I'm so a woman in this world and you probably hit in in a dozen or more other ways, too.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Grace. I stopped by via Krisa's photography. I'm going to stick around & follow along because of your words!