Before we begin, I wish to say something that I will say twice, so you really hear it, and hopefully, by the time I finish with the second time through, you might actually believe it. You are beautiful precisely as you are. YOU are Beautiful, precisely as you are.
I don’t say this in the pursuit of winning points in some strange new-age fashion, I don’t say it as a way to blow a large amount of smoke up a small amount of ass, I say it because I believe it, I believe it because it’s true, and it’s true because beauty, actual, real, and honest beauty, is inherent, it’s transcendent, and it has nothing to do with how many crunches you do, carbs you avoid, diets you attempt, or any of that other extraneous nonsense that is constantly being shoved down your damn throat. Phew. That was a mouthful.
This is a short testimonial for something that consistently proves to be a very tall order. Convincing others, convincing ourselves, that we are in fact beautiful, that exactly as we are right now, we are beyond wonderful, that we are beyond worthy of praise, of adoration, of real and actual LOVE, from others, yes, but more from ourselves, is a monumental task of Sisyphean proportions. It shouldn’t be, it should come as effortless as two kindergartners that look nothing alike deciding to become friends anyway, it should come as easy as it once did, not a single care or glance given to ourselves in the mirror before we ran out the door to play. Somewhere along the way, the magazines start showing up, our eyes start resting longer on television screens with infomercials and talk shows, with commercials filled with supermodels and soap operas, somewhere along the way, we start paying attention to the unspoken discrepancy that sneaks into the world in how certain people are treated when they look a certain way. Somewhere along the way, we get it. Or at least we think we do, think we understand the nuance that wriggled its way like a parasite into our view of the world, of fairness, of “that’s just the way things are.” Somewhere, loving ourselves, our bodies, our skin, our veins, our bones, for what they are became defiant instead of default, and being kind to ourselves in the way others are kind to us seemed as distant as the last planet they demoted to lonely rock, way out there on the edge of all we call home.
The last time I posted something about how we’re perfect as we are, it was followed by a cavalcade of all the usual moronic suspects harping on me about how ‘bank robbers, rapists, hell, even fat people’ are not perfect, and by calling them that, we’re ruining them and not giving them a chance to be better than they are. What horseshit, what absolute nonsense. Striving for body positivity, for acceptance has absolutely nothing to do with bank robbery, with rape, or anything else. None of us are perfect, none of us are ever complete, ever ‘finished,’ but we can love ourselves as though we are, we can love ourselves as others love us, we can be happy with what we are, even if we do work to improve, even if there are areas we wish could be different. The point is, the changing should be the CHOICE, not the requirement, the option, not the condition for self-love. We can wake up some morning, decide to dedicate ourselves to any goal we deem worthy, we can sweat as many hours a week as we wish to sweat, if it’s on our terms, and if it makes us feel good, NOT, I repeat, NOT, if we feel like we must, we have to, in order to be some form of beautiful.
This little Signal Fire rises up from the smoke and ashes of so many fires I’ve seen lit in people I love. Truth is, unfortunately, most of those people are women, and most of them carry far more feelings of guilt, shame, apprehension, and pressure, for the way they physically look. Simply put, nothing ever feels “good enough” to them, no matter the effort they put in, the results they see in the mirror each morning. Our society has created a population of Peloton households, everyone miserably striving for some unachievable CGI ideal that the last Marvel movie planted in our brains. Garbage, this. Garbage.
Here's what I ask from you, all of you readers, be you female, male, non-binary, or anything in between, and I will ask it gently, and I will be here for any support at any point you may ever need:
Please make your only fitness and body goal, to be healthy. Please make your only barometer, how you feel, and how you feel about yourself. Please stop falling into the trap of diet-culture, lose weight fast schemes, and internet bullshit that promises you results in record time. Please stop looking at the people we see on television or in magazines as the ‘ideal’ form of the human body. First, it’s not real, second, it’s not sustainable, third, it’s NOT REAL. You’ve given enough, I promise you this, enough time, enough tears, enough stress, enough worry. Probably enough money to so many different scams if you’re like some of the people I know. Aim for health, but more, aim for true and lasting self love.
Simply, Love Yourself. Reclaim the power of choice, choosing to love the skin you’re in, and choosing at your own pace, what that looks like as far as action, as far as exercise, as far as whatever you decide to eat. Life is short, and yeah, exercising 6 days a week might prolong it a bit, but constantly aiming at some hologram of the human form will steal so much more than years. “We are here on Earth to fart around, Vonnegut once said, “don’t let anybody tell you different.”
Do what you will, but I urge you once you’ve finished reading this, or hearing me read it to you, to waltz into your bathroom, strip it all off, and point out to yourself all the little magic pieces you forgot to notice. Treasure the lines that came from stretching for growth, yours, or the life you carried. Praise the legs that walk you up mountains, over rivers, across sandy beaches, praise them for all the times they’ve carried you to be precisely where you are. Listen to your heart, thank it for its beating, strong, steady, despite a world that tries its best to silence it. You are more than, and beyond enough. I promise. Now, you promise too.
We just as we are,
more than and beyond enough,
perfect without change.
Why do we think we need to be perfect to be loved? WTH? How toxic? We don’t think that about our kids,….so why ourselves , or our friends, neighbors, hell especially strangers we are so fond of judging.
Thanks for this Tyler!
I wonder of this all the time, why we're so damn vicious to ourselves. It breaks my heart.
Your scars are your STORY. In my opinion, in my deepest thoughts to myself, they are a
piece and a part of who you are. 💜💜
The story itself! We as humans give in to (talking to myself here, as well) the "perfect" appearance, body, clothes, style, so much more.. we are ALL fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalms 139:14)🙌🏼❤. Some of the imperfections you have may hold a hard time in your life, but please hear me: You are so much brighter and more beautiful than you even know! So, SHINE bright.🙂 💫💜
So beautifully put. I love the imperfections. LOVE LOVE.
I can’t help but notice the way these topics consistently coincide with observations in my life. My daughter sent me a group photo last night of her with her boyfriend and his family, who she is just getting to know. She once struggled very much with body image and was anorexic for a time. It’s been years and she made it through that phase. When she started dating this man, he made comments along the lines of “I’m going to fatten you up, and I love big thighs.” I remember her surprise when she told me this, and how she proudly stated that she was comfortable where she was. That she’d went through hell and came back. It was hard work for her to achieve a healthy weight. All of the women in the group photo, including my daughter were wearing bathing suits, and all of them except my daughter would be considered obese. They were all smiling and it looked very authentic. It looked like a family that was truly comfortable in their skin. It’s not a surprise to me that my daughter attracted a man that would offer her reflection in this way. Much of what is talked about in culture is a thing. Much of it is not. We make it so. It all comes down to self. And it’s all personal. We eventually get to a place where if it’s important enough for ourselves, regardless of what society says, we do the thing. We make the change. We live in a world where suffering is available as an experience and much of what we spend our time doing is figuring out how to alleviate it. The rest is trying to survive in a system that doesn’t seem fair. Two halves of a brain, and it’s all history. We make much ado about everything and the earth, she just spins. Happy Independence Day everyone. Much Love xo
I Love this story, and I love that she's doing so much better. What an absolutely beautiful relief. Thank you for this sharing.
Hey Tyler, It took me a couple of day to gather my thoughts, but first I want to thank you. Thank you for your words, your time, and your Sunday Newsletter. My boyfriend and I have started this little tradition about 4 or 5 months ago where every Sunday morning while coffee is being poured or breakfast just eaten, I read aloud your Sunday newsletter to him. It usually ends up turning into a conversation we then have or a silent acknowledgement in the way your words speak to us and our truth. Being it the holiday weekend and away from our cell phones camping, I didn’t read the newsletter
until our car ride home yesterday and this is the first newsletter that brought me to tears. It caught me off guard, but spoke to the ways I have been feeling about my body, my looks, and the worth that is tied to them. I have been overweight my entire life and have always had this innate sense that I needed to change. It has imbedded itself within our culture and it has hit me harder this past year because I have gained weight back that I had previously lost. This has sent me into a bit of a tailspin for the past year or so, being obsessed with working out, with eating right, with putting the most amount of effort in I possibly can so I can accept myself, so I can be as beautiful as I think others deserve of me. Your words are so alike to the ones people I love (including my boyfriend) tell me all the time, but the way you said “You’ve given enough… enough time, enough tears, enough stress, enough worry…” That’s where I broke, because I have spent the better part of my time agonizing and crying over whether what I’m doing is right, is good, will allow me to get to the point where I have done enough to start loving myself again. But, I need to let that idea go. I need to do what you spoke of and figure out what is coming from me and what I think I “have” to do. Once again, thank you. I can’t wait till Sunday!
You have no idea what it means to me to hear things like this...to think I am part of some beautiful morning routine, what an amazing thing. For the rest of this, thank you even more. You are stunning, beautiful, and perfect as you are, and I am so glad you have those that are helping you see that. Please don't be discouraged when you feel like you're trying too hard, caring too much, working too hard, to change, to "improve." We're allowed to be a million things at once, and that is ok. We love you, you are loved, and I hope you continue to fall deeper into that love with yourself, too.