Real Self Care: What's your body's story?

If my body could tell you it's story, it would go a li'l something like this: So, if you didn't know already, she digs on me.

She likes how I curve at her hip, she likes how I roll her flesh into a chubby buddha belly, she likes how pretty I look with ink splashed on me, she likes how I rock an accessory. Most of all, she likes that she can reside in me, without apology.

You see, I've always been a 'big girl' body, but for the most part of her residence in it, she's made apologies for it. She's felt like we were taking up too much space, that there was too much of us, and for the longest time, she saw herself as a completely separate entity from me. Our relationship sucked.

It's true. My body and I simply didn't get along.

That was BY. Before Yoga. Enter Yoga, stage left in all it's freakin' awesomeness as the game changer. The life enhancer.

Nine months ago, I went to my first yoga class. I wasn't entirely convinced. I mean, yoga wasn’t for the likes of me. I was a size 18, I was not a fan o’ Lycra and there was nothing even remotely om-like about me.

Nine months later, I'm still a size 18, I still despise Lycra, but damn, g-friend can most definitely get her 'omm' on.

I'd mistakenly been under the impression that yoga-doing people were long and bendy and really rather glorious. I am not, so I kept my distance from all things bendy-wendy. I figured that when I dropped a few dress sizes, I might join a class.

But do you know what? You should NEVER wait ’til you’ve dropped a dress size to do anything.

I cried in that first class.

I cried because I felt my body move in deliciously different  new ways. I opened up my hips – the beau was all kinds o’ happy ’bout that – I stretched, I breathed and I stretched some more. I can’t pretend it was entirely beautiful and serene as my body experienced positions it’d never found itself in – well, not whilst sober anyway – and I was petrified the whole time that I might fart. But despite that, and despite the years of 'work' I'd done on myself regarding self-care and self-love, it was the first time my body and I had properly 'hooked up'.

Yoga is now our hang time together, a time for us to get honest and be real with each other.

It has cracked me open from the inside out. Finally, after 33 years, I’m no longer trying to tell my body what to do, I’m engaging in some seriously ecstatic free flow with it and feeling what it needs. It’s delicious, it’s emotional, it’s right and I bloody love it.

Yoga is nothing to do with size, and everything to do with being real. If you’re ready to get to know yourself, and let your body lead you in letting you know what it really needs, do it. Do it now. I arrive at the mat open honest, raw and real and we enter into a divine dance together. We explore each other, rub up against boundaries and resistance and we pulse, together. Yoga has returned me to my body, it's the only one I've got this time round so it makes total sense that I find delicious ways to love it. Kissing it from the inside and allowing it to be pleasured through movement is my show o' devotion.

(This is it. Ecstatic free flow yoga. This is the life changer, the game changer, with my teacher, who I love and adore, Guruji - awesomeness x 1000000.)

What relationship do you have with your body? How do you do to show your body love? If your body could tell it's story what would it say?

This post is part of the fabulous Mara Glatzel & Tamarisk Saunders-Davies‘ Perfectly Imperfect Project: Real Self-Care. To read all the inspiring posts in this series, please click here.

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