I’ve always loved drawing. I used to do it a lot as a kid, back when I had much more free time. I think artwork of all kinds is sort of magical. I think it’s so magnificent and beautiful to be able to take an image in your head and bring it to reality.
I sometimes wish I could do that with other parts of my life. I wish I could take the image of my body that I see in my head and bring it to the mirror in real life.
I wanna be normal so bad. There are lots of parts of my body I’m ashamed of. And I’m not just talking about aesthetic and physical beauty, either. I want to function like a normal person. My legs don’t bend the right way. My digestive system is all kinds of fucked up and causes my stomach to bulge. My hair never looks the way I want it to look (or if I do manage to style it, it doesn’t last long). I have a droopy eye from an old injury. My reproductive organs don’t work properly and I experience chronic pain. Oh, let’s not forget all my mental disorders.
My body positivity is on E. My face card may never decline and people would pay thousands of dollars for the titties and ass that God gave me naturally. But it’s hard to feel cute when so much internally (and externally) is dysfunctional.
I’m still learning to really like the way I look just as I am.
A few years ago on a whim, I drew two self-portraits of my nude body. I don’t really know why I did. I guess I was trying to take something I didn’t necessarily find attractive and make it beautiful. And as I was sketching, I found that instead of changing things about myself on paper, I was enhancing them, celebrating them. I didn’t make my breasts or tummy or butt smaller. I drew them exactly how I saw them in the mirror. I didn’t ignore my folds, bulges, dimples. I took my time shading them in. I didn’t erase my hairy bits or elongate my short physique. I told the truth in my artwork. By taking the time to etch out the details of my limbs and tummy and curls, I grew to appreciate how amazing it is that my body, in all it’s trauma and pain, even exists at all. That all these pieces come together to create and support me my whole life long. But through art, I was able to see the beauty in how I’m built.
Through art, I was able to make self-love, self-acceptance, self-appreciation, and true body positivity a reality.
In the years since I drew those portraits, my body has changed. Muscles have gotten bigger but so have my stomach and hips. I’ve gotten new illness that have impacted me both inside and out. My eye droops a smidge more. Some things haven’t changed, though. My curls are still messy, my legs are still wonky, my booty and boobs still run the show. And I’m still learning to really like the way I look just as I am.
I’m not perfect (and neither is my art). Some days I still wanna be “normal.” But most days, I know that my body is beautiful in all its flaws, dysfunctions, and frustrations. It’s unique. It doesn’t have to look or behave like anybody else. My body is a work of art.
This entry was written under the prompt BEAUTY, Day 19 of the Finding the Right Words 30-Day Journaling Challenge. Follow along using the graphic above and write about whatever comes to mind with the corresponding prompt. Share with me using the tag #FTRW or email me at joliedoggett [at] substack.com.
There’s no wrong way to journal. You just gotta find the right words. Happy Writing!
Wow what a beautiful practice of self-love, acceptance, and celebration! ✨