Loving Myself Without Limits

Why is it that as African-American women our own minds, the media, some of our men and anyone else...

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Why is it that as African-American women our own minds, the media, some of our men and anyone else who doesn’t grasp the indescribable depth of our divinely inspired beauty often try to tell us otherwise?

I'll be the first to say there were times in my life when I looked in the mirror and didn't like what looked back at me. I never reached the point of not loving who I saw, but liking what I saw was a song of a completely different tune. Those things that jiggle, wiggle, drop, flop, and flubber have once been a pain in my, well, I won't even say where, especially since that’s one of my areas of concern. However, even with the jiggle, wiggle, drop, flop and flubber, I believe I’m beautiful. We all are.

I’m a 42-year-old southern woman born and bred from a family known for its regal height garnered from my father’s bloodline and voluptuous hips compliments of my mother’s genetics. The funny thing is, for most of my life I’ve not had to fight the weight battle. Weight gain wasn’t always my burden to bear. Gaining weight was once my struggle. I was affectionately called things like "Skinny Minny," "Too Tall Jones" (my last name was Scott, not Jones, by the way), and the ever-so-popular "Slim." While enrolled in college at the University of Alabama, I even went to the Russell Student Health Center to see a physician to tell me how to gain weight. For a year or so I carried around peanuts and other treats to help me pack on the pounds. Unfortunately, It worked. Where was hindsight when I needed it? Get it? HINDsight?

Fast forward one decade out of college and I became sick with a potentially fatal thyroid disease that sent me to the hospital for quite a while and could have sent me to Heaven much faster than I wanted to arrive. Thankfully it didn’t. Instead as a parting gift, it dropped off about 50 pounds that have been hanging on to me in some form or another for far too long. Since that time, I had battles with other illnesses, all of which I’ve thankfully overcome, but if you’re thinking they left me without leaving something with me you’re sadly mistaken. You guessed it, they left pounds.

With that said, I know both sides of the weight debate, and still I love me. The thicker Angela is just as beautiful as the thinner me. Even on those days when I see flubber before fabulousness I keep looking, and looking, and looking some more until all of the beauty of this 5’9, 185 pound frame shines through from the inside out and back in.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m all about team healthy. I believe in being the best possible me I can be, and I shall. But in that process and along that path, I love every single component of me and embrace where each derived. Every part of me belongs to someone before me and that is alright with me. Now when I look in the mirror I don't focus on the bags under my eyes or the ample derriere that are trademarks of my relatives the Walkers. I don't focus on the thinning hair or soft, wrinkly fingers compliments of my relatives the Johnsons. I don't focus on my round (and flared when I’m angry) Scott nose, or my larger head, long legs and full lips. I don’t even let my thighs taunt me as they insist on talking while I’m walking. I simply smile through my Walker eyes, shake the Johnson hair I still have (or whatever hair I have purchased), hold that Scott head high and sashay my long legs and grown woman hips right on about my business. I choose to focus on the fact that all of that is what makes me and what makes me is what makes me all of that!

Photo: Deposit Photos

Angela Moore has sported many hats in her lifetime. She’s a former broadcast anchor/reporter/producer, a trained motivational speaker, fundraiser and marketing/PR expert. She spent nine years as a pastor’s wife working in full-time ministry, where a majority of her time was spent empowering women and girls. Reach Angela Moore at amazingkreations2@gmail.com

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