Updated: August 20, 2015
Originally Published: April 17, 2015
My partner adores my appearance. If you were to ask him to describe me, he would mention my thick, shimmering blonde hair that cascades in gentle waves. He would insist that I don’t require makeup; my striking blue eyes hold enough intrigue and playfulness to illuminate my face. He is particularly enamored with my lips, which he describes as a cherry red, perfectly shaped like Cupid’s bow.
He sees my waist as slender, and while he acknowledges that my belly has a soft curve, he considers it charming. My breasts are full and balanced, aligning beautifully with my hips. My legs are long and gracefully transition to delicate ankles, and my slim feet look lovely in either flats or heels. I am curvaceous. I am supple.
He can’t seem to get enough of me. He appreciates my shapely figure, how my curves fit perfectly in his embrace, and the way my hair curls around his face during a kiss. He loves watching me walk away, and I relish feeling his gaze on me.
His perception of me is so captivating that I start to believe it. When he tells me I am beautiful, I feel invincible. I am fierce. I am empowered. I am a woman. My movements are graceful as I view myself through his eyes. My smile is sincere, and when I laugh, my joyful lines become apparent. My hips sway softly, and my bosom stands proudly. The contours of my body are gentle; the curve of my shoulder effortlessly blends with the strength of my arms, shaped by the years of nurturing our children.
It often surprises me when I catch my reflection in a mirror, as I anticipate seeing the woman my partner admires. Instead, the person staring back at me feels disconnected from the ideal he describes. I grapple with where the discrepancy lies: is it in his perception, or my own?
The reflection can be painful, leaving me with an ache in my chest and a sense of something akin to shame—not precisely shame, but the sinking feeling that arises when you let someone you treasure down. Like the time I accidentally broke my mother’s cherished china serving tray, a family heirloom. I remember the moment she fell to the floor, overwhelmed by the shards of her treasured possession. Her gasp echoed my own feelings of guilt; I had disappointed her.
As an adult, that same rush of emotion grips me when I pass a mirror. The image I see is a pale shadow of the enchantress I envision. My body feels like a betrayal.
I don’t see a vibrant force of nature; I see an ordinary suburban mother. My hair, while nice, feels heavy and lays flat against my scalp. Its color has dulled to a more brownish hue thanks to the hormonal changes from pregnancy. My eyes, although a lovely cornflower blue, are framed by light lashes that vanish without mascara. My cheeks are rosy but full, and my lips, often chapped, suffer from neglect. My skin is average and beginning to show signs of aging, with a deep crease between my brows.
I am more than curvy; I am more than voluptuous. My waist is hidden beneath lingering baby weight, which spills over my lap when I sit. My belly bears silvery scars, reminders of the stretching it endured during pregnancy, as well as a mark from a surgery that was crucial to my children’s survival. My breasts, though full, sag under the weight of having nursed three little ones. My legs are long but plump, and my thighs brush together with every step. I never wear high heels.
Reconciling the reality of my body with my partner’s ideal is a daily struggle. Yet, I admire the woman he loves; she is the person I aspire to be. I choose to embrace the reflection I see in my partner’s eyes, dismissing the one in the mirror.
And that realization ignites my fierceness.
For more insights on home insemination, you can visit Home Insemination Kit. Additionally, for expert opinions on fertility, check out Self Magazine’s interview with Dr. Alex Thompson. For excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination, look at Cleveland Clinic’s guide on IUI.
In summary, the disconnect between how I view myself and how my partner perceives me can be disheartening. Yet, choosing to embrace his admiration empowers me to redefine my self-image.