Your mat will never body shame you

Body shame.  We were all taught it. We were taught to hold on to deep-seated shame about how our bodies look, feel, and sound.  

Body shame doesn’t give a shit about gender, sexuality, or socioeconomic status. It leaves dark, deep wounds from being criticized or humiliated about looks, weight, and size. I have very clear memories of being called thunder thighs in the 3rd grade. Or being catcalled at twelve when leaving the ice skating rink in my leotard and tights. Or being told how good my ass looks in my jeans, at 49 years old, while pumping gas at a Kwik Trip. We all have stories of our bodies being objectified, teased, and sexualized. That shit sticks to you.

These experiences led to deep-seated negative self-talk: 

“I can’t wear that; I look fat.” 

“Will anybody love this ugly fat girl?” 

“I’m already fat, so it doesn’t matter. Who the fuck cares?” 

During my tween years, I wore the T-shirt over the bathing suit at swim parties. As a young adult, I began yo-yo dieting, depriving myself of food, and I began exercising excessively to the point of injury. Just yesterday, I poked, pinched, wiggled, and examined my body in the mirror, looking at my “flaws”. I told myself I need a new bathing suit because of the rolls in my back. I told myself my body was gross because I could see where the fat had collected on my tummy. 

What the hell?! This thought process is fucked up. Do I ever feel the strength of my body? Do I practice compassion, and am I grateful for what my body can do? The answer, when I am on my mat. 

When I am on my yoga mat, matching breath to movement, those negative thoughts about my body go quiet. My focus becomes the sensations in my body, finding my edge of discomfort and releasing the tension in my body. I go inward and take risks to see what my body can do on the mat at this particular moment. Yes, there are times when I fall over or down. And what I realized over the years is that everyone else in the class is focused on their practice. Nobody is watching me. I am free to do what I want on my mat. I do what my body needs to do, and sometimes my body just wants to lie in shavasana. At the end of class, as I roll out my mat, I notice the calmness in my body. I walk feeling a little taller and more relaxed—getting high off the power of my own breath. My fucks to give about my body are not so loud after a practice. 

There are so many different ways to move your body and connect to your breath. I have been practicing yoga, on and off, for three decades. My body has changed over the last thirty years; therefore, my practice has had to change. But the sensations have not. How my body feels and how I feel about my body after a yoga practice are consistent. 

I have learned that the negative voice in my head is lying to me and my body is resilient. 

And when that voice gets too loud, or I begin to think negative thoughts about my body, my mat is waiting patiently for me.

-Tracy Warnecke