My Husband Made Me Feel Like a Work of Art

The best body compliment I've ever received is when my husband saw me relaxing in the bathtub. He looked over at me admiringly and compared me to a Botticelli painting.

I'm an art history minor. When he compared me to a Botticelli painting, outwardly I played it cool; inside, I swooned. When I think of modern beauty, my mind wanders to social media--movie stars, airbrushed photos, face and body apps to "improve" our aesthetic. I remember reading the more symmetrical, the more beautiful we find someone. Although, that is being debunked.

***

I was on the north side of 40 years old and I soaked in his words. For a brief moment, I saw my body through his eyes, and I finally saw beauty in my hips, my rotund belly, my mismatched breasts — even if just for a fleeting moment.

The journey to loving my body has been long. Throughout my life, I have been underweight and overweight. As a child, I was very thin. Friends’ parents would often say, “You eat like a bird and we’re worried you might fly away.” I would try to shrug it off, but it bothered me that I didn’t look how others thought I should.

As a grown woman, I am heavier through my hips than I am through my breasts. I don’t have the coveted hourglass shape displayed on the female body type charts. Instead, my body most resembles a juicy pear, though I've grown to see in my body the soft curves of an hourglass with a smaller top and wider bottom.

Why are women comparing our bodies to fruit and hourglasses anyway? Why is the hourglass shape considered the ideal? Can we please modify our lens to see an endless amount of beauty in all shapes and sizes?

My breasts are asymmetrical and didn’t fill into a fuller cup size until I was in my 20s. When I met my partner I wished I weighed more. I went to the nutritionist at my college health center to ask how to put on weight. She didn't get it but took me through the appointment anyway. She gave me the impression she did this because she had to.

I didn’t tell her, but what I wanted was to gain weight, specifically in my breasts. I wanted that coveted hourglass shape. I believed if my boobs were big enough, I'd find love. In my 20s, I thought if only my boobs were bigger and symmetrical, my life would become perfect. I wanted to turn heads when I walked into a room. I didn’t like being called "Toothpick" when I was a kid. It reminded me of my flat chest and for a long time, I thought I'd never be attractive.

I'm in my 40s now and over the past several years, I've come to see beauty in all body sizes and shapes, in all humans.

***

Why was I allowing others to dictate whether or not I'm attractive? Why had this taken such a toll on my self-esteem? Unfortunately, these feelings are common to American women.

Kendra Cherry explains in Verywellmind that there is pretty much one very narrow American standard of cultural beauty for breasts, specifically. Loving our breasts seems to be the last frontier of body positivity. In her post, she links to Laura Dodsworth’s Bare Reality Project, which shows images of all shapes, sizes, and colors of breasts. I found these images both reassuring and fascinating (nudity ahead).

Discussing and celebrating our unique bodies is a huge step in the right direction for a more body-positive culture.

Shortly after I moved in with my partner — I was 23 years old — I confessed to him I was worried he didn’t find me attractive because of my breast asymmetry. Do you know what he said to me?

Everyone is asymmetrical to some degree. I get the best of both worlds. And, I love all of you and all of your body.

I swooned inwardly but wondered still if he was telling the truth. It was a step toward letting go of the embarrassment of my less-than-perfect physique.

This comment eventually led to me seeing my own beauty in my 40s.

***

We got married when I was 24 years old. I was mostly happy with my body. I was able to see myself as an attractive person; I trusted my husband did too. He married me, after all. I still found myself seeing beauty through the eyes of cultural standards instead of through my own heart and mind.

At 29 we had our first child and at 32, we had our second child. After having 2 kids, and entering my fourth decade I noticed my breasts pointing towards the floor. Now, they weren’t only asymmetrical, but they were droopy, too! Of course, the smaller one was perkier, which made me appreciate it more than I had before. One of the perks of aging is knowing what to appreciate, right?!

I also had one c-section scar. I began noticing the appearance of stretch marks and varicose veins. What?! And, as I dropped my pregnancy weight I noticed my belly not flattening out. There was loose skin where the babies had been taking up room. My once perfect belly button was stretched out of shape forever. I had taken its perfection for granted pre-pregnancy. And, now I put on weight very easily.

When I was a little girl, I remember looking at my mom’s unshaved armpits and pot-belly (her words) and feeling like I was seeing something that should be hidden from view. That’s because our culture had, and has, a certain image of an ideal body that is in the appropriate-to-display category and a whole array of bodies that are in the inappropriate-to-display category.

Heaven forbid a woman has hairy legs, hairy armpits, a pot-belly, stretch marks, neck wrinkles, etc. That’s why there’s a whole anti-aging industry raking in big bucks in America.

The truth is my mom was, and is, beautiful. I was, and am, beautiful.

We are all beautiful. And, in reality, our bodies come in an array of different shapes, sizes, and colors. This variety makes the world a more beautiful and inherently interesting place to live.

***

Aging gracefully in America isn't easy. What does it even mean? To look younger than I am? I’d like to look good as I age, but I would also like to celebrate my aging without hiding it behind the cultural ideal that I should continuously chase and display a younger version of myself.

I decided a couple of years ago to quit dyeing my hair, which I had done for fun since 8th grade. But, no, I did not want to dye my hair to cover up my gray. I did not want to perpetuate the very American illusion that we never grow old. I’m not saying others shouldn’t dye their hair. I am saying this decision has helped me embrace that yes, I am aging.

I am aging AND I feel more beautiful than I did in my 20s. I'm softer, curvier, and much better at communicating. I enjoy the pleasure my body is capable of receiving and producing. I am thankful for my body. I want you to know at age 43 I feel beautiful and sexy.

I am proud of my age and my gray hair. I feel and see my beauty.

***

This weekend, I donned my new tank top sans bra and asked my husband what he thought. “That’s not like the other one,” he said.

“You mean the one with the shelf bra?” I asked, annoyed.

He mumbled something about support.

We both knew he’d gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. I tried to make light of the comment and he reminded me how much he loves me and my breasts.

His comment reminded me my breasts droop. And, I made a bit of a fuss about it. When a perceived “flaw” is noticed it’s hard not to feel a bit self-conscious.

I know I’m still beautiful and lovable. We’re all beautiful and loveable. And, we don’t have anything to hide. How are we going to allow our partners, ourselves, to love our bodies if we don’t love our bodies?

I wish I hadn’t been so embarrassed when I was a young woman by my “imperfect” breasts, to the point that I wondered which guy would no longer date me because of my lack of symmetry. I hope we are moving towards a more accepting and body-positive culture.

The trend for body positivity is a great pivot away from these impossible cultural standards that made me feel like I had to fit into the perfect-body-box when I was a young woman.

***

Let’s be real though — it’s hard not to compare ourselves to the picture-perfect images of women being constantly shown on television, the internet, billboards, everywhere.

I wonder if you’ll join me on my mission to find beauty across a wide spectrum? Beauty in different skin colors, body sizes, facial features, heights, and personalities. Beauty in our whole selves, stretched skin, cellulite, stretch marks, pot bellies, saggy breasts, and all. In loving ourselves just the way we are.

Let’s remember as our bodies age, we grow the beauty of wisdom and emotional growth.

I hope you already see your beauty. I hope you have been, or will be, compared to an artist's beautiful renderings, and feel your beauty glowing within and emanating outward.

You are a work of art. We all are.

***

Aimée Gramblin is a personal essayist, memoir writer, and deep thinker. The original version of this story was first published on Medium on June 18, 2020. Find more of Aimée's writing here.