The nickname from hell

The female body can do crazy things!

the nickname from hell

If you want to embrace change you often need to let go of something first.

Kind of like putting down what you’re already holding – so that you can pick up something new.

For example…

I was given a nickname in my 20s.

This was exciting, because my whole childhood I’d wanted a nickname. Something sharp and snappy that summed up my personality in a crisp syllable or two.

Except that the nickname I finally got was ‘shit tits’.

Now, I’ve always been pretty flat chested. I was a late/never bloomer.

As a teenager I was far too busy mountain biking, cliff jumping or chasing yellow balls around a tennis court to be too bothered about my boobs.

Oh to grow up before social media…

But looking back I think that part of me rejected being a woman. Like it held me back from running faster, jumping higher, pushing harder. I’d watch the guys play and think - damn I wish I could do that!

I realise now that I actually had a deep-seated loathing for my female-ness. This was probably born out of getting my periods super late at 16 just when I’d started to worry there was something wrong with me… only to have that fear confirmed that there was definitely something wrong with me when my periods finally arrived with such a vengeance that they’d leave me bleeding heavily for two weeks straight and needing double tampons just to get on a volleyball court.

So my knee jerk reaction to my perceived lack of femininity was kind of like the indignation you dish out to a date who’s turned you down.

Fine, I didn’t even want you anyway.

But when my mate-not-mate lumped me with my ‘shit tits’ nickname - I can’t even remember how it started, just that it was only half in jest - it stung deep.

And it held fast.

It wasn’t until years later, when my now-husband and I were watching a movie in which a woman was sitting topless on a bed, that I started to think differently. She had these fantastic perky little boobs. My husband hit the pause button and said - that’s what you’re like babe.

And my mind exploded. All this time I thought I was deficient, you’re telling me my body is actually beautiful? And feminine? (He even took a pic of me to prove it.)

The joke was on me though, because just when I started to love my body, two years later I fell pregnant and my itty bitties grew into big kahunas the size of my baby’s head.

Then these shit tits single-handedly - double breastedly? - kept two small humans alive for three years.

(If I’d known where my old mate lived, I’d have marched right up to his front door and blasted him with a double spray of hand-expressed magic, lol.)

But motherhood made me decide that big boobs weren’t for me. And my body kindly obliged and deflated them back to even smaller than pre-baby levels but with extra layers of skin so they’re now like the old, wrinkly balloons you see lying around the house the week after a birthday party.

Anyway.

I don’t hold any resentment towards my pal, wherever he may be now. (I heard he became a real estate agent.)

Because that taunt - and the negative belief I held about my body all those years - has been my invitation to grow.

I’m now on a journey to let go of that negative belief and embrace my body - and my femininity - even if I don’t look like the women in my socials feed.

I’m learning how to stand tall, chest proud. (Jon’s also helped me with this!)

I’m learning how to embrace self-care, listen to the cycles of my body, and be grateful for everything it’s given me.

And I’m learning how to laugh at it all. Even the fact that I can buy my bras from the kids section at Kmart. Lol.

But I’m also excited to discover how fast I can run.

So my question for you is - 

What can you let go of?

And what are you going to pick up instead?