loving your body to health and fitness:
chapter three
by byron ballard

Loving Your Butt. No, really, I mean it.

You can’t tell from my writing, but I have an exceptionally perfect nose. No, really, I do. There was a boy in high school who said he’d marry the first woman he met with a perfect nose and perfect toes. My tree-climbing, summer-barefoot, crooked long toes would not pass muster and, alas, Sammy married another. But even he admitted the nose was ideal. Not too long, not too short, just right. The kind of nose people spend thousands of dollars to achieve.

But do I appreciate it? Probably not. It holds up my glasses, gets clogged during pollen season, sunburns easily. My perfect nose—I hardly notice it, unless it’s causing problems.

My point in all this nose reverie is that it’s not usually the perfect part that we are drawn to. It’s a part or an expression or a gesture that reconnects us with our deep selves. I love my knobby knees, scarred though they are, because they look like my grandmother’s. I love the upper arm sag—though I confess I’m working with weights to minimize it—because it reminds me of sleeveless polyester shells and cousin Evie’s arms.

You’ve found some body parts you love—some of you have found several. Excellent. What is it exactly you love about those parts? Are they perfect? Acceptable in the culture? Do those juicy calves always get you noticed—favorably? I promise we won’t do a lot of head-focused analyzing but we will do a little search for this because it’s important in how we view all the “parts” and how we re-member ourselves into a whole, vibrant person.

Since this journey began in the pages of WNC Woman, I’ve had so many positive responses to this Willendorf adventure that I want to share a few of them. Some of you have given me some fairly intimate details about your bodies—er, thanks. I, in turn, have been impossibly cheerful about some of your parts—I hope you’ll all endure my enthusiasm with good grace and patience. Poor Julie was greeted with “What’s your part, girl?” on several occasions. Hands, she decided, and they really are beautiful.

My old friend Sandy, who has recently returned to my life after a decade-long absence, carefully explained that she thought it was important to love herself from the inside out. I heartily concurred but badgered her for a part. Just one. Something she felt was extraordinary and lovely, something she could show off. Sandy thought hard about it and decided she loves her eyes. And you know what this darling girl did? She arranged to get new glasses so her eyes could do their job a little more easily. Good, sensible.

But this is the part I love—she also started messing around with make-up: eye shadow, mascara, brow pencil. The next time I saw her she was quite pleased with herself. She wasn’t doing this because she saw it in a magazine or because she wanted a man to notice her (though both of these may also be true). She did it because she found a body part that she loved without reservation and once she fell in love, she wanted to show it off. She did the healthy thing—new spectacles. But she also did the fun thing—make-up. Atta girl!

Now that you’ve done the right thing and claimed a portion that is exquisite, powerful, unique, I want more from you. You knew that was coming, didn’t you? I want you to apply this sense of unparalled devotion to other special parts. Give yourself carte blanche to love all the great, good, pretty good and okay parts of your splendid body.

Spend a week doing that—nodding to yourself in mirrors as you recognize the investment you’ve made in all these grand parts. Then I want you to take a part—for me, I will confess, it’s my large, bodacious, Hottentot butt—that you find difficult to acknowledge, much less love. You picked out a favorite part. Now I want you to rise up to the challenge of the difficult bits. You can do this, I know you can. We’ll do this hard part together. It’ll surprise you. I know it surprised me.

As always, if you want to respond or have a question, email me at ballard@ceres-wnc.org.

Byron Ballard is an Asheville native, a playwright, a Witch (and a Wiccan priestess!) and a mom. When she’s not exercising and making endless large bowls of salad, she also enjoys hiking, gardening and traveling. She is one of the partners in Ancient Journeys and sings with the Greenwood Consort. Whew! She also works with a gaggle of gentlefolk at Accent on Books.
[ ballard@ceres-wnc.org ]