My Birthday Suit (and more)

Eye-Opening Moments are real-life stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. In this episode you will hear about My Birthday Suit & Half My Age.

Website: https://inspiremereads.com
Books: https://amazon.com/author/emily-kay-tan.2021_

Chapters

• 0:21 Introduction
• 1:01 My Birthday Suit
• 8:18 Half My Age
• 19:52 Key Takeaways

Transcript

Hello and welcome to episode #203 of Eye-Opening Moments where you’ll hear stories of adversity, encounters, and perspectives intertwined. They are moments that can lift your spirits, give you some food for thought, or move you. For the introspective mind that likes to reflect, discover, and find solutions or meaning in a complex life, this is for you. I’m your host Emily Kay Tan. In this episode, you will hear about My Birthday Suit & Half My Age.

My Birthday Suit

Assignment: Take off your clothes and look at your nude body in the mirror. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to do my personal development class homework, but I signed up, intending to do something about my health and fitness. I take off my clothes to shower daily, but tell me to look at my whole body in the mirror? No, thank you. I thought about it for a few days, and each time I did, I said I would do it soon, but I was still reluctant to do it. The uneasy and uncomfortable feeling got worse each day. I shook my head. I needed to do something I did not want to do. It was only my first task in the class, and I was already ready to quit. It was too difficult for me to do. I didn’t want to look at my own body. Why? The answer was disturbing.

I had been overweight for a number of years and knew it. My old clothes hadn’t fit for a while. I didn’t eat much, but my weight kept piling up. I blamed it on the slowing metabolism as I age. I blamed it on eating after seven at night because I didn’t get off of work until eight-thirty. I blamed it on genetics. I ran out of excuses and did not know what I could do to change the situation, so I signed up for a course to fix the problem. This class was not a diet plan or a food and exercise course. The focus was on the mind. After all, what or how we think affects what we do.

It was just another day when I took off my clothes to shower. I had the chance to look in the mirror and do my assignment, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to look at my fat, ugly body. My breasts started sagging, my tummy turned into a muffin top, and my legs were like tree stumps. I knew what I looked like and didn’t need the mirror to tell me. Please don’t make me look! The next day, I quickly glanced at myself in the mirror to see my upper body with sagging breasts and fat hanging all over with chunky arms. I glanced because I did not want to look at something unappealing. I didn’t want to look because I knew I wouldn’t like what I saw in the mirror. If I looked, I would have to face myself; I would have to face that I did not like what my body looked like. I didn’t like what my body looked like, but did I also not like me? My body is a part of me; how can I separate it from me?

Two days before the assignment was due, I forced myself to look at my naked body. It was as I thought. I was thoroughly disgusted with what I saw. How did I allow my body to get this bad? It was not always like this. I read that my sagging breasts couldn’t be avoided as I age, but I could do a few exercises to slow the drooping. The suggested exercises were not hard to do, so I started doing them. What could I do about all the globs of fat? I exercised to no avail. I ate less to no avail. I concluded that I had gotten this way because I had given up on my body. It didn’t do what I wanted it to do. My skin had spots of little scars from insect bites and other places or dots that I don’t know how they appeared without my permission. Living in a warm climate and aging didn’t help. The age spots on my face were the most annoying. They appeared over a decade ago. I had laser treatment that was supposed to rid me of them, but they reappeared, and I no longer believe in such treatments. Looking at my naked body in the mirror, I was confronting myself. I faced looking at what I didn’t like.  

Why didn’t I look at my body more often when I used to have perky breasts, a flat stomach, and smooth skin? Why didn’t I appreciate the me that used to be skinny? Now that I have a body I don’t like having or looking at, what am I going to do about it, or will I do anything about it? I tried different things in the past, and a few worked to a degree, but I didn’t keep up. Why does having an appealing body need to take so much work?!

I asked myself again, how did I get this way? I had given up trying. Worse, I had given up caring about how I looked. But as I age, I begin to worry about my health. What will I do if I can’t take care of myself? What will I do if something happens to me? I have no family that cares, and I haven’t seen them in decades. I have but a few friends but I cannot burden them. What will become of me? 

Stop! The angel in me said stop beating yourself up! You have legs that help you get from place to place; you have hands that allow you to write, hold, carry, hug, and do many other things. You have a heart that is pumping blood to give you life. Stop complaining and criticizing the body that gives you all the necessary functions!

My body may not be the ideal body I want. Even when I was skinny and shapely, I was not very satisfied with it. Advertisements and other people subtly told me that I didn’t have that beautiful body, and I wanted it. The result is a poor self-image. Faced with a mirror, I want to look away. Even without a mirror, how can I run away from myself? I can’t. And I shouldn’t. Who could love me more? Who could help me walk, feel, smell, taste, touch, and see all I could? Only my body and I can do the job. My body and I have all the functions operating properly for me.

Further, to ensure that it works properly for me for a very long time, I shall take better care of it by drinking lots of water, exercising, eating healthy foods, and more. I also need to pamper it with hot or cold showers, get massages, and exfoliate it. Thank you, Body, for doing everything to care for me. I know you get tired, worn out, and need repairs; I must take care of you, too. Look at your birthday suit, love it, take care of it, and it will serve you well.

Half My Age 

“Take your current age, divide it by two, and you get half your age. Tell me, what was happening with you then?” asked Garrett. “That was like a lifetime ago,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it, but I began to ponder and reflect. What is the same? What is different? I am scared but curious to delve in to find the answers. Has much changed, or has little changed? Which age is better? Could I discover anything new about me that I didn’t already know about?

At thirty, I thought I had arrived. I got married. I thought I did all the right things, normal or average things I should do: go to school, graduate, get a job, and get married. Next would be to have children like many people do. I was happy to follow the path because it would say that I was a normal human being, and I did not want to be an outcast like I was in my family.

I also considered myself successful in marrying a family man with a professional job, a house, three cars, and a loving family. My in-laws lived next door, which I was dead set against when we got engaged, but eventually settled with it. As it turned out, Hubby would pick me up from work, and as soon as we arrived home, my mother-in-law would dash out with a cooked dinner we could eat immediately or groceries for us to cook our own dinner. She was spoiling us, but I didn’t appreciate it then. I was an independent girl who wanted to choose what she wanted to eat for dinner and didn’t want to be served like I couldn’t take care of myself. Though it cramped my style a bit, I married into a family that welcomed me. My mother-in-law spoiled me and treated me more like a daughter, a member of a family, than my biological mother ever did, and I was grateful for that. I didn’t feel the warmth of a family until I married into my husband’s family.

Life was physically comfortable, and my in-laws were good to me, but something wasn’t right. My husband was not my best friend. I knew that before getting married, but I settled. He provided and made me feel like a priority, which was important to me. However, soon after marriage, I discovered how anal and controlling he was. Walking on eggshells every day was hard to bear; I never knew when he would explode and scream at me for two hours. I never knew I would have a husband who would demean me and bring me to tears. I endured in misery.

Marriage marked thirty. It was supposed to be a happily ever after, but it turned out to be a nightmare where I was emotionally bruised many times. I never imagined married life would be horrible for me, and I never fathomed divorce in the future. I had opened my eyes wide to see who I would marry, and I had never thought a person could be so different after marriage. 

Hubby was so kind and thoughtful when we were dating. After we married, he seemed to change overnight into someone I did not know. I did not know the extent of his demand for perfectionism. I cooked, cleaned, and did the bills, but he wanted me to mow the lawn, water the fruit trees, and wash the cars with him, too. I did not know how anal and controlling he was. I did not think I needed permission to invite friends over to our house. I didn’t know I needed permission to buy that occasional dress I wanted to buy. I didn’t think I needed permission to go out with my gal pals. All the unwritten rules in this marriage were new to me. For a freedom lover who enjoyed much freedom before marriage, it was hard to bear. I thought I would live happily ever after, but life did not turn out the way I envisioned.

The only place of solace amid the façade of a happy marriage was when I was excited to wake up at six in the morning to get ready to go to work. I told friends I woke up happy because I was delighted to go to work. No one understood or knew why. I kept my miserable marriage to myself, and no one knew I was unhappy. But I was happy to wake up at six because I looked forward to going to work. It was not just because I could escape being with my husband. It was more that I loved my career. My career began eight years before I got married. I loved children and enjoyed being myself around them. I was me. I did not need to try to be anyone but me. Being around my husband, I was never good enough for him; he wanted perfection. Being around my students, I felt free to be myself. 

Arriving at seven in the morning, I would be the first teacher at school besides the custodian who unlocked doors and disarmed the alarm. With yellow fadeless paper on the walls of my classroom, warmth and coziness enveloped me. The morning silence gave me comfort and peace to write lesson plans and prepare activities for the day. I was like a child enjoying my playtime; my alone time to soak in the sunshine gave me the strength to face what I needed to when I went home. At thirty, my career was my comfort amid the misery in my marriage. I am thankful I had a career I loved; it was also my place of joy and peace.

Thirty years later, the Big Six Zero appeared. How did that happen? How did time pass by so quickly? From thirty to sixty, the fairytale was that I would sit on the family room sofa with my Hubby and grown children, enjoying laughter, conversation, food, and drinks. That picture never materialized. If it did, I would have had a normal life where many get married and have children and grandchildren. 

With a childhood and teenage years marked with many moves and much adversity, the dream to get married and live happily ever after was an undying fantasy. Maybe it was too many fairytale stories read or movies with a happily ever after watched. I yearned for it for so long and thought it finally happened at thirty. The honeymoon was short, and the nightmare was seven long years until I divorced.

The Big Six Zero before me was nothing I ever imagined. Divorced with no children, I am alone. But I am much happier! Being free from the chains of an unhappy marriage is better than being trapped in an unhappy marriage, so I am glad for the divorce. Though I did not give birth to any children, I made sure I did not have any with the controlling and anal man I married. So, I have no regrets there. Since I see and teach children every day of work, I have no desire or craving for children. Again, no regrets related to children. Alone, I thoroughly enjoy and embrace time alone. I often felt guilty for enjoying it so much, as if it was not okay because society told me, but I no longer care what others think. I enjoy the peace and quiet each day I am at home alone. 

I sit and write my stories, which give me food for thought, discoveries, or inspiration. I am content that I can spend my time doing what I want with no obligations to answer to anyone’s demands but my own. The freedom I enjoy is priceless. I never want to go back to the days of feeling trapped or limited, like when I was married. The liberty enjoyed has allowed my creativity to thrive and satisfies me in writing stories and podcasting. If I want to explore a new place, I can go whenever I want without too much planning. The carefree feeling brings me to scenes of soaring like an uncaged bird and floating in the clouds like the girl who dreams and makes her ideas into reality.

Though I may have a routine to wake up and go to sleep at a particular time, I am happy knowing I can go to sleep whenever I want and wake up whenever I want. When I was married, I had to go to sleep at ten o’clock because that was when my husband went to sleep, and he insisted I had to go to sleep when he went to sleep. The freedom to sleep whenever I want is greatly appreciated because I once lost that freedom of choice.

Though there was the joy of sharing meals with my husband when I was thirty-something, the pressure of cooking meals daily for him without the freedom to have that occasional take-out food or a simple meal was stressful. Today, I am thankful to eat whenever I want, cook a simple meal whenever I want, and get a take-out order whenever I want. Freedom, freedom in the smallest of things, is sheer joy. I can see myself floating in the sky as I descend from a parachute. It is the ultimate freedom, happiness, and peace. 

A thirty-year-old is much younger than a sixty-year-old, but the older one is better if I had to choose the better time in life. I am older but wiser. I am older but more carefree and worry-free. I am older but happier. The thirty-year-old me couldn’t do whatever I wanted and was not very happy. I didn’t want to keep trying to please a husband who could never be satisfied but felt the need to do so. I am glad to be the sixty-year-old who feels no need to please anyone but myself. That is not to say I don’t care about others. It is to say that if I am not happy, I cannot make anyone else happy either!

Would I ever want to go back to half my age? No. Would I want to remove myself from the current age? No. I may want to be younger than older, age-wise, but the wisdom, peace, joy, and freedom I enjoy now cannot compare. Goodbye thirty, hello sixty. Though time seems to be passing by faster, I am appreciating more freedoms and dashing to do more of what I want or dream of. The most beautiful is the present. Live it; live it fully. Fill it with abundance!

Key Takeaways

Though I didn’t like looking at my birthday suit, it forced me to acknowledge what it does for me and that I need to take care of it.

Though being half my current age would be nice, I would not wish to return because the wisdom I have gained outshines it.

Next week, you will hear two real-life stories called When I Left Him & From Patience to Impatience. If you enjoyed this episode of Eye-Opening Moments, please text someone and ask them what they think about this podcast, or go to www.inspiremereads.com and leave a message. Thank you for listening!