Physical signs of aging make me feel like time is of the essence. They remind me that life is not infinite, and so I should avoid spending it on the couch scrolling social media, binging Netflix or simply dreaming about all of the things on my bucket list. I want to be in the present moment and savor whatever makes me come alive. I mean, there’s still so much I want to see, do, and experience in this lifetime.

The aging process also makes me curious and, honestly, a lil’ nervous about how the next few decades will alter my appearance. This quote about aging from Joseph Pilates always cracks me up: “As we mature, we find ourselves living in bodies not always complimentary to our ego”.

Something that reinforces my negative body image is the loop of negative memories I hold onto. They’re always on standby for any moment that might trigger self-loathing. When that happens, my brain – on auto-pilot – hits “play”; and once that loop gets going, the pause button is hard to access. I am my own worst enemy.

Compounding that is the fact that, as a dancer, I spent my most formative years having my weight and body type scrutinized and criticized. And that bled into my professional dance career.

To me, “body confidence” is… owning my strength, power, & resilience as much as I embrace my vulnerability, softness, sensuality. It’s feeling curious and inspired by my body’s potential, adaptability, and mobility. It’s celebrating its ability to explore the world through my senses, learn new skills, and constantly regenerate through nurturing lifestyle habits. It’s gratitude for my body’s intuitive abilities to facilitate  empowerment and healing in others through Pilates and massage therapy.

At the most superficial level, when I look in the mirror I see the aging process at work. As I gaze at my 51yo self, I see decades worth of reflections flash before me: each era staring back as a reminder of what’s shaped me.

I see… the negative voices from my childhood about my appearance that cultivated my own negative self-talk… being a dark-skinned Black girl in a predominantly White town with a love of Classical ballet where no one looked like me either…

meant to be me. And f**k me for choosing careers that are so driven by aesthetics! In hindsight, it feels both foolish and brave after growing up with all the verbal and non-verbal messaging that I wasn’t the “right type” to pursue my dreams. I knew that being called “healthy” wasn’t a compliment and that my “thick thighs” would always stand between me and a dance career. And in the world of entertainment, hardly anyone looked like me! But I did it anyway. 

I nurture my body by being a self-care junkie. But here’s the real story: I’ve finally learned to listen to my body after years of ignoring all the warning signs that she’d had enough of this “wild child”. I believed I was invincible. She was on the verge of going kaput. My response? Adrenaline plus ice. But there ain’t enough feel-good hormones or analgesics to sustain the highly physical careers I’ve chosen. My body had to sit me down multiple times – in the form of injury – and hand me ultimatums.