I'm one who hid behind “the mother” so well that even I couldn't see her for years. My story begins many years ago, and it is about a girl who was naturally beautiful, radiant, full of temperament. She was 22 when she met her partner for life after a passionate night. They were made for each other. She was successful, fortunate in almost everything she did. She loved life. So, when they felt the time had come, their first child sat on their shoulders. She was reborn in giving birth, she became a mother. As successful she had been in her job, she enjoyed maternity to the same extent too, she forgot work, that is, a new profession was born together with her children: assisting at births. There was just one thing that seemed worrisome in the beginning: the extra kilos didn't want to go away. In fact, they kept gathering as the children arrived. Then she slowly got used to it. She met almost only those who had always known her with her present shape. A full-figured tornado, who flies with her children all around, too fast to follow. She defends them if necessary, solves tasks that seem unsolvable. The “upholstery” was suitable to the help she gave around childbirths too. It provided safety. Her partner loved her the way she was. After the birth of the third child many a year went by like this.
Nobody knew that this usually cheerful mother couldn't see herself when she looked into the mirror. She couldn't see the girl she used to be or the woman she had turned into. She saw the mother she was proud of, and the profession she loved. Yet, she couldn't accept her body. The mirror was no friend of hers. She didn't like her body. Even though she knew she could only change if she accepted it as it was. But this she only knew with her mind, and no matter how she ground her teeth and wanted so, so much to accept herself, she just couldn't.
Then there came the mother roles, at psychodrama, among friends. She was proud of that.
Well, it disturbed her a little that one of the most attractive men in the circle of her friends kept calling her mummy. The fact that instead of their names her husband had become “father” and herself “mother” she didn't realize any longer. Some people may have tried to indicate the problem, but she didn't hear them. A less diplomatic acquaintance even made a remark once: “How overweight you've become!”
But these were less disturbing then. The days drifted her. The mother-taxi was always on duty. What did disturb her was that the men's glances had disappeared. Or she did not notice them any more. Earlier these “you are beautiful” glances had meant a lot to her.
She had always stood tall, enjoying her sex appeal, she collected the energy. Now she felt that nobody liked her any longer. Neither others, nor herself. Sometimes, at tired nights, she wasn't even sure about whether her husband liked her. They loved each other deeply from the beginning of times, they felt it. But man and woman were put into the shade.
Then autogenic training found her and taught her to spend 15 minutes twice a day on herself, only on herself. By then she had understood that everybody found time for what they wanted to. She practiced assiduously. She paid attention to herself.
Then she found a book and somebody she didn't even know sent her the audio material of the book by e-mail on the very same day. At the age of 42 she no longer left such incidents unnoticed. The book was Louise L. Hay's You Can Heal Your Life.
When listening to the CD she found the explanation: your body is your house, or a kind servant who gives your shelter and serves you lovingly. If you don't love your body, your cells have to work on a rough terrain. If you hate your body, it won't change. Love and respect your body, and take care of it like of your house or a good servant. This she understood clearly. Then she included this sentence in the 2x15-minute practice: “I respect, love, and take care of my body”. She said it as often as it came to her mind.
On a June day in a shopping mall she was offered a make-up, but she was in a hurry and rejected the offer. But then, on the following day, she took the opportunity, because a little voice in her mind didn't leave her alone: “You deserve it, make use of it.” She was nicely made up, and it was somehow a beautiful woman that looked back at her from the mirror. She decided to walk home because the weather was so nice and she felt like walking. The sun was shining, and she started to believe that she was beautiful the way she was. She was walking and noticed the first “you are beautiful” glance. She could hardly believe her eyes, but the glances kept coming. By the time she got home she had been radiating again. She took home a small make-up set, and decided to spend a short time every morning with giving some emphasis to her eyes. The days went by, and the mirror showed a friendlier picture. Then she went to have a massage, where her friend asked how much weight she had lost. I? She asked. I haven't checked. Go home and step on the weight scale. The darling scale showed 4 kilos less than usual.
She was happy as a lark. She kept shining and shining. She made a decision. She had exactly 67 days left from the summer. 67 warm summer days.
Then she could swim, row, ride the bicycle, walk. This was the first time she had believed those 67 days to be hers, on every one of which she could give herself an hour to do some exercise. She started to ride the bike by Lake Balaton, she rode almost 30 kilometers and she hardly noticed it. OK, sometimes some a calf motivated her, or the sight of a naked upper body riding a bike... She found the pleasure in physical exercise again. Then she went kayaking on the River Körös, or swam in the beloved water. The water caressed her, embraced her body and filled her with energy. Everybody noticed the change, the children, her partner and the friends too. This gave her wings.
Even fate helped her. She had to take her car to Budapest for a regular checkup. When on the way, she was thinking of riding the bicycle in Budapest. She took the car in the garage, where she was offered a bike in exchange – they said it was a summer offer.
Thank you, she said, just into the air, the one she addressed it to can perhaps hear it. She was standing there, far from home, with a bicycle. She got on and set off, riding across Árpád Bridge, the Margaret Island and all along the bank of the Danube. She got home in 40 minutes, and the image of the water stayed with her. By the time she got home she had already known how she would ride the bike here.
She spent the summer like that. Meanwhile she somehow stopped stuffing herself with food, and the comforting bread was not needed any more in the evening either. The pleasure of exercise was enough. He gave herself a gift of respecting, loving and looking after her body. And her body was grateful for the care.
What surprised her was that she didn't need enormous willpower or a heroic fight to change. She only needed to love herself.
Her daughters embraced her saying: Mother, you are so beautiful!
The girls who will once be mothers, but who need an example showing that mother and woman cannot exist without one another.
The old-new body has brought new challenges into her life, new tasks that are still ahead of her, her partner, their family. But now she can be sure that life will only make her face with challenges that serve her improvement, and if she is able to do something for the change, she will get help too.
Let this story be of help to every woman whose challenges are yet to come.
Let it give them strength and hope in that they are able to do anything, it only depends on their decisions. They only need some positive thoughts to make the first steps.
