Rewind a little more than two years ago and it's the Summer of 2012. I was back from college, excited to take on the sandy shores of my hometown with my two best friends for our very first summer as a twenty-one year olds, except my intestines had other plans for me. Summer 2012 was by far the sickest I have ever been with my IBS. Instead of concocting cocktails, I was calculating how much medication I needed to take for the day, eleven pills total, and how many extra pills I should bring with me, should I not be home for my next dosage. While my friends chased shots, I chugged bottles of Magnesium Citrate, hoping for some sort of intestinal relief. The only wristbands I wore that summer were the two hospital admission bracelets I earned from the excruciating stomach pain that prevented me from eating and sleeping. I ended up being sent home with: stomach pain cause unknown and a diagnosis of Colic. I was beyond frustrated and doped up on heavy duty painkillers. I wasn't hungover, but fatigue and brain fog were the lovely side effects of all the mixed medications I was on. If I didn't take them, I'd become more backed up than the Brooklyn Bridge at rush hour and I'd have unbearable cramps, but when I did, I was as useless as the girl whose had far too many tequila shots and is slumped over sleeping in the corner....
My IBS was completely out of control, and despite being poked and prodded at like a science experiment, and trying every trick in the book, simply put, doctors couldn't pin point a cause of the extreme exacerbation of my symptoms. I was already eating gluten free, not ingesting lactose, as well as avoiding any other gas producing food, yet there I was, unable to wear any of my clothes because my stomach had become permanently bloated. My intestines were irate and inflamed, causing my skin to stretch and my belly to become so distended, I looked as if I was a few months pregnant. While my shape changed in the mirror, so did my mindset. I hated my stomach. It became a serious source of negative body image for me, picking away at the positive body image I had worked so hard to create. I wished I could just get an intestinal transplant or at least deflate my stomach, but neither of those were feasible options, so what did I do instead?
I went and got my belly button pierced on a whim. Somehow, having a needle shoved through my skin, to adorn my bloat with some bling, seemed like the best option I had. I thought to myself, if I'm going to be big and bloated majority of the time, there might as well be a little rhinestone to make me feel better about it and have it look somewhat cute. That's right, I went and got my belly button pierced BECAUSE of my IBS. It was a big middle finger to the condition that was controlling my life, shredding my self-esteem, and causing me so much pain. And I felt pretty darn good about it, I rocked that ring like NO other that summer, and when others gave me dirty looks or judged me for getting a body piercing, I didn't mind. It was something I had done for myself, and what they thought didn't matter to me, because that little barbell was making me happy, even on my most bloated of days, I could look down and think "that's right IBS, you don't control how I feel about my body, I DO."
Fast forward two years, another summer of hell and a summer of healing in between and here I sit typing this post. And if you're still reading it,you're probably wondering "what's the point of all of this?"
That bling I got to adorn my constantly waxing and waning stomach due to my severe IBS had to come out recently. My belly button ring migrated, (due to the constant swelling of my stomach, the piercing never got a chance to heal). At first, I was upset, what would I do without my rhinestone? I had HATED my stomach for so long, I was afraid that the hate would creep back into my brain as the scar healed over, but it hasn't. I may have lost the ring, but my love for my body and myself, is stronger than ever. I do not need a belly button ring to feel good about myself and my body, just like you don't need to "look a certain way" to feel good about your body. And while I now have another scar to add to my stomach (lucky number five), I don't mind. It's a reminder of how strong I am, and how strong I was, to not let my condition control my mindset or self-worth anymore.
Do not let your chronic condition or reflection in the mirror determine your self-worth,
Love your body and Love yourself
My IBS was completely out of control, and despite being poked and prodded at like a science experiment, and trying every trick in the book, simply put, doctors couldn't pin point a cause of the extreme exacerbation of my symptoms. I was already eating gluten free, not ingesting lactose, as well as avoiding any other gas producing food, yet there I was, unable to wear any of my clothes because my stomach had become permanently bloated. My intestines were irate and inflamed, causing my skin to stretch and my belly to become so distended, I looked as if I was a few months pregnant. While my shape changed in the mirror, so did my mindset. I hated my stomach. It became a serious source of negative body image for me, picking away at the positive body image I had worked so hard to create. I wished I could just get an intestinal transplant or at least deflate my stomach, but neither of those were feasible options, so what did I do instead?
I went and got my belly button pierced on a whim. Somehow, having a needle shoved through my skin, to adorn my bloat with some bling, seemed like the best option I had. I thought to myself, if I'm going to be big and bloated majority of the time, there might as well be a little rhinestone to make me feel better about it and have it look somewhat cute. That's right, I went and got my belly button pierced BECAUSE of my IBS. It was a big middle finger to the condition that was controlling my life, shredding my self-esteem, and causing me so much pain. And I felt pretty darn good about it, I rocked that ring like NO other that summer, and when others gave me dirty looks or judged me for getting a body piercing, I didn't mind. It was something I had done for myself, and what they thought didn't matter to me, because that little barbell was making me happy, even on my most bloated of days, I could look down and think "that's right IBS, you don't control how I feel about my body, I DO."
Fast forward two years, another summer of hell and a summer of healing in between and here I sit typing this post. And if you're still reading it,you're probably wondering "what's the point of all of this?"
That bling I got to adorn my constantly waxing and waning stomach due to my severe IBS had to come out recently. My belly button ring migrated, (due to the constant swelling of my stomach, the piercing never got a chance to heal). At first, I was upset, what would I do without my rhinestone? I had HATED my stomach for so long, I was afraid that the hate would creep back into my brain as the scar healed over, but it hasn't. I may have lost the ring, but my love for my body and myself, is stronger than ever. I do not need a belly button ring to feel good about myself and my body, just like you don't need to "look a certain way" to feel good about your body. And while I now have another scar to add to my stomach (lucky number five), I don't mind. It's a reminder of how strong I am, and how strong I was, to not let my condition control my mindset or self-worth anymore.
Do not let your chronic condition or reflection in the mirror determine your self-worth,
Love your body and Love yourself
I pledge to love my body, regardless of my stomach's size due to the nature of my IBS. I control how I feel about the skin that I am in, NOT my condition.
- Do you have a condition that effects your self-esteem sometimes?
- Will you join my pledge to promote positive body image?
For anyone who found the above image offensive or inappropriate, I am sorry that you feel that way, but I am not sorry for sharing my celebration of self-love. If you do not like it, do not look at it. It is my body, and I have the freedom to express my self love freely, in hopes it encourages other women to do the same. Before you shame me, think if you love yourself enough to bare your skin for the world to see.
