An Uppity Woman Chronicle
Women are relentlessly bombarded with messages that our bodies are projects in need of fixing. Flatten your belly. Lift your breasts. Disguise your wrinkles.
The whisper is always the same: you are not enough as you are.
I used to listen. For decades, I believed my body was a renovation project—something to be corrected, improved, or apologized for. I was embarrassed by my lazy eye. Teased about my small breasts. Certain my soft belly meant I’d failed some unspoken test.
But here’s the radical truth I finally uncovered: my body is not a problem to solve—she’s my home. Loving her, exactly as she is, has become the most rebellious act of my life.
The No / Yes Manifesto
Unconditional love isn’t all incense and Hallmark glitter. It’s fierce. It says:
No to shame.
No to the cultural obsession with shrinking, tightening, and smoothing.
No to handing my worth over to someone else’s gaze.
And just as fiercely, it says:
Yes to the soul that lives in this body.
Yes to the soft belly and the too-small breasts.
Yes to the wandering eye that sees far more truth than most.
Yes to a life lived out loud, without apology.
Empath, Interrupted
I’m an empath. Translation: I’ve spent half my life pouring myself into everyone else’s cup while forgetting to refill my own. The world called it noble. I call it exhausting.
Here’s the radical rebellion: when we refuse to love our own bodies, we quietly give permission for the world to ignore them too.
So I stopped apologizing. Loving my body exactly as she is became my protest sign. Every “I love her” is a declaration: I will no longer collude with harm.
Jamie Lee & the Mirror
Then came Jamie Lee Curtis—queen of the visible, silver-haired, unapologetic. She stood before the world and said no retouching, no hiding, no pretending. I wanted to stand and clap.
In a culture that treats women as if we should fade at fifty, Jamie shows up vibrant and unfiltered. If she can do that under studio lights, surely I can do it under my bathroom mirror.
What This Love Looks Like
Rebellion isn’t just grand gestures; it’s the small, sacred choices.
Wearing clothes that feel good instead of disguise.
Feeding myself with pleasure, not guilt.
Touching my belly tenderly instead of pinching it with shame.
Resting when I’m tired. Dancing when I’m moved.
Madison Avenue can keep its wrinkle cream; I’ll keep my laugh lines—they match my joy.
The Revolution of Now
For years, I thought I’d love my body when she changed—smaller, smoother, different. Now I know better. Love deferred is love denied.
Imagine what might shift if women everywhere chose the same rebellion—if we stopped apologizing for existing in skin that changes and breathes.
Because when a woman stops apologizing for her body, she becomes a force. When she looks in the mirror and says—
“Damn, I’m magnificent.”That’s not vanity.
That’s revolution.