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“My physical flaws.”
“What are those in your mind?”
That’s an easy one to answer. “My hips and behind are too big. My thighs are too thick. I have stretchmarks on my stomach, and while I know lots of women want big breasts, I wish mine were small and perky. I also wish I didn’t feel this way. I wish I didn’t care.”
“But you do?”
“Yes. I want to be able to bounce out of bed naked without pulling the sheet around me. I want to look at myself in a full-length mirror and feel about my body the way Mick feels about it. I want to see the beauty he sees.”
“Do you think Mick only sees your body as beautiful?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s the whole package. Inside and out. But it’s my body that I struggle with the most. I developed an unhealthyrelationship with food and my body early on. I would eat to self-soothe when my parents would fight or when my mom would get depressed and withdraw from me. I remember my father saying that I was gaining weight right before he left us, and soon after that my mother sent me into foster care. I think I equated the two. That they didn’t want me because I was fat. That’s where the negative tapes come into play.”
“They’ve had years to become ingrained. The good news is you can undo them,” she says encouragingly.
“How?”
“There are a number of different behavioral and exposure therapy exercises. I have a client that confronted her anxiety about her body by posing nude for an art class.”
“Oh God, no. If that’s the assignment, you might as well ask me to jump off a cliff.”
“I wasn’t going to suggest that.” Her smile carries humor. “Maybe one day. But for now, we’ll start with reframing those messages.”
“Okay, that sounds more like my speed.”
She sets aside her tablet and leans forward. “Let’s look at a few things that make up body image. Perception—the way you see yourself. It may not be accurate, but it’s your view. Affect—the way you feel about yourself based on your perception. And behavioral—how you behave in relation to how you feel about your body.
“We’re going to start with perception. What you tell yourself and what you believe. Does it stand to reason that big thighs make you unworthy?”
“No, of course not.” I get her point. “But I still think that way.”
“Right. That’s why we work on changing those negative messages. Just because you believe them doesn’t make them true.”
“So, how do I stop believing them?”
“By countering any of the thoughts that perpetuate your current body image. Your homework is to make two columns. One will have the negative tapes and the other will have the kinder and healthier messages that you can give yourself. That way whenever you think your thighs are too big, challenge that thought with: there’s nothing wrong with my thighs or my thighs aren’t too big at all, they are strong and sexy. Find the right messages for you. And over time those will become your truths.”
“And this will have me bouncing out of bed naked?” I ask.
“That will be up to you, Dee. But this will help you along that path. With continuous effort, you can feel good about your body, good about yourself. It really sounds like you want that.”
“I do.” Because I know as much as Mick loves and desires me, there is nothing more empowering than self-love and acceptance.
That evening, fresh from thegym, I start dinner, light the candles in the fireplace, and put on a romantic playlist. While Marvin Gaye croons about getting it on, I cut up tomatoes and basil.
The meeting with Dr. Roland left me with a new challenge I’m ready to tackle. And my relationship with Mick is on a nice, smooth path. Humming, I add the wine to the sauce and wait for it to boil. My plan is to let the sauce simmer and the flavors develop, while I take a shower and get dressed in something sexy. I want to be primped and perfumed for Mick’s arrival.
Only he gets home earlier than expected. The front door opens and I hear him in the foyer. That awareness alone makes my heart sing. But it does a full-on musical when he steps into the kitchen dressed in jeans and a charcoal sweater, scrunched up to reveal his muscular forearms.
He looks entirely edible. Meanwhile, my ponytail is coming undone, sweat-damp tendrils curl around my face, and I’m still wearing the black leggings and baggy T-shirt I’d worked out in.
But the dark gaze that does a heated sweep from my messy hair to my bare feet makes me forget all about my rumpled appearance. As tangible as a touch, it’s a look that rains shivers through my body and hardens my nipples.
“I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”
“I’m here now.” He prowls forward with a take-no-prisoner swagger and lays a kiss on me that goes straight to my head.
Fortunately, I have a couple of wits left to remember the brunch fire-alarm disaster. “The sauce,” I murmur before he relaxes his hold enough for me to turn around. I lower the flame and give the ingredients a stir while he keeps his arms around me from behind. Between the stove and Mick’s body heat, I’m melting.
