I’ve never been someone who loved looking in the mirror. Walking by a mirror, I never felt the need to look over at it. What for? For years, I couldn’t even glance without feeling that familiar pang, that quiet discomfort in my own skin. I never felt happy with what I would see in that mirror reflection, so I never really needed to look at it. The only part of me I ever truly liked was my heart. Because that was the one place I knew, without question, was beautiful for how much it continuously gave.

As I am aging, after pregnancies and postpartum phases, after the grind of medical school and residency, after all the years of helping others find comfort and grace in their own bodies, I am learning how to recognize and appreciate my own. And of course coming to terms with aging gracefully. Time has a way of changing everything, especially our bodies.

Starting at the top: I have a few white hairs now. Some are from stress, some from wisdom, and some from simply making it through life. Every time I brush my hair, the hairbrush is full of strands falling out. My eyebrows? They’ve stayed thin, loyal to the early 2000s trend I never quite let go of. And honestly, I should have kept them thick. But alas, here we are. And strangely, I don’t care as much about the facial hair anymore. There was a time I would religiously remove every stray hair. Now? If I see it, I see it. Hi there, chin hair.

My skin, once oily and riddled with stubborn acne that required heavy medications such as Accutane, is now dry. Boy, dealing with dry skin now is a whole different kind of maintenance. A different kind of relationship with my skin.

Then there’s my chest, my postpartum, post-nursing, post-pumping drooping chest. The version of me I never expected but completely understand now. Nursing changes you. Pumping changes you. Motherhood takes what once felt like yours and molds it into something that belonged to the kids first and you second.

My abdomen is its own memoir: scars from surgeries, stretched skin from pregnancies, and a bloat that feels like a permanent guest. It’s softer than it once was. Wiser than it once was. I’ll never squeeze back into the jeans I wore when I first got married. I’ve gone up ten sizes from that past life. And surprisingly, I’m okay with that. That part of me held the most life.

My feet, too, aren’t what they were. Restless legs that creep in during the day and steal from my sleep at night. A reminder that nothing about womanhood remains untouched.

It’s wild, isn’t it? What women go through. How our bodies shift through decades. Hormones spiking, dipping, confusing us at every age. As teenagers, we needed so much sleep. As adults, we wake up at 2 a.m. in a panic, rewired from innocence to experience. Our skin dries. Our brain feels different, somehow reshaped by everything we’ve lived through.

Although I am coming to terms with my body’s physical changes in outward appearance, I have been most frustrated with the changes causing my disrupted sleep, increase in restless leg, overall fatigue and pelvic floor issues. And even though all my bloodwork and sleep studies are “normal,” I still wonder: Why do I feel like this?
The truth is, every body tells a different story. Read that again, every body tells a different story. This is simply mine. I am working with my healthcare team to find a solution to improve my quality of life. I deserve that much, my body deserves it.

At the end of the day, be happy in your skin.
Remember how much your body has done for you.
And most importantly, please advocate for yourself. Whatever you need to feel happy with yourself, I really recommend looking into. You deserve to be happy.

Because this body has carried you through every chapter, even the ones you never thought you’d survive. Embrace it.