SHEDDING MY SKIN

Let me tell you something about the ageing process. It humbles you.
That kick ass body that you always took for granted is suddenly bulging over your low rise jeans.
Your beautiful mane of hair is thinning and your butt is beginning to sag.
The wrinkles come out of nowhere and your hormones go out of whack. Yes, it’s a shit show after 45.

Or is it?
This lifetime is a journey of becoming. Of personal growth, honing instincts and acquiring wisdom.

I have always been in the modeling and entertainment industry, where there is a heavy emphasis on how you look. But slowly life has been changing me, forcing me to look inwards to discover beauty.

It’s a process of shedding your skin. Some processes more painful than others.
First it was the false nails, impossible to maintain in an aerial studio.
And who needs them really?

Then it was the big 4 Oh! And along came the panic about getting older and a solid 5 year Botox binge.
Enter the fantastical filler flirtation, both temporary and unsustainable,
I dropped that particular obsession by 45. Are we not just prolonging the inevitable, afterall?
Don’t get me wrong, there were days where I stared in the mirror before a date and regretted my divorce from injectibles.
But I stood firm in the belief that I have more to offer than my face.

Photoshop was a fascinating distraction for a while, perfecting every tummy roll and blemish.
And then realising it’s pretty toxic to present this fake version of perfection to the world. To set unrealistic standards for other women to loathe themselves by.
And so I let that go too, deliberately posting images with the belly rolls and wrinkles, because let’s be real…we all have them.

Then came the biggie, the breast implant drama. After 17 years and 7 surgeries, I had to let them go. It was never smooth sailing, I had complications right from the start. Fluid running down my chest, swelling, and finally a rupture which filled my chest with silicone. One has to question a beauty aesthetic which requires women to slice open their chests, pry the muscle off their rib cage, and insert a pair of silicone bags in the name of beauty. But I bought into that idea big time.
And when they had to be removed for good… I cried, I mourned them, I felt like I had had a mastectomy. Because after 17 years they felt like my own breasts and they were gone. And then I felt all this guilt and self loathing because I had brought this upon myself.
And as I lay in that hospital bed with my soul laid bare, I started the long road to my next and greatest mind shift.
I AM ENOUGH.

Enter the mermaid phase. It washed over me like a tidal wave, a silicone tail being a healthier choice than the toxic titties. Freediving, skin diving, mermaid shows and the era of the hair extensions. God I felt beautiful as a mermaid, I still do. How I loved having long, thick, beautiful hair. And how sad I felt to let them go.
And how surprising to realise I didn’t need those hair extensions either.

Que arthritis and swollen discs in my spine. Perfectly understandable after 17 years of pole dance fitness and the aerial arts.
For so many years pole dance had made me feel beautiful, like a goddess spinning through the air. It fulfilled me in ways my marriage never could, a pure internal self love growing into a more confident and happy version of myself. But now life has other plans for me, or for my spine at least! It’s been difficult to accept these changes with grace, but I’m discovering new ways to embody the goddess within. So I’m spinning less and uplifting women in other ways. I’m sharing my many beautiful skills with my life coaching clients and we are rising together.

Perhaps I’m getting better with self acceptance, or dare I say self love, the hardest journey of all. I can feel I’m starting to step into the next phase of womanhood. From maiden to mother to wild woman.
So although I might cling to my eyelash extensions a little longer, I’m enjoying embodying the wisdom that comes from experience, and focusing less on trying to look 35.

I still catch myself sometimes taking that sideways glance in the mirror whilst entangled in a yoga pose, registering the wrinkles with surprise and dismay. Caught off guard. Judging myself based on how I look, more unkind to myself than to my worst frenemies.

But each of these sheddings has shown me more of who I am, on the inside. Not defined by breasts or youth. Not defined by prettiness or people pleasing.
But rather defined by who I am on the inside.
Life is a process of becoming.
Of shedding.
Of death and rebirth.
Of rising from the ashes.
It’s up to us to define who we are and our value to the world.
Take your power back.
It was never theirs to hold.

I am Candice Baker, holistic life coach and relationship coach.

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