Love your belly pooch

007: Double standards, The Art of Defiance and the Endless search of flat stomach

Dear Diary

Someone once said they’re not about to kill themselves over a flat stomach. After all, it’s not a requirement for getting into heaven. It was funny. And honestly, won’t we have glorified bodies when we leave this earth anyway?

Growing up, I was obsessed with the idea of having a flat stomach. I genuinely thought it was the standard, the norm, the default setting for womanhood. If a woman’s stomach wasn’t flat, I assumed something was wrong. Blame Aaliyah (Try Again), Blaque (remember As If from Bring It On?) and TLC(No Scrubs). The media I consumed made “flat” synonymous with “fine.”

TLC(left) Aaliyah (middle) Blaque(right)

Oh, and how can I forget Britney Spears and Destiny’s child. Lol.

But the older I get, the more I realize how absurd and frankly, exhausting it is to place such rigid, unrealistic standards on women’s bodies. Even Chloe Ting, the queen of YouTube abs, once shared in a behind-the-scenes clip that she gets bloated when she eats. So that impossibly flat stomach? Yeah, not even real in real life.

It’s just how the body works.

Sure, some people are genetically blessed with naturally flat stomachs. But comparing women’s metabolism to men’s? A lost cause. Our bodies are built differently—mass, hormones, everything. Sometimes, I look at my brother in awe. He can polish off a mountain of rice and stew, throw in dessert for good measure, and still have abs. Me? One pack of Maltesers and I’m suddenly seven months along in my food baby journey.

I once watched a short where people assumed Taylor Swift was pregnant because, in one of her concerts, her stomach was slightly protruding. And I’m like Duh! That’s literally how a woman’s body really looks (minus photoshop). What’s terrifying is how entitled people feel to comment on women’s appearances, like they’ve been handed a license by the media to dictate what’s acceptable.

Slim waist. Flat stomach. Hourglass, but only in the “right” places. It’s exhausting.

A mentee of mine (also a close friend) recently told me about a guy she was considering who kept hinting that she needed to be as thin as humanly possible. Flat stomach and all. One day, I told her to ask,

Does Mr. Slim Shady have a six-pack himself?

Turns out, Mr. Slim Shady had a full-blown potbelly. But somehow still had the gall to dream of a wife with a gym-sculpted, photo-shopped body. The worst part? He’d bring it up casually, then mask it with, “Oh, I’m just looking out for your health, dear.” Liar.

I was livid on her behalf. I told her what I’ll tell anyone: Believe people when they show you who they are. Especially when their “concern” smells more like control.

What happens when she gets older and her body starts to sag or change, because newsflash, it will! Will she suddenly become unworthy? Unlovable?

I’m honestly tired. Tired of the glaring double standards that women are constantly navigating. Men can have entire lists of physical expectations, and it’s considered normal. But the moment a woman sets her own standards—“He should love God, have sense, be emotionally intelligent, physically fit, and kind”, she’s branded as picky. Unrealistic. Demanding.

Let’s be clear: I know some people, women included, set the bar in the clouds. But that’s not who I’m speaking for. I’m speaking for women who ask for basic character and integrity and still get side-eyed for it.

It’s no surprise though. The media has done a stellar job shaping what’s “acceptable” for a woman’s body….what’s desirable, what sells. And well, they’ve got a market to feed, so I get it. But we don’t have to swallow it whole.

To every woman reading this: Don’t be so hard on yourself.

Yes, I believe in healthy living and fitness, but not the toxic kind that makes you hate your body before you even start. Work out because you love your body, not because you’re trying to earn someone’s approval.

Me? I workout because I sit at a desk all day. Teaching, reading, writing. If I don’t stretch or exercise, I start to feel it in my bones (literally). As I grow older, I want to stay mobile. I want to jump and dance and run without panting like I just climbed Mount Everest.

Once upon a time, I was so stiff you'd wonder if something was wrong. But now? I’ve seen the changes, (especially when I move) and I love it for me.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well-Psalm 139:14