Stretch Marks, Self-Love, and the Middle Path

When I was a teenager, I sat in church listening to a sermon about body image. The pastor shared how he loved his wife's stretch marks because they were proof of their love, a reminder that she had given birth to their sons. No judgment if that sentiment resonates with you, but for me, it landed like a weight in my stomach. I was 16 or 17, about 90 pounds, and had never been pregnant—but I had stretch marks on my thighs. Did that mean mine were ugly? Had I not "earned" them? I'm sure the message was well-intentioned, but it sucked. I felt like it implied that stretch marks were something to be excused rather than simply accepted.

I've heard versions of this "justification" over and over again—excuses people make for having normal, human bodies. But here's the thing: being a human with a body is explanation enough. You can be small and thin and still have stretch marks. All that means is your body grew at some point. No further justification needed. Your body can be large because you've gone through pregnancy, or it can just be large. Also totally okay and totally beautiful. 

I recently read something from health educator Emily Nagoski that really stuck with me: "We’re not saying that “beautiful” is what your body should be; we’re saying beautiful is what your body already is.” Present tense! You don’t owe beauty to anyone. It’s not something you have to earn or achieve—it’s something that is innate within you. No changes needed. Your body is beautiful now, just as all bodies are—just as all people are.  

It's about accepting not just where we are, but who we are. I want to love my body just because it is MINE. In a season of deep therapy work, I set a mantra for myself "My body belongs to me." I would say it to myself at the start and the end of each yoga class. I can have stretch marks - and no one else gets to tell me that I haven't earned the right to be okay with them. Because no one else lives in this body. This body is mine. And it's pretty freaking awesome! 

And beyond that, I don’t think these kinds of justifications actually help. Sure, maybe some people find comfort in telling themselves, "My body is beautiful because X," but what happens when the "because" changes? If your body is only worthy under certain conditions, is that really self-acceptance?

This is where the yogic principle of aparigraha, or non-attachment, comes in. Aparigraha teaches us to release our grip on external validations—including beauty standards and weird moral judgements about what bodies can and should be. If our self-worth hinges on specific conditions, whether it's weight, shape, or even health, then it remains fragile and conditional. True body acceptance means letting go of the need to justify our appearance at all. It also means letting go of the need to justify changes you make along the way.

I wrestled with this when I got braces in my 30s. I felt like I needed to over-explain that I wasn’t getting them for aesthetic reasons—I worried people would think I was shallow. But at the same time, I had shame about how my teeth looked! It was a classic "she doth protest too much" situation. I was worried I would be judged because of my teeth, and I was worried I would be judged for changing them. In reality, some people probably did judge me for each of those things. But does it matter? I wanted to change my teeth so I could be healthier and get rid of my chronic headaches, but I also do enjoy that now my teeth look different than they did before. My body was beautiful then, and my body is beautiful now. And it will be beautiful tomorrow. 

So what do we make of that? I believe you can fully accept yourself and still seek change. You can honor where you are now without judgment and still work toward something different. It’s not black and white (which I hate! Make it easy! Don’t make me sit with the tension!). But in that tension—that’s where yoga happens. It’s not about rigidly rejecting change or relentlessly chasing it; it’s about moving with awareness, making choices from a place of self-compassion rather than fear or shame.

I see this on my mat, too. Maybe today, I can’t jump back from crow. Maybe tomorrow, I can. Today is still enough. Tomorrow, if I succeed, hooray! But that doesn’t take away from today’s practice. I can work toward a jump back without shaming myself for where I am right now. And maybe next week, I won’t feel great, or I’ll be on my cycle, or my arms will just be tired, and the jump back won’t happen. That’s okay, too. Life isn’t linear—on or off the mat. It's about accepting the present moment. 

So yeah, I have stretch marks. And I don’t have a special reason for them. I’ve never been pregnant, they don’t prove my love for anyone else, and they don’t tell a dramatic story. They just are. And they are okay simply because they are—because this body is mine.