You hold that I am not beautiful because my face is plain. But you know nothing; you are still unenlightened. Learn, then, that it is not in the face alone that beauty is to be sought. My face is unattractive!
But I have a left shoulder-blade that is a miracle of loveliness. People come miles to see it. My right elbow has a fascination that few can resist.
Katisha, The Mikado, Gilbert and Sullivan

We lost our home to a fire June 2008. For a year, we lived in a stupor. We, finally, settled into a new home only to find we were nowhere near whole. I picked up Peter A Levine’s Healing Trauma. Dr. Levine offers a 12 step program for getting over horrible events (or not so horrible but negatively life altering). Step one is what this article is about.
Dr Levine says “The body is the container of all our sensation and feelings. It is also the boundary separating us from our environment…. The skin is our first line of defense.” He asks the participant to tap on their skin, starting with the palms, saying “This is my hand, my hand belongs to me, my hand is a part of me.” The participant takes time to think about how their skin feels and continues over their entire body.
This got me thinking – skin therapy is not a new idea. I have read several articles on a technique called skin brushing in which the person rubs the skin with a soft stiff brush. Each author had different reasons from simple exfoliation to energy realignment. In the end, it all came down to reconnecting mind with body. When we explore our skin we bring our focus back to us.
Know that there is a great article in this I set out to try Dr. Levine’s technique. Yesterday morning, I returned to bed after getting my son off to school. I have not been myself in a long while. After a nap, I laid there and thought “Oh well, now’s a good time.” I tapped on my hand but I didn’t like the way it felt so I went through the motions of touching each body part and claiming it as mine. I rushed through it but I promised I would do it again in the shower since Dr. Levine has an alternative technique using a pulsing shower head instead of tapping. I committed a bit more in the shower, taking a little more time but being aware that I had a limited amount of hot water. Then I did something I don’t normally do, I took a washcloth and slowly bathed my skin. I took time to observe my skin. I watched the cloth glide over it, enjoyed the feel of the soap, noticed the beauty of my hands and arms.
I got out of the shower and moisturized my face, something I never do in the morning and only hit and miss in the evening. I took extra care and let my fingers glide over my face and neck. I even moisturized my ears. I could feel them expressing joy and love. I imagined them sighing with content because they were finally loved.
I went into my bedroom to continue with lotion on my skin. I used a thick scented cream but I didn’t get far because I needed clothes. I looked at my closet in horror. What happened to all my pretty clothes – those pieces that made me feel wonderful? Sadly, they hadn’t fit into my life and were tucked away for a better time. I started pulling them out – everything. I examined each piece like a long lost friend. The skirt I picked out to wear was too wrinkled to be worn because it had been wadded up all this time. I settled on a deep purple skirt, white silk top and a pink sweater my aunt crocheted for me.
Feeling properly prepared, I went back to the lotion and my self love. Now for all those out there with a dirty mind – this is was not a sexual experience but a spiritual one. I found my toes again and delighted in them like a baby who discovered them for the first time.
I ran my hands across my belly and got to thinking about the relationship I have with my body. My stomach is not my pride and joy, in fact I downright hate my stomach. It’s fat and stretch marked. I realized I have a horribly abusive relationship with my body. I blame it for being unloveable. I tell it “I can’t love you because you are old and fat. How can anyone love you?” As I ran my hands over the lumpy skin I remembered that those stretch marks are evidence of bringing my son into the world. I can’t help but notice my sagging breasts. I joke that my nipples are racing to my navel but I have them. They are healthy and if, by chance, I have another child they will provide the needed nourishment.
I couldn’t help but weep, I still weep as I write this. My body never stopped loving me. My skin has held strong. My feet still support me even when I am unkind. My hands still help me. My fingers never hesitate at the keyboard.
I found myself rubbing my arms in amazement – like a new lover. I dressed, opting for a black cotton shirt instead of the silk (it was more wrinkled than I thought). I did my hair and put on lip gloss. In the mirror, I saw myself again. I left the room and went and made lunch. That afternoon, I went to the library and the grocery store. I did nothing special but I treated myself like I was special. I was more whole than I had been in a long time. How strange that I would feel that way after such a small thing like touching my skin.
This morning, I didn’t return to bed for a morning nap but headed for the shower. I had forgotten what it was like to shower every morning. Since I don’t work outside the house much, I neglect the basic needs of my body claiming “what’s the point – no one is going to see me.” I rubbed my skin with the wash cloth and continued with the new routine (I even took the time to use the neti pot). I moisturized my face and neck, not neglecting my ears. I went to my room and applied lotion to my body. I feel a new love for myself, delighting in the shape of my ankle and the curve of my hip.
My face may be plain but people will gather to enjoy the beauty of my skin. And if they don’t, then I have it all to myself and what a love affair we are going to have.

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