top of page

The First Time I Felt My Butt Jiggle.

I got a strong rebuke from The Holy Spirit about fat shaming MYSELF!

I got a strong rebuke from The Holy Spirit about fat shaming MYSELF!

My entire life I felt uncomfortable in my skin, but not for the reason you might think. As a kid I was more toned and muscular than the other girls at school. So much so that I was teased and called “man” by the boys in my class.

I HATED my broad shoulders and muscular arms. Middle school was the worst because I started to develop boobs. The rest of my curves waited to develop until my late 20’s.

Being a 6th grader with broad shoulders, big boobs (or what I thought was big at the time), with narrow hips made me feel masculine and out of place. Instead of the hourglass figure I was more of an upside down triangle.

The only place I felt my muscular figure had purpose was on the track, where I was praised for my fast speed and my vertical in high jump.

Fast forward to my junior year of high school where I started to accept my athletic build. This year I started weight lifting for the first time. Prior to this my track and field coach could not convince me that weight lifting would not cause me to look more like a man. So I REFUSED to lift anything other than my body weight before the 11th grade.

What a game changer lifting weights was for me. It increased my performance on the track to the point of collegiate recognition! “Why did I wait so long to start lifting?” I would quietly think to myself.

But what does this have to do with fat shaming?

Be patient! This story leads somewhere.

I’m in college at this point on a full ride athletics scholarship. Here is where  I morphed my identity around my athleticism in an attempt to accept my body. I felt that my involvement in sports gave others a paradigm in which they could also accept my body without question. “Oh, she’s not built like a man. She’s a high performing athlete!” This was the vibe I was going for.

All of that was good and fun until my world came crashing down due to a brain injury after my under graduate studies. For the first time in my life I couldn’t work out or be active because I was on bed rest. All I could do on bed rest was eat, sleep and repeat.

When I came out of bed rest and started visiting family and friends I started getting unwelcome compliments. “Rebecca, looks like you’ve put on a little weight. Looks good on you!” 

My loved ones didn’t mean any harm. My entire life they knew me to be the skinny athletic one amongst the curvy women in my family. To be curvy and “thick-boned” is typically a favored physique in the Black community. NO ONE was built like me in my family. Only the men. So for me to put on weight was seen as me coming into my womanhood.

Each time I received those backwards compliments, the walls of the false identity I built for myself were shattered. I could no longer hide behind the athletic frame. I did not have a paradigm for this new body.

I remember the exact location I was walking the first time I ever felt my butt jingle. (I know this language is graphic for some, but this was my actual experience.)

I was walking down the aisle of the grocery store. I thought it was the fabric of my pants rubbing against my skin. I stopped, examined and then began to walk again. 

Jiggle jiggle. THERE IT WAS AGAIN! Then it dawned on me. It wasn’t the fabric of my pants. It was a jiggle from my rear. I was SHOCKED! And not in a good way.

Then there was another time when I was in graduate school when I sat down on my bed to study. I had my books and laptop in place, but for some reason I couldn’t get comfortable. 

I thought maybe I had too many layers of clothing on. So I removed a layer only to discover it wasn’t the clothing making me uncomfortable. It was a belly roll tucked in my waist taking up space that I hadn’t accounted for. Ugh!!! I felt like I was wearing a thick winter outfit that I couldn’t take off.

I started picking up bad habits. Every time I walked past a mirror I would pull up my shirt and stare at my stomach. I did this when I woke up in the morning. I did this every time I went to the restroom. I even started doing it every time I walked past any mirror in my home.

Without thought, if there was a mirror, I used it for an opportunity to criticize my tummy. Comparing it to the abs I once had as a D1 athlete, which was totally unfair.

However, that all changed with one strong Holy Ghost interruption. One day I stood in front of the mirror in my bedroom. With my shirt raised, I grabbed a big handful of the fat around my waists and I stared at myself with disgust. 

I heard The Holy Spirit clear as day, “Don’t grab my body like that.” Though His voice was not audible to my natural ears, I heard him speak loud and clear from within.

My entire perspective changed in an instant.

We truly are the Temple that God has chosen to dwell in. Therefore, He takes it personally how we speak about and treat our bodies.

That wrecked me… in a good way. So now when I walk past a mirror or I feel a little jiggle, I thank my body for being resilient and strong. I compliment my body on being beautiful! I gas myself up even when it’s hard for me to believe in the moment.

Don’t forget that we are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image and likeness of God! And ain’t nothin’ ugly about that!

Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own (1 Corinthians 6:19).

Closing Remarks

Thanks for taking time out to read my fist blog! I'd be really curious to hear your thoughts, take aways and suggestions on this blog. Did you like it? I want to start doing more of these. What topics would you like to read about? Message me on IG at pillarofstrength_pos and let me know!



Hi, I'm Becca!

This is my first public blog in the last decade. I love journaling and writing in general. I desire to be a best selling author telling tales of life from my perspective. For now, we will start here in this blog. I hope you enjoyed it. My prayer is that you walk away loving yourself a little more.

bottom of page