Body Image: The Second Puberty & Why it is Sacred

Most of us remember how (slightly) traumatic it was getting your first period, usually at the most inconvenient time, and immediately arriving at the conclusion that you were dying. Or the time your boobs started to grow, you became shapelier, and men (not boys) began to notice you at the tender age of 11.

Adolescent puberty, for the vast majority of us, was a turbulent and eve-opening experience. This is a time where we become aware of our bodies, how they operate, how to properly take care of them and unfortunately, what people want from them.

The effort that goes into educating young girls about the changes they will experience is sadly minimal. The lesson usually goes along to lines of periods are unhygienic and to be kept secret’, ‘boys will be boys’, and my personal favourite; ‘don’t use a tampon or you will lose your virginity’. As a result, we trudge along crushing on the boys who pull our hair, secretly lending pads to girls in need at school as if they were contraband, and dangerously unaware of what unusual symptoms we should be looking for in order to best protect our yonis.

This solemn routine usually continues into our early 20s, until we begin to experience our Second Puberty. One thing they don’t tell you when you’re a teen and your body is changing, is that it will most likely change again in your twenties. This time, it takes you even more by surprise.

For me, I became even more shapely, possibly my body preparing for me to potentially carry a child, but the most noticeable change was my outlook on life and all that comes with being a woman. Periods became less of a taboo and dreadful experience and evolved into an intimate and spiritual event. I began to become acutely aware of my behaviours and patterns and developed a thirst for self-improvement. Slowly, but surely, I embraced the womanly body bestowed upon me. I valued her curves, stretch-marks, rolls, body hair and how she bled; I strived to present her in her rawest forms by ditching razors and tampons and opting for period underwear and harbouring untamed manes between my legs and pits.

I could finally see what society works tirelessly to keep girls and women from realising; as a woman, I am a sacred and valued vessel. Not because of what I bring to the table’, but because of how my body works to produce life, how my heart nurtures and cares for those I love, and how my mind envisions and creates.

My beauty and value do not come from adhering to ever-changing beauty standards and hiding the very bodily functions that make me unique, but from embracing the sacrality of the Second Puberty, proactively learning the correct ways to take care of my vessel, and deeply loving her for all she does for me.