After years of finding faults with myself, it's a welcome change to focus on the good things. Not always easy, but nice. So without a bad word about myself, I am going to talk about body image.
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| What I used to see in the mirror... |
I started reading a book today about a woman's journey of changing her self image and behavior, and by page 12 I was convinced it will become one of my favorites, because I can relate to every word she is writing. The first thing that struck me, is how she, as I and so many other women do, so often relate our self worth to our looks. Unless we are beautiful with a perfect body, we must not be worth anything. Where do we learn this? It's not something that sneaks up on us as adults. I already hear my daughter and her friends talking about their looks; their not even teenagers yet, and all I can think when I hear the comments "I'm so fat" is, how do I stop this from escalating to an eating disorder? Sadly, I think I am smart for already paying close attention to their comments and behavior related to food and body image.
At 10 years old, I was a healthy, normal child, but always thought all my girlfriends were prettier than me. I came home one day, when my mom had a few of the neighbor ladies over for lunch. I am not sure how this came up, but somewhere in our conversation I made the comment that I was fat - obviously fishing for compliments. But instead of them telling me how nice I looked, one of the neighbors laughingly said, "oh yes, you are". This happened 30 years ago, and I still remember as if it was yesterday, how mortified I was that someone confirmed I was fat. As if I didn't already think I was somewhat ugly, my self image definitely went down the drain. But I wowed for that to be the last time anyone would ever call me fat.
I didn't stop eating, get anorexia or bulimia or any other eating disorder. I worked out a lot, ate (mostly) healthy and grew quite tall. If there was any extra weight, the 80's fashion was pretty easy to hide it under. It took another 16 years until someone else called me fat.
At 26, I decided to try out an all women's gym. I loved aerobics classes, and had checked their time schedule before going. But instead of getting to try out the class I wanted, the customer service person proceeded to measure every possible part of my body and carefully recording every measurement, then forcing me onto a scale before she looked me in the eyes and said, "so where would you like to loose most weight?" I was 5'10" and weighed 136 lbs., had been running and lifting weights on a regular basis, and was in my mind, in great shape. You'd be hard pressed to find any part of my body to pinch. Yet here I was again, with the same feeling as when I was 10, wondering how I got so fat. I didn't get an eating disorder from that either, but it certainly helped me acquire my, according to my best friend, mentally distorted self image. Why do I keep saying I didn't get an eating disorder? Because for so many, that one comment is all it takes. Obviously, since I still remember exactly when and where the only two times someone eluded to me being fat was, I wasn't so far off that danger zone either.
Luckily I grew up with a healthy relationship to food, which I still have to some extent. I don't fret over how much I eat, or how often, but can easily go a day without eating anything. Not because I try to loose weight, but more out of laziness. Unless I'm starving, or I have to feed somebody else, I would rather spend my time doing anything other than cooking. And yes, making a sandwich constitutes cooking in my book. Having children, obviously helps me keep a healthier eating schedule. Bottom line is, food has never been an issue for me; however, seeing myself as too skinny, will probably never happen.
After gaining 62 lbs. when I was pregnant, and feeling like a whale (!), I couldn't loose the weight fast enough. Who cares that it took 9 months to get there? There was no way in hell it would take 9 months to get off my body! So I was back in my old jeans within four weeks of giving birth; however, that all of a sudden was not enough. Twiggy apparently became my idol.
When I shortly thereafter got sick with what I assumed was a stomach virus, preventing me from being able to hold down any food or liquid, I waited 12 days to seek medical treatment. I actually did go to the doctor earlier, but there was a long wait, I was busy at work, and the doctor was wearing pink pants, so I left (the latter in my breastfeeding hazy mind, most definitely disqualified his medical credentials!). By the time I actually saw a doctor, I had lost another 20 lbs., and was so dehydrated I got stuck in the ER for hours while they re-hydrated me through an IV. As unpleasant as the effects of the illness was during those 12 days, I thought it was fabulous that I had lost all that weight and now was thinner than I was as a teenager. All my bones were poking out, and I was flat as a board on both sides; absolutely no curves anywhere, but I thought I looked great. Not just great, but "send me to a photo shoot, I'm ready to be a model GREAT!" To everyone else I apparently looked like the poster child for an organization fighting starvation. Subtle hints from my husband and sister did not work. It took a conversation with my brother-in-law, who in quite frank terms told me that I was "ugly skinny" to change my view of my newly acquired "super body".
A decade later, I still define borderline underweight as my ideal weight. If I can pinch it, it shouldn't be there. As I'm reading my own words, I see how ridiculous it sounds, but this is 40 years in the making, and a hard one to break! Luckily I am now focusing much more on being healthy than being skinny, and I figure at 40+, a perfect body is one that will carry me through the next 40 years, not one that necessarily fits in to a size 4. Keeping that focus, and transferring it, rather than my fixation with being thin, to my children is the obvious challenge, and one that I most certainly hope I accomplish.
