As a one hundred and fifteen pound teenager, I believed myself fat. My body, though I see now in the rearview mirror of age, was beautiful even by society's standards, became a loathsome enemy very early on. I compared myself to magazines and movies and friends. Everyone was always thinner and more beautiful. Everyone had clearer skin and a skinnier waist and thinner thighs. I was an attractive enough girl...and then woman. I wasn't "ugly" per se, but I was less than.
Within each decade of my life, there seemed to be some magical (and unattainable) number on the scale that held the holy grail of "enough". If I could just get to that number...120, 125, 130, 135...then everything would be great. I'd be thin enough, pretty enough, fashionable enough...
I'd be enough.
As I got older, especially once I had kids, that "acceptable" number got higher and my relationship with it more conflicted. I no longer just bowed down to the idea that I needed to be thin. I still wanted it. I still beat myself up about not getting it. But, I no longer had absolute acceptance of the idea that skinny = happy/better/being enough. Now the feminist side of me started to challenge this idea.Skinnier isn't inherently better/more beautiful. There was a time when a more Rubenesque physique was thought more beautiful. My belief that thinner is better comes from the pervasive diet culture that I've grown up in...lived my whole life in. And there's plenty of evidence to suggest that a patriarchal society benefits from my shitty body image-- they want to make me smaller, weaker. They want me riddled with doubt and fear. It reinforces their power. If I'm distracted by my appearance, if I'm busy trying to get thinner, it makes it far more difficult to challenge their authority. Plus, they get to make LOTS of money off of me.
So why do I, an intelligent, educated, self-aware woman who's about to turn forty-fucking-five (and, frankly knows damn better), still find herself burdened by the number on the scale (which doesn't match the "should be" in her head) and the rolls on her middle?
I wrote last week about my February Funk. Well, said "funk" has invaded my psyche and become pervasive negative self-talk. And some days, it's pretty bad, y'all. I catch my thoughts berating my self and I can't even contradict what they're saying. Because I believe it's all true. (Which is kind of mortifying to write.) So I degrade myself and do hopeful online shopping for creams and makeup and clothes that promise to help. And I try intermittent fasting, followed by reactionary 9pm chip and cereal eating.
And it becomes a vicious cycle in which I get more and more down on myself and my head becomes a really ugly place to be.
I would never say to another person any of the awful things I currently am saying to myself. I wouldn't even think them. That's what's so weird about this. I really only turn it on myself. I don't look at other people and think about how they should really lose some weight, or do their hair or wear makeup...not ever. But the things I say to myself...whoa!
I feel ugly and fat. And when I look in the mirror, I cringe. And this makes me-- So. Very. Sad.
One way to stop this is to increase my exercise routine (currently 30 minutes on a bike and yoga stretches daily) and restrict my already (mostly) healthy eating. Could I stand to eat less? Probably. Could I move more? Sure. -- I'd even do it happily if I could just get this Plantar Fasciitis to go the hell away.
Which brings me to the broader issue of body hatred. Because I'm REALLY mad at my body these days. And not just because it's carrying extra weight and won't let go.
But because I've had Plantar Fasciitis for more than 9 months now,
...and because I wake up sore and in moderate pain every morning,
...and because my hormones and period are jacked up,
...and because I'm some kind of tired most of the time,
...and because I have anxiety that requires medication and even then still flares up from time to time,
...and because...
I feel betrayed by my body.
I feel old before my time on top of feeling fat and ugly and I blame my body for it all, when what has my body ever done for me but LIVED.
My body has been relatively healthy my whole life. My body allowed me to conceive, carry, birth, and nurse two amazing children. My body has taken me on adventures and given me pleasure and really been nothing but wonderful to me from the very beginning.
Not that you'd ever know if from the way I've emotional abused it so often over the years. If my body was a friend, I would tell it to get out of its relationship with me!
So, what prompted this post about body image and diet culture?
It's a funny thing. A few weeks ago, an Instagram friend turned me on to this wonderful Instagrammer @bodyposipanda. Then, last week the negative self talk got so bad that I scheduled an appointment with my therapist (who I haven't seen in months) for her first available slot (not til next week). Then last night I spent an hour reading @bodyposipanda's past IG posts, trying to absorb her philosophy/message. I even went so far as to order her book on Audible so I could attempt to rewire my brain. Then, the tipping point this morning, when someone I don't even know posted a question seeking dieting and weightloss advice in a Facebook group I'm a member of and I thought...
I am not alone.
So many others are body shaming themselves every day. So many others are looking for the miracle diet/weight loss/wrinkle cure plan that will help them "be enough." Because we have all been steeped in this diet culture our whole lives-- so much so that we don't even see it for what it is.
So, today, I'm going to try and start over.
I'm going to try to start saying nice things to my body.
I'm going to try and start rewiring my brain.
I'm going to try and listen to my body and what it tells me about what it needs and wants.I'm going to try to eat the healthiest things possibly for my body--the things that make it feel good and energetic, and move it as much as I can in ways that feel good.
And then
I'm going to let the chips fall where they may.
And I'm going to try and shift the blame and shame, the hatred and anger, off my body and to where it truly belongs: onto the diet culture.
This isn't about letting myself go or eating junk food or laying on the couch all day or being unhealthy. This is about reclaiming my body and my self. This is about taking my power back. This is about being happy and loving life and spending my time and energy on the things that really matter.
Which is decidedly NOT belly rolls or wrinkles.
Join me.
Until next time, love yourself...not thinner or younger or prettier, but just as you are.
xo
P.S. And check out @bodyposipanda (Megan Jayne Crabbe) for some inspiration here:
https://www.instagram.com/bodyposipanda/ or http://www.bodyposipanda.com or https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJU46H9UjvIXLEtAknI9c8g
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