Combatting the Negative

Over the years, I have related to my body in different ways.  A lot of the time, I have simply existed, and tried not to have a relationship with my body because of the shame I felt for being a “big girl.”  I felt inadequate and inferior on a lot of levels.  Much of this stemmed from my mother and her own tortured relationship with her body and food.  She projected her dissatisfaction onto me and I, in turn, have struggled with my size in my own ways, and tried desperately to step out from that oppressive shadow. 

As a kid, I didn’t think much about my size.  I played with the kids in the neighborhood, rode my bike a lot, went swimming, and played softball.  It didn’t occur to me until about 5^th grade that I did not shop in the same stores as my friends at school.  My mom couldn’t keep her belittling comments to herself as we walked thru the aisles of Hills.  “I can’t shop for you in the girls department like the rest of the moms.”  She would hiss at me and my sister in disgust.  I don’t recall ever running into someone we knew while clothes shopping, so I’m not sure why this was such an embarrassment to her.  In her barbed statements I recognized that I should not be proud of my body or its size, but I didn’t know how to make her happy.  (I still don’t but that’s for another therapy session.)

These feelings of inadequacy continued as I hit puberty.  My mother continued to demean me, and as a result, I became sneakier about hiding food/eating the food I wanted.  In eighth grade, I gained a considerable amount of weight, and as a result grew out of a lot of clothes that I had been able to wear at the beginning of the year.  When softball season began for the summer, I could not fit into the pants for my softball uniform that I had worn the previous year.  I wore gray sweatpants to our first game, feeling mortified that I was not wearing the same pants as my thin teammates.  My mother took two pairs of pants home and sewed them together in order to make one pair of pants that would fit me.   She expounded loud and long about this arduous task, which only served to make me feel even more shame and degradation.

Much of my body hatred continued throughout my teenage years.  Mostly I tried to be invisible and ignore the bullies like a good girl should/as I was told to do.   It took all of the courage in my being to go to school.  There were times when I contemplated ending my life because I felt that I was so horrible and disgusting.  Food made me feel better – if only for moments at a time – and I often watched movies after my parents had gone to bed while eating a pint of ice cream.  Looking back on it, my own self-sabotage did not help me.  It only added to the self-loathing when I woke up the next morning and felt guilty for the things I had eaten the night before. 

In my twenties and thirties, I continued to struggle with my size and wish for a fairy godmother to grant me a smaller, normal size body.  Even when I went to pick out my wedding dress, I picked something conservative and concealing because I knew that finding something that made me feel like a beautiful princess really was the fairytale.  That was only for skinny girls after all; I should be glad that I found someone to marry me at all.

Now, I don’t want you to think this is sad or pathetic because in a lot of ways it sounds like that is what my entire life has been like in relation to clothes and food and trying to come to terms with my size.  I have experienced many moments of sheer joy and happiness about being alive, and those are the times that have kept me pressing forward when the darkness came around again.   

These moments are difficult for me to relive and talk about because I am not in that place anymore.  My goal is to move forward and not dwell on the past.  Recently, I came to grips with a lot of the things I had settled for because I didn’t think that I deserved/could do any better.  I’ve taken stock of what works for me and what doesn’t.  And I’ve begun to weed out the “doesn’t” column systematically.  It’s a very liberating process, but it doesn’t happen overnight.  Nothing that’s worth it comes easily.  And here are the truths I’ve learned:

1)    We are not all supposed to be the same size.  Even babies weigh different amounts when they are born – hello!

2)    Hating your body does not change anything.  It never has and it never will.  So I allowed myself to stop doing that.  It really saddens me when I hear my friends doing this to themselves and I try to encourage them not to speak that way.  But we are not all in the same place in regards to our relationship with our bodies.

3)    No one will die from seeing my arm flab or my chunky thighs.  I’ve been seen at the local pool on multiple occasions in my tankini this summer, and no one keeled over dead. 

4)    Fat girls find love too.  (Thank you Jes Baker for reinforcing that concept! Read her thoughts here)  I have found men who appreciate my body just the way it is and don’t expect me to diet or dress in a certain way. (Sorry Dad if you’re reading this).  It’s probably the most affirming truth I’ve learned thus far.

5)    We ALL struggle with our body image.  Be kind to each other.

Despite all of the wars I have waged with my body over the years, I feel that I have finally hit my stride.  I am in a place where I am making peace with my body and allowing myself the grace to exist without apology.  I know I’ve said it before, but I can’t express enough thanks to the women who have already walked this mile and encourage those around them: Virgie Tovar, Marilyn Wann and Jes Baker are my heroes.  I hope that my own voice helps at least one person somewhere along the way.  You won’t know what it’s like until you venture out on that limb yourself.  If what you’re doing right now isn’t working, maybe it’s time to try something new.  I’m definitely having more success these days – and that’s all I need to keep me going J

In conclusion, here is a great song/video from a great movie that has inspired me.  In Legally Blonde, Elle Woods decides to dig deep and challenge the outward image people have of her; she ends up finding herself along the way. 

Theme Song #40: Watch Me Shine -- Joanna Pacitti

 

You may need sunglasses,

Selina

Taking It All Back

About 3 years ago, as I was looking for something in the library, a title jumped out at me: “Fat! So?” by Marilyn Wann.  I couldn’t help myself – I pulled it off the shelf and opened the cover.  I took it home and devoured it in two evenings (despite the fact that I was supposed to be working on my homework for my grad class).  I could say that this book was my salvation, but that would be an oversimplification of what happened as I read.  I was overwhelmed: I couldn’t believe that someone would not only challenge the status quo when it came to our diet culture, but really stick her middle finger in the air and say “you’re full of shit.”  It liberated me in ways I didn’t even really understand at the time and started me on a strange and wonderful journey.    

Joy

Despite this revelation and change of attitude, I know that diet culture has stolen a lot from me over the years.  In hating my body and what it looked like, I lost my joy at being alive in my own skin.  This is HUGE.  Being ashamed of my size affected every aspect of my being.  For years, whenever I was in a new situation in public, I did my best to stay in the background and not draw attention to myself.  I dressed fairly conservatively and tried to hide as much of myself as possible, although I refused to limit my wardrobe to black and black like my friend Sandy had done. 

Since I was limited in my fashion choices to pretty much two stores that carried plus size old lady attire, I used accessories to try and make my outfits more fashionable.  I didn’t wear what I liked; I wore what I could find to fit me.  And that in itself took much of the joy out of fashion and dressing to feel good about myself.  Things are definitely better now than they were when I was in high school but they’re still not perfect.

Self-esteem

Due to the constant barrage of media messages telling every woman that thin is the most important thing, I have developed issues with self-esteem.  It didn’t help that I was told from a very early age by some of my own family members that I was not the “right” size.  My mother never put cookies or treats in my lunch in an effort to control my food consumption.  This only led to sneaking foods that I wanted to eat and then feeling guilty for wanting these things.  I felt like I was letting my family down but as a child I had no way of fighting back.   

I know that many people judge by outward appearance.  I know I do it too because it’s what we’re taught.  That means I am fighting an uphill battle from the moment I meet someone.  It doesn’t matter how intelligent I am, how funny I am, or how loyal and generous I am.  All they see is the rolls of fat and assume that I am lazy and unkempt. 

I saw a quote on Facebook this week:

“If only our eyes saw souls instead of bodies how very different our ideals of beauty would be.” 

I’m hoping that one day soon this quote is more truth than wishful thinking.  I applaud the recent efforts of Jennifer Garner to demystify and ridicule the Hollywood ideals that have plagued our culture.  And I love Melissa McCarthy for being unapologetic and candid.  John Candy and Chris Farley never apologized for their size, so why should she?

Missed Opportunities

Because I subscribed to our societal norms, I didn’t hold any illusions about guys finding me attractive. I knew that it would be a slim possibility.  I went all thru high school without being asked to a dance or even on a date.  I had one long-term boyfriend after high school, and only briefly dated one other person before I met and married my husband.  I knew he liked me, but I could never take a compliment without wondering what the motivation was behind the seemingly nice words.  I settled for someone who didn’t mind that I was fat because I didn’t think I would be able to do any better.  In my mind at the time, that was the best I could hope for in the grand scheme of things.  I didn’t do either of us any favors in this regard and my discontent is one of the reasons our marriage didn’t last.

Medical Issues

I have almost always been mistreated in terms of medical issues.  If I appear in front of a doctor, they always feel the need to treat my “fat” issue, whether or not that is the reason I have come in for an exam.  I’m fairly certain that my fiery strep throat doesn’t have a thing to do with the number on that scale in your hallway but thanks for wasting my time with the lecture.   

This incessant focus held true when I was pregnant as well.  I was treated horribly – as if being pregnant and fat was worse than stage 4 cancer.  I was under the false impression that the “first do no harm” credo extended to mental anguish, but that is nixed if you’re larger than a size 14.  Pregnancy is supposed to be this joyous, magical time as you wait for this little person to arrive --- and yet I did not have much joy at all because of the way I was treated.

Taking It Back

So how do I reclaim the things I have lost to diet culture?  Some of it is impossible to get back; I will not be pregnant again, that much I know for sure.  But in other ways, I have learned to speak out and speak up for myself.  When that physician started to lecture me about my weight when I came in for a sore throat, I got right in her face and confronted her ignorant, opportunistic attitude.  I also spoke to the office manager at the practice because I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.  If someone goes in to see a doctor and brings up diet and exercise on their own, that’s fine.  It is not fine for a physician to assume that it is their duty to lecture those who do not come in for that purpose.

I am also reclaiming my space in the universe, one outfit at a time.  I now have tank tops and shorts in my closet.  I have sleeveless dresses that I do not intend to wear with a cardigan to cover up my arm flab.  If our society has spent at least ten seasons watching The Biggest Loser then seeing cellulite in public should not be shocking.  I bought a tankini and wore it to the local pool this summer.  I did have one teenager call me a “fat bitch.”  I responded by calling her ignorant because that’s exactly how I saw it at the time.  I will not back down or pretend to ignore these rude comments anymore.  Ignoring the bully does not make him/her go away. 

Am I brave and fearless all the time?  Goodness no!  But I refuse to let my joy at living be overshadowed by the misery of counting calories and being hungry all the time.  Life is too short for that!  I am going to wear what I want and eat what I want, and if anyone attempts to give me “helpful advice” I will not hesitate to inform them where they can stick that advice.  I will continue to find inspiration in the women who are unapologetic and speak up loud and long.  It’s long overdue, and I want my voice to be heard along with theirs.  Join us – we need all the help we can get.

And to set the tone for my determination, here's a catchy little number from someone who knows all about negative energy being directed at you:

 

Theme Song #39: 
Shake It Off by Taylor Swift  

I'm taking it ALL back,
Selina

Going the Distance

Over the past few days, I have been inundated with memos from friends on Facebook, listing the things that they are thankful for during the month of November.  Not so very long ago, the priority of paying it forward and versions of “What Would Jesus Do?” wallpapered our society and our collective consciousness.  Yet it seems that this mindset has slowly dissipated, and it made me sad to think that, like so many other important ideals, we grow forgetful and neglect the things that are the most important.

If you follow my blogging at all, 2014 has not been a great year.  At all.  Many times, I found myself relying on people in ways that I never imagined would be possible.  Despite all of the difficulties I have faced, I still look for ways to bless others and pay it forward, whether that means passing on toys and clothes that my boys have outgrown, giving a friend a ride that doesn’t have a car, or watching a friend’s child while they attend a meeting.  I try to find opportunities to teach my own children what my parents taught me at a young age.

I grew up in a household where sharing with others was part of our everyday existence.  My parents always actively supported their chosen church and its missions, both locally and internationally.  Every holiday we had extra guests at the table: friends who didn’t have family nearby, elderly neighbors who did not have any children that lived close, and a whole host of other miscellaneous guests who did not have any other place to go.  At times, this charitable mentality bothered me; I just wanted to spend one Thanksgiving or New Year’s Day without hosting a handful or more of people that weren’t relatives.  Looking back on it now, I can see that it was my parents’ way to share what they had and bless others.

As an adult, I have sought out these opportunities in my own way.  However, some of my recent efforts in this vein have left me feeling disillusioned and disheartened with being charitable to my fellow man.  Let me explain…

On several occasions, I hosted impromptu playdates in order to help out a friend who needed some time to get tasks accomplished without her daughter.  One of these playdates ended up being an overnight event as this friend ended up in the ER.  It upended my plans, but at the time, I tried to focus on the fact that it was a way that I could help her out and I didn’t expect anything in return.  A few weeks later, I needed someone to watch my children.  She demanded that I pay her for her services, pack lunches for my children, and made the whole situation uncomfortable.  At the time I didn’t really have any other options available, but her attitude made me extremely hesitant to assist her with her child care needs.  As a result, I have declined to help her the last two times she has approached me.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I went out of my way to help a friend who needed a ride.  I had previously made plans, but I dropped (almost) everything to be of assistance.  Then, about a week later, the same friend needed help again.  So I made myself available.  Two days later, I got a pretty desperate text message.  This time, I literally cancelled my plans (and activities for my kids) and spent practically all day driving around so that my friend (who cannot drive) could take care of some important business.  All told, over the course of these three outings, I drove over 800 miles.  Again, I wanted to do the right thing.  However, after a silly argument about something unrelated, this friend won’t even respond to my text messages.  It makes me wonder…and I don’t like that feeling.  At all. 

 

As I sit on the brink of this season of giving and being thankful, my heart aches.  Should I continue to give of my time and assist those that need it?  I’m not sure I have a concrete answer.  I want to believe that when I put myself out there that I will not get taken advantage of, or used for someone else’s selfish purpose.  I know that I can live with the choices I have made when it comes to stepping up and volunteering to help others.  It is up to the person on the receiving end to check their own heart and motivations. 

I want to teach my children that we cannot get along in this world alone.  We need to rely on each other for support and assistance.  I have certainly learned quite a bit about that recently, and I will forge ahead with finding those opportunities as they present themselves.

So in honor of the seemingly endless journey we all take – with all of the bumps along the way – here is a tune that is sure to help the miles go by quickly – if only for three and a half minutes. 

 

Theme Song #38: I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by the Proclaimers

 

Looking for a rest stop,

Selina