Weighing In And Stepping Out On Body Image

Body image is a prevalent focus in media today.  Whether or not it's a Love Yourself theme, or mainstream media pressing people to find beauty in the so-called "perfect" body, we're surrounded on all sides by the concept of body image. I've been contemplating this blog post since I had a conversation with my daughter about loving herself and accepting herself for who she is. I felt like a huge hypocrite on one hand, and on the other hand I felt like I was reaching to save her from struggling with the same self-doubts that myself, and many others, struggle with daily.  I've started to write this blog post five or six times and abandoned it when it started to feel too personal ... too private.

So why the hesitation for this blog post? Because I'm great with sharing funny things on Facebook and don't mind blogging about marriage and kids, but I'm not so fantastic at sharing things firmly marked "Private" in my heart. In a world filled with social media on every front, we tend to see people through a tinted and skewed, even somewhat shiny, veil that is two-dimensional.  On the other hand, we joke about people who use their status updates as a diary and share TOO much.  So where is the fine line between being real vs being too out there? Because I work in the world of indie publishing, I spend a lot of time on social media so I'm active and post regularly and share the trivial things; but there is a limit to what I am willing to share even if I occasionally step a bit outside that comfort zone for one reason or another.  But I digress ... this blog post isn't about social media, so back to the point.

I look at my daughter, this beautiful but petite package, so full of personality, and in the throes of puberty.  God help us all, it's like watching an alien birth out of the innocent, naive baby she's always been.  High maintenance has always been an apt description for this little stick of dynamite, and she's an extrovert. That's not a "language" I speak well. At all. But she's hit that phase where she's unsure of herself, where kids are cruelly hateful about pretty much anything, and where she's more aware of her appearance overall.  She's trying to figure out who she is, and I'm scrambling to know how to encourage her self-confidence and positive body image when it's not something I'm even good at for myself -- hence the hypocrisy.

By the time I hit junior high and high school, I was the poster child for an eating disorder. Childhood experiences left me with a terrible self-image that I kept hidden from everyone, and I was such a textbook case.  It only took that first time of realizing that eating was something I could actually control in my otherwise out-of-control life for me to be in over my head. But no one knew. Later on a few people became aware of the situation through one means or another, but mostly it was a burden I carried on my own.  The few people who did find out thought it was over and done years before it truly was under control. I didn't talk about it, I did my best not to let anyone see. Like many struggling with eating disorders, not eating, or purging what I did, was only a symptom of something much deeper in my psyche.

The ironic thing is that I was never unaware of my problem.  I knew I had an eating disorder, knew that my body image was completely distorted, and I studied everything I could get my hands on in order to understand it all.  I was very careful not to lose too much weight, and to remain unseen with my habits as much as possible.  And even though I was fortunate not to suffer outward physical ill effects, the many years of struggle took a toll on my self-image. Even once I learned to control the symptoms (because the not eating and purging really are just a symptoms of something deeper), I still looked at myself through a distorted veil—still do to be truthful.

I neither need, nor want, people to lecture me about my size, body shape, how I look, or anything else remotely related.  It doesn't help.  In fact, it actually just makes things more awkward and uncomfortable.  Guess what?  I've probably studied more about it than you have unless you're in the same boat—or a psychologist.  Even if you KNOW someone who's struggled with it, it's not the same as actually living it. In the *mumbles* years since I first tripped and fell into those terrible habits, I've rarely spoken about it in depth to anyone. Why?  Because I don't want to be lectured, judged, told "I'd love to be your size", or scrutinized when someone shares a meal with me. If you mention an eating disorder, people immediately begin evaluated how you really aren't that thin or are suddenly are super interested in the food you do or don't eat. I'm already a VERY picky eater, to an extreme, so I do not want more notice. 

**Side note: WHY do people feel the need to comment on what you do or don't eat, how much you do or don't eat, when you do or don't eat? I don't understand the nosiness of always questioning other people's food habits.**

How did I overcome? Physically, the more control I had over my own life, the better I did with the physical aspect.  My husband was a great deal of help, didn't try to push me or cajole me or control me—he just loved me.  Mentally? The best line I heard came from a movie about a girl with anorexia.  

I may never be completely cured, that this disease doesn’t always go away; it’s kind of lurking around, like my Achilles heel, but it’s alright because I’m stronger than it is. I know I can make it. I know I have the strength to save myself.

I've never forgotten those lines, and I never will. I remind myself of them from time to time when it's necessary. I don't think the mental aspect will ever fully go away...I'll just be stronger.

So I have to tread lightly while my little girl is so easily influenced in her formative years.  I want to instill self-confidence and self-respect in her that she is beautiful and perfect the way she is.  I want to teach her that food isn't "good" or "bad",  and that being healthy is about moderation in all things and taking care of yourself—NOT the numbers on a scale.  I don't buy magazines because the pictures are SO unrealistic.  I try very hard not to mention my personal insecurities about my body in front of her.  I haven't always been perfect at it, but I've grown more diligent in recent years.

Summer is a brutal time of the year on body image.  Bathing suits are nature's way of making sure to keep us firmly planted in reality.  Society tells us we need to look a certain way before donning the spandex that never covers the areas we detest most.  Less clothes in summer means less ways to hide the things we don't like.  So do I miss out on enjoying the beach because I'm feeling completely insecure about how I look, or do I suck it up and push through in the hopes that one day maybe I'll be confident to not feel quite so self-conscious?  I dare say it's the latter because I don't ever want her to look at me and know that I didn't jump in the waves with her because I didn't look good enough.  How ridiculous does that statement look in actual black and white?  Screw being "ready" because she's watching me ... and learning. And there's a lot of truth to the old adage, "Fake it 'til you make it!" 

But if you ask me to hang out at the pool with you, or go to the beach with you, no way am I wearing a bathing suit. Going with my family to a beach where no one knows me is one thing, but I don't know that I'll ever reach a point I'd wear a bathing suit in front of anyone I know beyond my husband and kids. Some things never change. 

I'll keep working on that inner voice, that critic who is completely irrational more times than not, and keep working to teach my daughter God made her beautifully perfect just the way she is.