Body and Soul

My morning reading brought me this:

http://www.joyunexpected.com/archives/002224.php

which then led me to this article:

http://blogher.org/perfect-girls-starving-daughters

And, wow. Two thirds of women polled between the ages of 18-25 would rather be mean or stupid than be fat. Rather be mean or stupid than be fat.

I have never been thin. I think I escaped from the womb a little on the bigger side and it just continued throughout my life. I had my moments growing up when well meaning friends or family would caution me to just “cut back a little” or to try out some new diet or pill to bring me on the thinner side to normal, but all in all I never felt fat. I never felt ostracized for my size. Instead, I was proud of my accomplishments and my successes. I was a cheerleader. I had one of the lead roles in the high school musical my senior year. I liked being smart and getting good grades. I learned to celebrate who I was, rather than dwell on my body type. It may have been a part of me, but it was never all of me.

A close friend of mine in graduate school had an eating disorder. She was an attractive, successful, smart girl, but she suffered over her body image. If anything, she had an amazing figure and I marveled at her insecurity at her size 8 frame. I thought she was beautiful. Meanwhile, I was content to live in a size 14. She, in turn, was always surprised by my comfort and confidence in myself, in my own skin. When she asked me once where it came from, I was stumped. I didn’t know.

I know of so many women who spend time moving from one diet to another, searching for that magic cure to their body problems. Starvation to Atkins to diet pills. Anything, everything to be thin. But do they ever reach a point when they are finally happy with what looks back at them in the mirror? Or is it just an ever revolving door of self deprivation and self hatred? Is it ever going to be good enough? And what is good enough? Good enough for me or for someone else’s standards? Who gets to say when?

One of my favorite books is Jennifer Weiner’s Good in Bed. The heroine struggles with her size 16 figure and her own body image. She endures diet after diet, but in the end, at her thinnest, she is also at her most unhappiest. She comes to realize that her happiness was not dependent upon her size, but upon her soul. She learns to appreciate her body for its strength and resilience, rather than on the size of her dress.

I have my moments when I wished I had a different body. I wish I was taller. I wish I had long, luscious legs. I wish my ass would just give birth already and stop looking so pregnant. I wish I could get rid of that pregnancy pouch that bears witness to my three pregnancies. But my body, my figure, my size has not affected my ability to live my life with happiness, with joy. I am able to do all that I want to do and accomplish. I may not look like a supermodel (even one of those so called “plus sized” supermodels), but I like me. I feel attractive. My clothes fit and that makes me happy.

Am I thin? No. But I’d much rather be smart and nice than fit into a size 6. Size 16 looks pretty good to me.