Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Real Women DO Have Curves
Rachel, over at Tales Of My Thirties, posted a link this morning to a New York Times article about fat acceptance. This, of course, got me thinking. It's never pretty when I think before coffee, but here goes.
I am constantly dissatisfied with my weight and with how my body looks. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror, clothed or naked. I can barely meet my own eyes when I have to put on makeup. I have to steel myself, to say "Ok, I'm just going to look at my cheeks while I put on blush, only at my lashes as I put on mascara." I cannot bring myself to look at the whole image reflected there or I immediately start to viciously rip myself to shreds. It doesn't matter if anyone is standing there to hear me or not - I can't seem to stop myself. I've horrified my husband on more than one occasion with the nastiness of the words coming out of my mouth.
It's been this way for as long as I can remember. In fourth or fifth grade, I remember being teased about my butt. I wasn't heavy then, but my butt stuck out a bit because of a weird curve in my spine. Nothing severe, just enough to make my butt more prominent than those of all the white, flat-butted girls in my Catholic elementary school. I spent most of sixth grade being tormented by a seventh grader named Anthony, who christened me Bertha Butt and would holler said epithet across the playground at every opportunity. Needless to say, I was very ashamed of my body.
But this article made me think. Yes, I need to eat better, something I've been working on for the past few weeks. And dropping some of this excess weight I've been carrying around would be a good thing. But maybe I don't need to strive for 125 lbs. Maybe I should appreciate that I am a curvy woman and that even if I was 125 lbs, I'd still have a butt that sticks out. I'd still have a hard time finding trousers that fit (because I did when I weighed 125 lbs). I'd still have a hard time finding button up shirts that wouldn't gape open over my boobs.
So I think that I will still join the Y and I will still eat well, but I think I'm going to try to stop beating myself up and comparing myself to every twiggy little 16 year-old I see. I'm sure I'll fall down at times and start listening to that vile voice in my head, the one with the nasally tones that sound remarkably like that little fuck Anthony, but maybe if I start reading the blogs mentioned in that article and start listening to my husband, who says I look great no matter what my size, I can drown that voice once and for all.
Here's one eye-opener for you. Check out Kate Harding's BMI Project slide show.