naked under all my clothes

I've debating long and hard on writing this post, but I figure maybe if I share what I've struggled through then maybe it will make it easier for us to be honest, to choose to think instead of react, to choose how we're letting our culture shape our brains. And then I decided that the post was narcissistic and potential blackmail and possibly self-pitying and therefore a bad plan. And then I read Marisa's fantastic post and decided that maybe, just maybe this was a good idea after all. Especially this bit:

I used to think that a bit of self-consciousness was fairly harmless, but now I realize – it’s a dangerous, paralyzing form of narcissism. It causes us to look with disdain on our flawed humanity and instead chase after an idealized image of perfection.

Wow. Let me think about that for a bit. It causes us to look with disdain on our flawed humanity. This humanity, this skin, this body that I fight with so hard, that I criticize so fiercely, is allowed to be flawed? Because I'm human. Hm.

Last summer I posted about a breakthrough I'd had regarding the wearing of shorts, and you all were lovely and supportive and fantastic. And last summer I lost some weight and everyone was lovely and asked how I'd lost weight and I said "Oh! Having a teenager in the house just makes one very conscious about what you eat. And I've started running again."

Which was partly true.


But you see, when the above photo was taken, when I had just barely managed to zip myself into that size two dress (and only because I'm flat-chested and the skirt was full), when I could pull size eight jeans off the rack and zip them without thinking twice, I wasn't really eating. And when I did eat, I was throwing at least a portion of it back up again.

I got a message from my sister yesterday, "So how have you managed to have the depression gene pass you by?" My mom is bipolar, and depression is something that we all seem to struggle with at times. I told my sister that I try to keep a handle on it with exercise and controlling my environment but then I started thinking about it and realized: that's not true. When the depression attacks me, when stress overwhelms me, I stop eating, I start obsessing, I start sticking my finger down my throat. I criticize my body, I try to look even more perfect, I control the things that don't really matter.

This isn't healthy, and I know it. And I want to be healthy. I have a 19-year-old living with me, and I although I yell at her when she starves herself to lose weight, secretly I'm doing the same thing. I have a 16-year-old who looks up to me, and I no matter how many times I tell her that she's beautiful, and she's lovely, she never quite believes it on the inside. And I understand.

Because no matter how many people tell me I'm beautiful, I don't believe them, not really. They're saying that to be nice. Or because they have to. Yes, I'm illustrating this with pictures of my butt. Because it's a really good example of what I'm saying. See the shot above? That's what everyone sees, and I'm told on a fairly regular basis that I have a nice bum. (Yes, I know: I have weirdly awesome oversharing friends.) But that picture below? The one with the cellulite and the squishiness? That's what I see. That's what I feel. And that's what I know is there, despite the makeup and the nice shoes and the fitted clothes.

Ultimately, I'm not blaming this on the culture. Because we get to choose how much we believe of what they tell us. I don't HAVE to compare myself with the pictures in magazines, but I choose to. I don't have to compare myself with anyone, actually, but I choose to. And then I choose to nitpick and whine and feel inferior.

So I'm throwing this out there: I'm choosing to be healthy. I'm choosing to learn to love my body. All of it. Even my nose and my "womanly curves." I'm choosing this because I'm tired of wasting time obsessing over myself, taking up brain space that could be spent taking over the world. I'm choosing this because I want my beloved E & L to be healthy, too. And they won't know how to if someone doesn't show them. I know I'm going to struggle, because it's much much easier to whine about myself than it is to work at health.

Anyone with me?