Size Matters?

I have had a real wake-up call lately. I have recently begun to realize that body image plays a much larger role in my self-esteem than I had originally thought. To be honest, I have always known that I can be very vain, but I never thought that my identity was so closely linked to my physical size and outward appearance.

I considered myself to be rather "enlightened" when it came to body image. I have always been aware of the way advertising and magazines can cause young girls and women to try to "measure up." In college, my roommate Rosanna and I created a "Wall of Shame" in the hall outside our door. This wall highlighted ways that both men and women were objectified in popular advertising, and included visual examples of things such as "body chopping" in addition to statistics about eating disorders and body image. One of my favorite books is a collection of essays from women of all different shapes and sizes about why they love their bodies the way that they are (despite some of the rude comments they get for it). I loved the Dove commercials that had women of all shapes and showed them as beautiful. For years, I ate up anything that showed all women as beautiful, regardless of weight, height, skin tone, etc. I avoided fashion magazines and even tv shows that featured super skinny girls in tight clothing. And still, every time I gained a few pounds, or spent much time with some incredibly fit girlfriend, I would cast myself into a cycle of self-critique and loathing (feeling fat - deciding to exercise more - failing to exercise more - feeling like a failure and hating myself for it - eating comfort food because I was sad - feeling fat, etc.) I don't know why it never occurred to me that all of this was a sign of some sort of deeper vanity that was keeping me trapped in this cycle. ("There is no lie so sly as the one we tell ourselves.")

To be upfront, I have always been in the "normal" range for weight. At times, I have been thinner or more muscular, and at times I have had a little extra weight. But I have never been unhealthy, and for the last ten years or so, have fluctuated up and down in the same eight pound weight range. Yet, for month in high school I stopped eating for a few weeks because the boy I was dating told me how he could feel his ex-girlfriend's hipbones (fortunately, my parents caught on and put a stop to that nonsense). In more recent history, in the six months leading up to my wedding I greatly reduced my food intake with the motivation that I was going to be wearing a backless dress and I didn't want any "back fat."

What brought this whole heart-issue to light is, of course, pregnancy. At first, I was greatly relieved that I would have an excuse to eat more (and wouldn't have to worry about trying to lose those three or four pounds I had gained recently.) Reading through a pregnancy book during my first trimester, I felt pride over the fact that I was not worried about weight gain while the author of the book shared her feelings about no longer fitting into her skinny jeans (meaning the jeans she wore when she felt skinny, not the new style of jeans that makes absolutely no sense to me.) I just knew I was going to feel positive about the way my body looked all through pregnancy. I was going to be more womanly, curvy, and glowing. After all, I am an enlightened woman who believes in natural, realistic beauty. It was going to be awesome.

Fast forward five months. I am now 22 weeks along and have gained about eight to ten pounds. My husband insists that I still don't really look pregnant, and I can still wear most of my normal clothes. And yet, just last weekend, I spent two hours laying on my bed, in a bathrobe, crying because I had nothing to wear. I felt fat and ugly and horrible. Sure, I might not look very pregnant right now, but I don't look thin, either. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I couldn't help it. My self-deception about my body image had finally boiled over to a breaking point, and all I could think about was Kelly Ripa. Yes, you read that correctly. Years and years ago, I saw an interview with Kelly Ripa when she was about to begin co-hosting with Regis. She was five months pregnant, and was wearing a tight red blouse and a leather mini skirt (or, at least, this is how my memory plays it). The interviewer (one of the late show guys) commented on how she didn't even look remotely pregnant. And now here I am, years later, lamenting the fact that I don't look like that.

I decided that day, crying about Kelly Ripa, that I needed to change. I had to fix something inside of me. I was wallowing in shallowness. Everything revolved around me and how I looked! I was internally whining, "Why am I not more beautiful?" (The irony here, of course, is that I do not put a lot of effort into my appearance; I don't wear make-up, most of my clothes have holes in them, and I am on no consistent exercise plan... But I still want to be beautiful. I just don't want to work for it.)

In the midst of this decision to change (and get up out of bed before my husband was convinced I'd gone completely insane) came a memory from camp (like most of the best memories are). I was working at Camp Piankatank in Virginia and there was a cabin full of middle school aged girls who would wake up early each morning and spend hours in front of the mirror putting on make-up and doing their hair. They would come to breakfast primped and pretty, but definitely not ready for an adventurous day at camp! The two counselors in the cabin wanted to do something to help the girls focus more on God and less on themselves. One night, after lights out, they went into the bathroom and taped giant trash bags over the mirrors. They then proceeded to write Bible verses about beauty and vanity on masking tape and adhere them to the covered up mirrors. When the girls woke up the next morning, they were irate. I think one or two of them even cried because they could not put on their make-up. We all debated over whether or not the move was too drastic. But, by the end of the week, there was a clear difference in the attitudes and behavior of each of those girls. They learned to take the focus off of themselves and put it on each other, and on God.

Remembering this, it hit me: there is no difference between me and those young girls. Of course, I don't spend hours in front of the mirror obsessing over every detail (as anyone who has ever seen me can attest to), but I do spend a tremendous amount of time thinking about how I look, or how other people look, or how I look compared to them. The issue at the center of this is the same; an inability to focus on God's value of me as His child, and instead focusing on the worldly value of my physical being. Some people do this by going overboard with new clothing and fancy hairstyles; I do it by constant comparisons and self ridicule. It's definitely a self-centered heart issue. At some point, I ceased focusing on God and instead turned all my attention inward. It's only when we stop looking at God that we have so much time and energy to spend criticizing ourselves or others.

I think one of the reasons this is resonating with me so strongly right now is because very soon, I will be responsible for raising a daughter. I don't want her to ever feel that insecurity about her image, yet I grew up with supportive, loving parents who worked hard to make me feel confident in my skin. I married a wonderful man who always builds me up and tells me how beautiful I am, even when I'm lounging around in sweatpants. Even with all this constant encouragement, I still found a way to feel down about myself. How am I supposed to teach my daughter about positive self image when she will be constantly bombarded with images and advertisements telling her that she is not beautiful enough? That the outward appearance is the key to your identity, instead of the heart? I'm completely overwhelmed by the thought.

This whole last week, while I have been working hard to avoid any self-pity crying parties in my bathrobe, two songs have been resonating in my head. I think they are both beautiful, and are both great reminders that our beauty and our value comes from God, and God alone. I know that no amount of trying is going to make me beautiful. When I said earlier I didn't want to put any effort into it, I want you to know that there is truth in that desire: God gives us value and beauty regardless of how we dress or how often we exercise; if we're a size 6 or 16 or 26. What a freeing thought! This knowledge has enabled me to relax about my growing abdomen, and embrace these (mostly) awesome changes.

Glorious

Beautiful Things

Just for fun, I just found the old file with all of the statistics posted on the "Wall of Shame." These are from 2003, so they might be a bit outdated.

75% of women think they are “too fat”

The estimated size of the weight loss industry in 1994 was $32,680 BILLION

90% of people with eating disorders are women

81% of 10 year old girls have dieted at least once

40% of girls aged 9 and 10 are trying to lose weight

Women only earn more money than men in two job categories: modeling and prostitution

90% of girls aged 3-11 have owned a Barbie doll, an obvious symbol of unrealistic body images

In 1992, women’s magazines contained 10.5 times as many ads related to dieting and weight loss than men’s magazines.

70% of girls want to look like a tv character.

31% of girls have changed their appearance to look like a tv character.

16% of girls have dieted to look like a tv character.

1,000 American women die of anorexia each year.

Eating disorders rank as the 3^rd most common illness among adolescent females in the United States.

63% of high school girls diet to lose weight.

35% of normal dieters progress to pathological dieting.
20-30% of pathological dieters progress to eating disorders.

In a recent study, 16% of underweight women consider themselves overweight, 58% thought their weight was “about right”, and 26% thought they were “slightly” underweight.

59% of average weight women consider themselves overweight.

*all facts taken from www.about-face.org*

So, there it is. I'm not the only who has struggled with body image, but in this case misery doesn't love company. So the question is: besides a lot of prayer, what's the best way to combat this issue in girls and women today? I would love to hear your thoughts!