THICK AND TIRED

A recent blog presented the annual question of whether or not the Victoria’s Secret fashion show is detrimental to women. How healthy can it be, it proposed, to see such stick figures as the example of what women should look like? Ah yes, the celebration of skinny women is now accepted as the root cause of all self-esteem concerns and the simple fix is to provide more images of varying body-types.  This particular blog points out that models twenty years ago weighed an average of eight pounds less than an everyday woman, and now they weigh an average of over twenty pounds less than an everyday woman. Damn skinny bitches. We all love to hate them.

In my line of work, I know a thing or two about women and body image. Forty to fifty hours a week, I am standing right next to every Miss Smith and Mrs. Anderson as she looks in the mirror and for the hundredth time that day tells me why the very great shirt she has on isn't going to work, because she is too fat … or the jeans aren't going to work because she is too old … or why the jacket she loves in not practical because it draws attention to her thighs. Lord have mercy, if one. more. woman. tells me she has this super unique problem that I could never understand, which is that she carries weight in her thighs, I might lose it. You are not unique; you are a female. GASP – all females carry weight in their thighs. And what’s worse is that if I give an honest, genuine compliment to any one of the hundreds of women I work with in a given week, I am subject to a throw-down of thigh-proportions. “You’re just saying that”, “Easy for you to say, you’re skinny” (this one is ALWAYS said to me by someone who is scientifically my same size), “Ugh – thanks, but I really know I need to lose weight”, or there is the classic eye-roll. You know what, Lady? I am trying to be nice and you’re calling me a lying idiot who can’t understand what she’s looking at.

Here’s another layer to this incessant and obsessive need to self-deprecate; I swear to you, women are showing off for each other in groups to see who can hate herself more. It is a badge of honor to prove you’re the most “humble”. When I announce that I think I am hot, when I admit I love my body and want to show it off when I can, I make other women nervous. They laugh. They call me “funny”. Haha – nothing funny about this; I just like myself and don’t have time to think about myself soooooooooooooooo much that I notice everything wrong with my body.

Think I’m insensitive? Consider this: a few weeks ago, a woman came into my store to browse. She picked up a tunic that had been making winners out of those low self-esteem competitors. It looked bad … on everyone. Hoping to keep this train from derailing, I smiled and asked if she was looking for a tunic in particular or would be open to other options. She mentioned she had just liked the look of this piece, and I offered to find something that had the same feel, but might be more flattering, as this one has a tendency to grab in the area she was carrying weight in.

It’s what I do. I am a personal stylist. I help people pick out clothes that are the most flattering.

The next day, I was excited to hear from several community members the woman had written a blog about her experience. How nice! I have gotten thank-you cards, and phone calls, and teary-eyed expressions of appreciation, but never a whole blog dedicated to the hours and hours I put into helping women see themselves honestly and celebrate their bodies.

Except that’s not what this blog was about …

I was accused of being an “anorexic twenty year-old” who doesn't understand what it means to have children (oops!), and needs to eat a hamburger. I was then blamed for the majority of the world’s problems, because it is never ever ever ever ever ever appropriate to talk about a woman carrying weight. Ever. In fact, when I called her and explained I was so sorry for how the situation had been interpreted, she made it clear it is an international rule that we never discuss women’s bodies. And in her “apology” blog, she asserts that even though she maybe went too far in her earlier piece (which included the assertion I should be punched), she wanted to make it clear I had still done wrong.

Let’s be honest: the message wasn't really that it is never okay to talk about a woman’s body, only that it is terribly wrong to talk about a woman who isn't skinny’s body. This very blog, that went on and on about my crime, clearly discussed my body and how horrible it was. Legions of stay-at-home moms gleefully joined in the bullying, commenting on her page about how it was “about time”.  It is about time for what, exactly? To swing the pendulum of whose body we hate most? To insure that thin women get what they had coming? To propose that the best way to create positive self-image is to attack anyone who doesn't appear to be struggling with it? To teach heavy women that they should be so self-conscious about their bodies that if another woman discusses it with them, they must assume it is an insult?

Here’s a thought; you want to know how to learn how to love your own body? Learn to love other people’s first. My career has put me in dressing rooms with 65 year-old bodies in bras and cotton undies. I've reached my hands down the shirts of new moms to adjust nursing bras for them. I've tugged at the waistline of size 16 pants, and size 0 pants. I've counseled triathletes to believe they can feel feminine. I've told a grandma she can give herself permission to feel sexy, and a twenty-two year-old to feel okay with leaving sexy behind for professional. I've seen stretch marks, sagging, great muscles, and the distinct tautness of a young woman struggling with an eating disorder. And with every brush stroke on the beautiful canvas that is femininity, I have let go of concerns over my own body.

 Every comment I make about my cellulite is a comment that could have gone towards telling another woman how much I admire her runner’s calves. Every moment staring in the mirror at my tired eyes (ps – if you know a good cream, I am open to suggestions) is a moment I am not complimenting another woman on how she has these great little flecks of brown in her hazel eyes. All those moments spent lost in front of a mirror that no longer showed a twenty-one year-old beauty queen were moments I wasn't telling other mothers that they are beautiful and capable and wonderful.

 Not only did I lose those moments, but when other mothers heard me complain about not recognizing myself anymore, I was enforcing their own demons.  We cause each other to believe that not recognizing yourself anymore is a bad thing. It’s not, Ladies. It’s a beautiful thing to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself; it means you’re changing. And that means you’re living. Getting to buy new clothes when you've “grown” doesn't just belong to school children. Just as my daughter will wear size 8 next year, instead of 7 – I will be wearing clothes next year for a woman who knows more about leadership than last year. It means your soul and heart and very being have experienced the wisdom revealing itself in the soft lines around your mouth and nose and eyes. It means you can see a twenty year-old model and know she is beautiful without thinking you’re not. She is different. She offers something unique in her world, just as you do in yours. Good for her … she is not your enemy.

Maybe, juuuuust maybe, the times we feel like we need the most encouragement to love ourselves are actually the times we need to get over ourselves. Try it. Spend less time this week looking in the mirror. Make it a point every time you want to insult yourself to compliment someone else instead. When someone pays you a compliment, set an example and accept it graciously. If you find yourself in a body-bashing conversation with other women, see what happens if you change the tone and speak matter-of-factually about bodies, the way we do other traits.

The moment you feel jealously, defeat it with appreciation. Let other women be beautiful and see if you don’t notice that there’s less time to analyze whether or not you are. If you have daughters, consider that the best thing for their self-esteem includes a healthy balance of not only reminding them they are beautiful, but setting an example of comfortably acknowledging that other young women are, too.

Will I still have days when I am eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and feeling sorry for myself as golden-haired gazelles prance across my TV and computer screens? Of course. But, if my daughter points to those models and says, “Ooh Mommy, those girls are pretty!”, I won’t jump into a lecture about how that’s not what her ideal needs to be, or call them “too skinny”, or balance her out with photos of curvier women. I’ll tell her she’s right; they are beautiful … and so is she.

Peace.

JNACK