Stop Me if You Think You’ve Heard This One Before

It wasn’t a killer morning, by any stretch. I woke up late, disoriented because I’m sleeping in the guest room while Adam suffers through a ferocious bout with bronchitis and hacks his face off, and discovered that we had no water due to the construction on our street. Yes, yes, they TOLD us about it a while back, but who remembers these things? I had to brush my teeth at the office, dry shave my underarms (hott) and stumble around to find something to wear that didn’t require a shower steam to de-wrinkle.

Anyway. While Adam hacked his way through a Z-pack all weekend, I went shopping, and honestly, I don’t know what I expected, but I’m pretty sure it was along the lines of salesperson after salesperson sizing up my newly-sveltish form and announcing with shock and glee, “Oh dear… I think you’re just too tiny for everything we have in this store! We are OUT of size zeros!”

Sigh. I kid. What I really missed, however, was the assistance of my husband who, in his infinitely endearing honesty, would not hesitate to answer me honestly when I posed the question, “Does this make me look…hefty?” That might make people blanch, but considering he’s among the kindest, most complimentary of men most of the time, I appreciate his honesty. Also, every time he tells me I look great, I bask in the compliment, because the guy, he doesn’t make shit up, and he sure doesn’t lie.

Anyway, along the lines of size zero-talk, something Emily said the other day really struck a chord with me, and I hate to even bring this up, but it really fries my pork rinds sometimes, the way women are caught between a rock and a hard place when it comes to weight and body issues. Oddly, this is probably not what you’re expecting, so those on Eating Disorder and Media Screaming Alert can put down your chopsticks and relax. Or not.

Let me preface this by saying that I’ve never had an eating disorder, and frankly, I’ve never really had body image issues aside from the typical 10-30 pounds so many of us struggle to lose time and time again. This probably discounts what I’m about to say to a lot of people, but I’m somewhat embarrassed to report that I’ve always liked myself, and I’ve always been very comfortable with the way that I look. Truthfully, whatever issues I’ve ever had, self-esteem and concerns about my appearance really weren’t among them. If nothing else, I’d be largely unaware of how I looked, even when I gained weight – I never understood how or why the washing machine managed to shrink my clothes (ALL OF THEM), never considering the problem might be my ever-expanding ass.

That being said, my issue is this: It’s frustrating to me that our society is so confused about healthy body image and eating that some seem to universally see it as a negative when people want to make healthier changes and drop a few pounds. Frankly, I think this is an area where too many mixed messages have confused the donuts out of half of America, me included, and I’m not sure where it’s written that wanting to be healthier and more in shape means that you’re succumbing to some sort of media-driven ideal. I don’t want to be Nicole Richie. I want to be a healthier me (Gag me) (Also cue Special K music). I don’t have a size in mind, and I realize I’m not ever going to have washboard abs, or even flat abs, and that’s fine with me. There is a difference, and sometimes it feels like wanting to do any sort of self-improvement of any kind in this area is a massive, red-alert feminism failure (My doorbell is ringing. It’s Germaine Greer!), and entails handing over your soul to the gods of Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen.

It’s not. I liked myself then, and I like myself now. I think a lot of people feel this way, frankly. And while I’m all for embracing your shape at any size, I think that making a change towards healthier habits is a good idea for everyone, no matter what your gender or size, and I hate that it’s considered almost disrespectful to say so. Would I like to be a smaller pants size? Why sure! Who wouldn’t? Does it mean I’m on some sort of slippery slope towards an eating disorder, and does it mean that I’m dealing with uncontrollable bouts of self-loathing because I can’t fit into that Betsey Johnson I fell in love with at the Saks Outlet? Actually, no, but you know it really did piss me off that 90% of the clothes at Saks are designed for a PEANUT, because if that dress was a size 10 or even an eight, I will eat this laptop right here and now. But I digress.

There is no in-between. You’re either too fat, and therefore are unacceptable to society, or you’re careening towards an eating disorder and therefore, also unacceptable to society. You’re only allowed to make healthy changes unless you’re so far out of the realm of the healthy weight range – in either direction – that it’s obvious to everyone, many of whom are horrified and secretly sizing up their own body next to yours, thinking, “Well, at least I don’t look like her.” Oh yes, then you’re allowed to make changes. But the world will gleefully watch as you put yourself there, crowing, “Eat whatever you want! Don’t exercise! EMBRACE your shape!” or, alternatively, “Are you really going to eat that?”

I’m all for embracing your shape. I am. God knows I have to embrace a whole shitload of flaws, both internal and external, every day, and really, I do. I mean, I don’t HUG my thighs every day, but I accept them. And I like them, and they’re fine. But I like them a whole lot more now that I at least feel like I’m taking care of them, even if they haven’t changed all that much since I started exercising and eating more broccoli (my digestive system politely begs to differ, because it feels changes, yes it does).

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, except that we’re kind of all over the place when it comes to this sort of thing. Embrace your shape! (Get smaller thighs.) Eat the quesadilla! (Don’t be anorexic!) Exercise! (But not too much! Don’t get obsessed!). Jesus. No wonder we’re all so flipping confused.

And like I said, I still like myself. But the fact that these jeans finally fit? I like that too.

Yeah, uh, self portraits? Clearly not my forte, and actually, I’m kind of happy about that, given my fear of all things Flickr and Self Portraity. This was a test for something, and is the only thing that came out clear. However, you get the bonus of my Ronald McDonald hair and the ugly-ass gold shoes I bought to match my bridesmaid’s dress for next weekend’s wedding extravaganza. (To the bride: I found another pair. This was just a back up, I swear.)

Also, um, please note that about two hours after this photo was taken, I realized my shirt was on inside out. Or more accurately, my coworker did.

*The Smiths! Of course.

37 comments April 23rd, 2007