“No one ever asks women if we want to compete in this lifelong beauty contest. Being born female automatically makes us contestants.”
That quote is floating around the twitterverse this morning, without attribution.
I guess I never felt “in” the “contest.” When I was 13 and contemplating getting the haircut that was all the rage, I remember saying to my mom, worriedly, “There’s nothing more annoying than a fat chick with a bob.”
In junior high, I was calling myself a fat chick.
I am sure my mom’s response was some sort of horror, but what I wish she said was, “Fuck that. Fuck everyone and what they think. Be you. Be happy.” (Mom was quite delightfully conversant in vulgarities; I also remember around the same time stubbing my toe and mom standing near me saying, “Say FUCK! It will fee so much better!”) She said as much to me in many other ways since, as we both grew. But when I was 13, my parents sat me down and told me what a miserable life I would have being overweight. The message I got was as long as I was fat, no one would love me.
That summer, I did a terrible thing: I told my friend – the one who wanted to help me lose weight – I had stomach cancer. That way, I’d be forced to lose weight. Well, I didn’t. Word got around. And I went into high school as the girl who lied about having cancer.
Later, in my sophomore year of college, I was walking to a bar between two friends of mine. We could hear guys behind us talking about us, about our appearance, and one guy said to the other, “Forget the girl in the middle.” “Yeah, forget the one in the middle,” his friend affirmed. If I ever thought until that point I was “in” the “contest,” I certainly didn’t after. In fact, “forget the one in the middle” became an anthem for me. I craved being invisible.
It’s only in the last few years, as age creeps up on me and giveashits genuinely ebb, that I can do something completely radical: begin to accept myself as I am. Begin.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still internalize all the messages I am bombarded with or that I can go so far as to say I love my body. (Are any of us allowed to say that?) But at least now, as I craft my life going forward, I can carve the way to that place because I am finally, finally on my side.
June 13, 2011 at 12:32 pm |
Beautiful. Brave. Powerful. What a painful story. Thank you for sharing.
June 13, 2011 at 3:42 pm |
Ironic that the “ad from google” on this page is for weight loss with Jillian Michaels. Ironic and sad.
June 13, 2011 at 3:45 pm |
Yay for finally being on your side!
June 13, 2011 at 4:29 pm |
I love the ad at the top. What I would add to the end of the quote is that, often, those 8 supervmodels don’t even look like the pictures of themselves in the magazines. They’ve been photoshopped into completely unattainable bodies!
I hope someday you can honestly say, I love my body.
June 14, 2011 at 7:58 am |
Another great one!! You’re really speaking my language lately. I keep trying the weight loss thing and now that I’ve started my site, I guess I’m really in the game. (However, you’ll probably note that most of my reviews are VERY negative toward these plans!)
But the thing is that we should all be accepted (and accept ourselves) for WHO we are not how we look. Our world is a sad and superficial one. Keep writing! People are listening!
BTW….can I add this post as well?????
June 14, 2011 at 11:20 am |
thanks, and sure.
June 14, 2011 at 11:11 am |
Parents can be such assholes. I have a Father who pretty much spent my entire adolescence telling me the same thing – that I would be miserable and probably die young if I didn’t lose weight.
Lucky for me, my parents were divorced and my Mum believes in just getting on with life, the way you are, and being happy for all the great stuff you do and have. And I spent more time with her, so my weight was never an issue for me; always an issue for my Dad. Only downside is it took a lot of drama to get him to shut up. But even he and I are back on track now.
Here’s to beginning where you want to be. Cheers.
June 14, 2011 at 11:19 am |
I think my parents were coming from a good place – merely transmitting messages they had always been given and internalized. They certainly didn’t harp on it. That’s the only mention of my weight from them I can really remember.
June 18, 2011 at 9:27 pm |
I’ve never had any weight issues and yet, your posts about your weight struggles hit my heart so hard, I feel tears at the corners of my eyes. I realize it’s the theme of suffering and the right unsaid words. There’s something inside me that I need to visit. As you put it, to “begin.” To begin and continue. I’m very glad to have come across you. You’re helping me. And many others.
June 21, 2011 at 9:50 am |
My parents have always told me its important to have less body fat so that we can live long and healthy lives. They’ve always told me that I was beautiful, but they want my beauty to outlast them and they want me to be able to do everything I’ll ever want to do, which I think is a good and kind way to say things.
I do know what its like to feel “less than” though, I feel less pretty, less interesting, l think it has made me more on the offensive when it comes to protecting my feelings, which is no good.
October 13, 2011 at 11:21 am |
Wow, thanks for sharing such painful (yet V relateable) stories! I’m trying to like my body more (now that I’m more mature), BUT still would like to lose about 15-20 lbs, for my health. All the best, EMMA