As I read, I feel ashamed. I am embarrassed by my shallow words. I wonder when I became this girl. This girl who judges herself solely by the size of her waist. When did I become so engrossed in my own appearance? So self-absorbed. How one-dimensional and petty have I become? When did carrying extra weight begin to mean unattractiveness in every sense of the word? When did eating a measly carbohydrate begin to signify that I was an undisciplined, damaged, worthless pig? When did food stop being nourishment but rather a symbol of my deepest weaknesses? When did I stop being me to become nothing more than an insignificant number on a scale?
I know what it feels like to hate your body and in turn hate yourself. I know what it feels like to truly believe you are the most revolting creature on the planet. It seems to be a right of passage that biological females must go through self-hatred at some point in their lives, but some of us just can’t seem to shake it. During my hiatus from this blog I hit an all time low in regards to my self-esteem. Feeling fat, and therefore worthless, I decided to do what I always do when I’m at my lowest and can’t seem to figure my way out of it: I educated myself. I read book after book on the female body, feminism, and women’s history until I understood the reasons for my existing way of negative thinking about myself, and how to change that unconstructive thinking into a constructive cause.
I now understand that “Girls today grow up believing that "good looks" -- rather than "good works" -- are the highest form of female perfection.” We spend our days a slave to the mirror, to the calorie, to a system that is playing on our self-doubt every single day. We pledge blind allegiance to a culture that celebrates only the trimmest, tightest, sagless, bulgeless, lineless, hairless, big-breasted, perfect, plastic unrealistic model that we call “the female body”. This is how we lose ourselves. This is how I lost myself in a weight-loss induces haze. I let myself become sexualized, objectified, and demoralized by believing that I was supposed to fit into some generic mold. It fucks with you.
As women living in contemporary America, we are trained to forget what are bodies were organically made for and what they are capable of. We are the baby makers, the life givers, the strongest sex, and the most in tune to our emotions as well as the emotions of others. We are all amazing women with a lot more to offer than a tight ass. We’ve got to be willing to accept that we were put on this earth for more than our endless attempts to lose weight or cure our acne or get really tan or (insert whatever you want to change about yourself physically here).
I’m not trying to say that we should all stop trying to drop a few pounds when needed I just think we, myself included, need to become more conscious and rational when going forward with such decisions so to not become blindly obedient to a society that glorifies holocaust victims in pageant makeup.
My point exactly.I wish I could take back all the horrible things I’ve said about myself in regards to my figure and other appearance related issues both in this blog and throughout my life. Alas, I cannot change my past. All I can do now is attempt to advocate for young girls that are growing up in this unforgiving world today so they may never have to lose their authentic voice and self-confidence the way I have.
Books you must read if you are in anyway self-conscious about your female body:
Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture, and The Body by Susan Bordo
The Body Project by Joan Jacobs Brumberg
Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth
