The Woman in the Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

Our experiences as a child shape us more than we realize, I think. I had great parents and as normal a childhood as anyone can expect. My mother was a pastor’s wife and full time bank employee, and my father was a fundamentalist Pentecostal pastor. There was a 13 year age difference between my mother and my father, and my father married later in life at 35 (35 wouldn’t be considered later in life by today’s standards at all, but in 1970 when he and my mother married, it was). He was a bit more strict in some of his parental aspects because of the generational gap between them and because of his faith. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Me, at 2, before body issues

Growing up, my father had consistent and unquestionable rules and discipline, which I am thankful for. This discipline was always tempered with love. I learned to respect my elders, developed a strong work ethic, cultivated a strong sense of compassion and empathy for others. The number one rule in our house was “Always treat other people the way you want to be treated.” The golden rule is probably the first biblical commandment my father taught me that I can remember vivid details about the encounter.

Me, at 6, no body issues yet, but OCD already has a firm grip (see biting lip)

Another rule we had in our household was modesty in my dress. This didn’t apply as much to my brother, males running around shirtless didn’t cause uncontrollable lust as much as a young girl showing her skin. I can’t tell you how many times I heard growing up “It’s different for a boy.” I was taught it was wrong to wear anything 2 inches above your knees. Tank tops were frowned upon. Any type of slacks or blue jeans were never acceptable for me to wear. My father didn’t like me wearing culottes, but my mother went to bat for me on that one, as active as I was and as much as I loved sports, it was a necessity to preserve more modesty than playing in a skirt or dress. Clothing that was clingy in any form was looked upon with abject disapproval. Two piece bathing suits were never allowed, and mixed bathing (swimming with members of the opposite sex other than immediate family) was forbidden. My parents were very good to explain why these rules were set into place, and father was never one to say “Because I said so” when I asked him why I was not allowed to do something.

Doing things to make myself look attractive was also frowned upon. Painting my fingernails and toenails was not allowed.  I was not allowed to cut my hair short. My mother fought another battle for me to allow me to cut my bangs and trim the ends of my hair, and also to wear minimal makeup as a teenager.  She faced some harsh criticism from peers in my father’s faith and family, as well as her own, for doing so. I will always be grateful to her for doing that, and she will never know how much it meant to me.

Senior Prom, when I thought I was overweight at 5 foot 7 and 130 pounds

But somewhere, in all of these rules and restrictions regarding dress and appearance while growing up, I learned something negative and wrong as a a consequence: I learned to be ashamed of my body as a woman. I will often post funny pictures about body image on my Facebook wall. I love to laugh, and love to find humor in a lot of situations. The other day, I posted a pig lying on a blanket sunbathing next to some attractive women with the caption “How I feel next to my friends.” (See below). Several of my female friends liked the picture as well, probably identifying from it or finding humor in it themselves. Later that afternoon, my boyfriend mentioned the picture. He asked me why I was so self deprecating and negative about my body image. I remember feeling very, very uncomfortable with the conversation. I mumbled something about it being a joke, and his response was that yes, it was funny, but there was something in that picture that resonated deeply within me. I didn’t answer or continue the conversation. I remember feeling anxious, trapped, upset, scared, and about to cry. After the emotions had calmed, I reflected on my response to his inquiry. WHY was I so upset at his probing? This is a man I trust, that I care about, that cares about me and has not done anything to harm my self esteem or image. So why did I have such a powerful emotional response to it?

Because he was right. He was telling the truth. He had touched upon something that deeply bothers me, and I had not even realized how much so, or maybe I had buried it so long I didn’t even realize it anymore. Sometimes I don’t feel pretty. Sometimes I question whether I am even attractive.

From puberty on, I have been embarrassed of my body and ashamed to try and make myself attractive or pretty. My father was not one to give compliments, and never once did I ever hear the words “you look pretty” or “you are a beautiful girl” come out of his mouth. He did not feel it was right to compliment a child too often or make them arrogant. PLEASE DO NOT MISUNDERSTAND ME. I am not angry with my parents, nor am I blaming them for my body image or issues, I am just telling the history of how I arrived to the mindset I have today. A girl NEEDS to hear that she is attractive, especially from her father, and her family members. She needs to know it is normal and acceptable to WANT to hear these things. A girl’s relationship with her father greatly influences the romantic relationships she has with males when she is older.

I remember looking in the mirror as a young girl, teenager, young adult, even a married woman wondering “Am I pretty? Am I ugly? Is my body abnormal? Do I look weird?” because I truly didn’t know if I was considered attractive. I wasn’t allowed to date very much, and everyone in our small town knew how strict my father was with dating, so I couldn’t rely on attention from males or lack of it to judge. Even into my married life, I was self conscious and embarrassed of my body, when I was thin, when I was healthy, and especially when I was overweight. I can remember family beach trips where I dreaded going because I was so embarrassed of being in front of others in a swimsuit. I can remember t-shirts and baggy shorts over my swimsuits, trying desperately to hide my body for fear that others would be disgusted or find me deeply unattractive.

At my heaviest, I weighed 255 pounds. My father had been diagnosed with ALS and was dying. I had quit work and was home taking care of my three daughters and staying with my father during the day. I was taking care of everyone but myself (another tendency of mine). My marriage was failing. I was at a breaking point. I lost 40 pounds after my father’s death due to grief and stress from my marriage, but I was still quite overweight. When my marriage ended in 2012, I weighed 215 pounds. The stress of the divorce and upheaval of the lives of myself and children was more than I could bear, so I began going to run after dropping my children off at school. It was for sanity and stress relief more than anything. I was not interested in dating or men or romance, I just wanted to feel better overall and sleep well.

about 220 lbs. I hated pictures, hated any reminder of what I looked like. I still hate pictures.

I lost 50 pounds in 6 months. I felt better than I had in years. But when I looked in the mirror, I still saw the 255 pound woman. My body image had not changed. I had gone from a size 22/24 to a size 8/10 and did not see a difference when I looked in the mirror. As of today, I have lost a total of 95 pounds since my father passed away and am at a current weight of 160, by no means overweight or fat, yet I still hear the voice of the 255 pound woman when it comes to my body and appearance.

I don’t want my daughters growing up with body image issues like this. I don’t want them wondering whether they are attractive. I don’t want them to place all of their self worth and value in their looks and body, but I do want them to know it is OK and perfectly normal for them to be attractive, to want to be attractive, to want to feel pretty and desired. I can teach them these things AND teach them to be modest as well. There is a balance in all things.

My internal dialogue is still negative a lot of the time. It is a work in progress. I will be taking two of my daughters on a family trip to the beach in 4 weeks. I am extremely nervous and anxious about this, the first one we have taken since the divorce, and since I have been at a healthy weight. I have to purchase a swimsuit for this trip, and that causes a lot of anxiety as well, but I am determined to not let this suck the joy and fun out of this experience. I don’t have all the answers, I don’t know how I am going to overcome this, I just know I will.

I don’t post this blog for compliments or affirmation. Anyone with body issues or self esteem issues knows that compliments can make us uncomfortable. I post this so others can relate, and so others may recognize if they are neglecting to instill positive body image in their children, male or female. If you have children, tell them they do well. Tell them they are attractive. Praise them for their achievements. Accentuate the positive, downplay the negative. Trust me, they need to hear it.

And be prepared for a post-swimsuit shopping and post-beach trip blog.

Just don’t expect pictures 🙂