A Response

A post in response to several comments I got from my post on body image (several were via email instead of posting comments on Blogger). Of course I know the weight and body image is not the real issue...I watch Oprah, you know.

But, the deeper image still focuses on my physical body. Trust me when I say I am confident with the person I am, despite how others may feel about my personality "challenges," I am happy about who I have become and recognize those very things others may find offensive, worrisome, etc. are the same personality traits that make me determined, successful, creative, and passionate.

Now, that doesn't mean I am always proud of my behavior or think I always act the way I should--not so. I do get embarrassed about some of my choices, stressful moments, snaps, and grumbles (examples of this will be found in upcoming posts about our recent vacation). I am happy with me. I am still working on many things, and always will be, but I like me. What I don't always like is my body. Why? Because early in adolescence, I was quite the short and fat kid, and quite frankly, a late bloomer. I remember 7th grade as the worst year for this and I believe that much of my body image issues relate to this time in my life--coupled with choices later in my early years to confuse sex for love (have we had that conversation yet? Maybe not...my dad reads this blog).

In 7th grade, I started to like boys. But, one boy (who I didn't like) was particularly cruel to me. Andrew Cassis, I am sure he is a loser today, but at the time, he was one of the ring leaders of the popular group of athletic boys (I grew up in a very sports focused town). 7th grade is the first time I wore a bra. One day, Andrew Cassis went to snap my bra strap (a favorite past-time of junior high boys) and there wasn't anything there. He took that and ran with it. I finally convinced my mother I needed a bra (even though I really didn't) and she bought me one.

I remember the first day I wore it as I spent probably almost an hour picking out the perfect shirt to wear with it (it was a pink oversized oxford with printing on the back--hey, it was the 80's). I wanted it to show a little, I really did--this was a big moment--but I didn't want it to look like I wanted it to show. I waited for Andrew to see it and he did, and I couldn't wait for him to snap it, hoping I would meet the threshold of acceptance and the taunting would stop. He snapped...and then, taunted me for weeks that I was wearing a bra.

Meanwhile, (on the homefront, I was watching my horny teenage brother treat women like meat and focus on their physical appearance. I would hear him and his friends talk about girls, bodies, boobs, and football--that was it (until one day he became a serious Christian...yet another story for another day). I wanted so bad to have that level of acceptance that the popular kids did and I thought for sure if I was just taller and skinnier, I would. But, I was always on the fringe of the popular group, never right in it. We lived in a very middle to upper class community and competition for material things was steep. I often had many of my schoolmates beat in that department, but somehow got made fun of for it instead of accepted for it.

For example, Jordache jeans were the thing...everyone wore them very tight and cut off with scissors (fringy) on the bottom. My mom wouldn't buy them for me. Instead, I wore Guess jeans, which at the time we had to drive to Chicago to buy. And, the result...they made fun of my jeans. I swear. One day, my dad picked me up at school in his car and an Andrew Cassis groupy happened to see it and guess what? They teased me because my dad's car was an expensive foreign car.

Things continued to get worse during 8th and 9th grade, until I resolved that I couldn't go to the big public high school with these dicks. I didn't play sports, wasn't a cheerleader, had become a terrible student and feared the social pressures of the high school. My parents were very supportive and we investigated several alternatives. Found one and I went. But, some of the same problems persisted (at least in my head). The small private school had a much different culture, but I still was stuck with the mindset that I needed to look a certain way to be popular. While this time I was more in the popular group, I was still a bit fringy because I joined late (these folks had been schooled together at private schools for years). To me, it was most likely my physical appearance that kept me on the fringe.

This sort of started my path during my late adolescence and early twenties of confusing sex for love and acceptance. Not to say I didn't have any successful relationships with guys before getting married, they were not often rooted in love, but rather gaining acceptance. I am sure by now, you get the point and further details forward won't be possible at this point or on this blog because my dad reads this. Maybe one day I can share more about this challenging journey I embarked on from this point forward, which still leaves me concerned about the appearance of my body as a measure of acceptance--and quite frankly, as a means to separate myself from other women in the room, who I have always felt less than accepted by.

P.S. I thought Nicole Richie looked good, but in a recent photo, she now looks horrible and far, far too skinny even for me!