Body Acceptance? Get Real.

“It may sound simplistic, but a 2009 study compared people of similar age, gender, education, and rates of diabetes and hypertension and found that body image had a much bigger impact on health than body size.”

In other words, two equally fat women would have very different health outcomes, depending on how they felt about their bodies. Likewise, two women with similar body insecurities would have similar health outcomes, even if one was fat and the other thin.

body acceptance: approving of and loving your body despite real or perceived imperfections

It's a nice idea, but often easier said than done. How can one practice body positivity if they don’t like what they see in the mirror?

1. Start small: Start with appreciation for what your body does if liking how it looks is out of reach for now. Maybe we worry about flabby arms, but think about how they allow to embrace the people you love. Maybe we worry about “thunder thighs,” but think about everything your legs have carried you through in this life. Recognize what your body can do and what you can work toward.

   “More specifically, work out because you love your body and not because you hate it should be considered an achievable goal, not something to add to today’s to-do list that you can check off with ease. It’s a tedious process for many, not a simple mindset change.” —Nia Shanks

2. Be mindful:
   Pay attention when negative thoughts show up. Don't beat yourself up for it. Acknowledge the thought without assigning value to it, and let it float away as if trickling downstream.
3. Affirmations: a declaration of something that is true and used to practice positive thinking One of my favorites: “I’m not messed up; the world is.”
   “I acknowledge my own self worth.”
   “I release myself from outside expectations.”
   
4. Fake it ’til you make it:
   You don't have to believe your affirmations, but with practice and repetition, they'll take root for you. The longer you act confident and practice positivity, the likelier you are to really feel and believe those things.
   
5. Set boundaries: With the holiday season coming up, many are dreading critical comments from their families. Depending on your family's unique dynamics and how many spoons you have on a given day, you can absolutely say, "That is inappropriate and offensive. Do not comment on my food choices." Stand up for yourself. Ragen at Dances With Fat has a lot of excellent resources and scripts for dealing with friends and family who comment on your body and food.
   
6. Recruit “Team YOU”: Team You consists of friends, family, coworkers, community members, and health care practitioners who are kind and supportive in helping you live the most positive and beneficial life you can in the ways that you choose to. It's difficult to learn body acceptance when everyone around you thwarts your efforts, so work on cultivating positive relationships in your life.
   If people who claim to care about you can't get on board with what you need to take care of yourself, then they don't really need to spend time around you.
7. Practice compassion: We're human, and success doesn't happen overnight. Remind yourself that it's a journey, that it's okay to trip, fall, and backslide. It's what you choose to do next—get up and keep going—that matters most.

It's not just new-age, self-help, woo-y, feel-good advice. Science supports body acceptance as a key part of overall well being:

“By learning to value their bodies as they are right now, even when this differs from a desired weight or shape or generates ambivalent feelings, people strengthen their ability to take care of themselves and sustain improvements in health behaviors.” (source)

What actions have helped you on your journey?

Photo Appreciation, Movement, Realism

This post comes from a two-year-old unfinished draft I dug up.

How interesting/twisted is it that I'm happier with grungy, awkward race photos of me than professional photos of me during a dance performance, because my body looks so very different to me through binding athletic wear versus revealing belly dance costumes?

My race photos show me posing awkwardly, grimacing more than smiling, covered head to toe in mud, wearing an ugly bandanna, and looking like something the cat dragged in under terrible lighting conditions and I'm thrilled to post them publicly and tag myself. My performance photos show me beaming and in motion, with gorgeous stage makeup and hair, brilliantly colored costumes and floating silks glowing under spotlights in a dark theater. But because my belly hangs roundly, I recoil in dismay that I don't have the same perfect lines of professional dancers.

Top: Zoe PhotoShopped. Bottom: Zoe in motion

Warming up to my performance photos always takes work. I remind myself that still pictures can never do justice to the full breadth of movement in a performance and that people who know me, who saw me, don't see my body as rotund as I think it looks.

"Isn’t it amazing we can see the beauty in our best friends, sisters, mothers, and aunts without the slightest thought to their flaws . . . but can obsess for hours on our own imperfections? We fixate on our flaws to the point we shirk at any documentation that our round faces and curvy bodies ever walked the earth. No pictures to show how we LOVE, how we laugh, how we are treasured by our families." Click here to read more.

It does say a lot about the messaging I've internalized and still need to deprogram concerning constructed beauty standards.

Define "Transformation"

Transformation photos are highly problematic because success and human worth are not size-dependent, nor should happiness be. Intentional weight loss is not shown to improve health. Intentional weight loss efforts are most likely to result in weight regain.

Transformation photos typically consist of at least a pair of side-by-side photographs of a person purported to display their "progress" or "success," but which almost universally display weight loss over time. Sure, weight loss can be a kind of progress, even if that means progression through an eating disorder, physical illness, cancer, depression, or poverty. But the reasons for weight loss never seem to matter since becoming smaller is so widely viewed as a positive change.

You cannot determine health based on appearance.

In my case, any transformation photos I could post would show obvious weight gain. What they don't show is my recovery from disordered eating habits, untreated depression, over-exercising and under-fueling. Nor do they show that I've completed two half marathons, a 15-mile obstacle race, and several triathlons since I've begun running. They can't show that I've become stronger, fitter, faster, and far healthier since gaining ≈15 pounds (≈half muscle, half happiness) over the last 5 years. 

Weight change does not show wellness.

It's not petty envy at being unable to effectively participate or receive feedback and admiration that fuels my irritation with transformation photos. It's frustration that body size is used as a measure of success without regard for any person's actual health or positive changes in wellness. It's the widespread belief that weigh loss is the ONLY measure of success and that without seeing numbers on a scale decrease, one can only be a failure. Even moderate weight loss is seen as a failure if one hoped to achieve more. This is the message blanketing so-called "health" and lifestyle magazines, TV ads, "inspirational" fitness memes, gym walls, and "fitness" forums.

Body size does not indicate health.

What if instead of posting weight change and body measurements with "transformation" photos, we captioned them with accomplishments such as strength increase, distance goals met, increased energy levels, lowered blood pressure, and improved emotional health? These are things more people can pursue and control, goals more inspirational than statistical outliers largely dependent on genetics and starvation-levels of caloric restriction. Actual measures of health and wellness rather than shallow and false substitutes for health.

Fuzzy

I stopped shaving my legs a couple years ago and my underarms last year. It's too time consuming and makes my skin irritated and scabby, and I'm just not that hairy in the first place. It's visible, but my boyfriends of the time didn't notice until I'd mentioned it.

Though I confess, I feel like kind of a weirdo being the only participant (as far as I can see) with hairy legs at triathlons. But I have no doubt that the egregious amount of time I might spend shaving is much better applied to training and technique. I certainly don't race with any intent to meet conventions that dictate female attractiveness, and a speed improvement of microseconds just isn't worth the effort (or pain). I've read that one purpose of shaving for sport is to remove dead skin cells, but I exfoliate regularly as is.

Is there anyone else?

You are not a naughty child.

Exercise is not punishment. Eating is not bad behavior. You are not a naughty child.

"Moving your body should never be done as punishment and you do not have to earn your food. Some even add “because you’re not a dog” to that statement but I disagree. I don’t make my dog earn his food either. I feed him because I love him and I’m a responsible canine-mom." Read more here.

Be yourself. Enjoy the journey.

I've seen so many people working toward improving their health say "I hate myself. I want to become a different person."

Even I get frustrated when I lose fitness or training isn't going well and often have to remind myself that it [fitness, health, life, etc.] is a journey, not a destination.

To be the runner you want to be, you first have to be the runner you are right now.

To be the swimmer you want to be, you first have to be the swimmer you are right now.

To be the walker you want to be, you first have to be the walker you are right now.

To be the yogi you want to be, you first have to be the yogi you are right now.

To be the person you want to be, you first have to be the person you are right now.

Christian morality and female body image

I've wanted to write on this topic before but couldn't quite find the words or the research to support it. It's worth a read. Here are a few excerpts:

From Plato to Freud to Jenny Craig, the message has been that bodily urges are suspicious because they are base, and that we should suppress them with our higher faculties—the mind or the spirit. The mind is seen to be quite separate from the body today, and the most suspicious of bodies is female.

The regulation of bodies is usually not just about binding their size, but also their boundaries. Women's bodies especially, which are considered to be prone to oozing and leakage, become the site of severe control. 

Learning to love comfort

I've never been very good at fashion, but I definitely got the memo about the importance of wearing flattering clothes and felt "appropriate" shame in looking back at photos of me that weren't flattering.

But seriously, fuck flattering:

Look, you get to dress how you want for whatever reason you choose. You can pick clothes because you like them, because you think they will gain you social approval, because they highlight your shape, because they disguise your shape, because your significant other likes them, because your mom hates them, because you think they are flattering, because you think they are unflattering, or for any other reason. It’s your body and they are your clothes and you are the boss of your underpants and also the boss of your regular pants.

I cannot count how many times I've sighed sadly and put something back on the rack in a store because it wasn't flattering on me, no matter how I loved the color, the fabric, or the comfort of it. But the fact is, you don't have to be pretty:

You don't owe prettiness to anyone. Not to your boyfriend/spouse/partner, not to your co-workers, especially not to random men on the street. You don't owe it to your mother, you don't owe it to your children, you don't owe it to civilization in general. Prettiness is not a rent you pay for occupying a space marked "female."

Body and clothes shaming is shitty. You don't know anything about a person and why they dress a certain way. They're allowed to have different taste in clothing than you do. They're allowed to wear things that are comfortable and that they like, regardless of whether you like it. And people can't always afford new clothing, especially if they've perhaps undergone a recent weight change. Don't be so judgmental.

Several years ago I bought a beautiful flowing skirt for belly dance but had trouble finding a top to match. I happened upon some gauzy fabric in the same colors, and my best friend whip-stitched it onto a nude bra for me. I adored the colors and the flow and was so eager to perform in it with my dance class. But I felt so bummed out when I saw how unflattering the pictures were.

Today is the first time I've been able to go back and smile at how much I enjoyed that costume and performance and prepping my hair that day. So I'm done feeling any kind of unpleasantness about those photos or any others. I may not be slender, but I really like the visible definition of my stomach in the green costume below.

I've also gotten a lot better at choosing and altering costumes, as you can see here:

Most recently, I picked out a cute peasant dress from the thrift store to wear to a Holi festival, which is a Hindu celebration where everyone wears white and throws colored powder at each other that may or may not ever wash out.

I was SO comfortable and colorful and had fun dancing for hours. A friend saw my pictures and asked incredulously if I was wearing a muumuu. No, I told him, it's a peasant dress and was really comfortable and I had a BLAST.

I actually do own a muumuu. I was so taken by the color, the fabric, and the price that I just HAD to have it. It's enormous and billowing and beautiful. (Maybe I'll remember to return and add a picture.) It makes a great cover-up for dance costumes, and I also like to wear it around the house and outdoors with nothing underneath because it's the next best thing to being naked. Definitely not flattering, but it's SO comfortable.

Most days, dressing however I want to is really easy because I have conventionally attractive curves. There are a lot of days, though, that I worry about how I'll be perceived when I choose clothing based solely on comfort. I'm trying to worry less.

Unexpected Side Effects

As a privileged, university-educated, straight-size, fit, able-bodied, middle class, white woman, I would like to whine that my frequent posting about fat acceptance, body positivity, anti-dieting, feminist, activist, and related topics seems to make some men think I'm insecure and soliciting validation when I'm really just spreading information and ideas.

Logic brain understands that these men are tone-deaf and simply don't understand any of the actual issues I write about and probably cannot without endeavoring to do difficult mental gymnastics. Jerkbrain now worries that I come across as insecure and weak and will make me think twice about all the things I post going forward.

Ironically, it's when others declare themselves the expert on my lived experience by telling me I'm insecure that makes me feel unsure of myself. I never knew I had a poor body image or poor self-esteem until men told me I did and patronizingly lectured me about inner beauty and offered their unsolicited opinions to validate my appearance and self-worth. (The fact that their actions were well-meaning does not change or conflict with the previous statement about them.)

A friend once messaged me privately with a page-long lecture about beauty, acceptance, and self-worth, in response to my many fat acceptance posts on Facebook. I explained to him that:

I’m fueled by a lot of anger at having spent most of my life swallowing the message that I'd have to spend the rest of my life battling my weight in order to be happy, healthy, wealthy, or loved, and so much anger that so many others continue to believe this.

Beyond just posting links on my own page and seemingly yelling a lot, I frequently engage in discussion in private groups about weight, health, and beauty with women who haven’t heard it yet and are grateful when they do. (And am also contributing a chapter to an anthology of perspectives on the fat acceptance movement.) 

Personally, I’m bored to death of being told I’m physically attractive, especially by men who are often clearly expecting my gratitude for their thinking so. I know I’m conventionally attractive; it’s boring. I didn’t earn it and don’t feel complimented. I don’t want to settle for reaping the benefits of my privilege without a though and I don’t want a world in which women of different sizes, abilities, colors, etc., have to accept that bigotry either. 

I can silently work to accept that I will never be a "normal" or a "healthy" weight according to the "experts." Or I can teach and remind everyone that BMI is not an indicator of health and should not be used to make policy, and I can influence the attitudes and opinions around me and ultimately convert everyone I know to the "Yay fitness!" party and not have to hear about diets and weight loss and body shame all around. 

I didn’t always know these things or feel this way; I came to them by reading and learning, and others will, too.

Ultimately, we realized he had meant to ASK about my feelings on the subject but in a strange misfire had ended up TELLING instead. Apologies were made and accepted and life went on.

Months later, I posted a selfie with a sign about setting a distance PR in the pool and completing a "Fit Fatty Virtual Event." I received a comment on the photo from another male friend along the lines of "I know you're insecure, but I don't consider you fat, and the people who know you know you're beautiful. Blah blah blah patronizing validation blah blah."

I responded with:

Alternatively, you could ask me what the Fit Fatty thing is about instead of projecting assumptions onto me. It's the name of forums and a Facebook group that are weight-neutral places to discuss fitness from a Health at Every Size perspective and are hosting a virtual decathlon event this year, which is why I'm posting the pictures. 

It's exceptionally rare to find communities where we can discuss fitness free from weight loss and diet talk.

And he deleted his comments before anyone else could see them.

I question whether my response was appropriate, too harsh, or too soft for the comment and the person and whether I should also have added:

1. I'm not fat. I know this and don't need you to tell me so.

2. There's nothing wrong with being fat and I genuinely look forward to the day that I fulfill my dreams of growing up to be a jolly, round Hobbit. (I come from an overwhelmingly obese family [no value judgment, just a fact]; it's really only a matter of time. But by then my body may be able to support competitive amateur weight lifting, and how cool would that be? /tangent)

As often as we think of the perfect comeback far too late, I think I did alright and managed to hide and overcome the shock and hurt feelings that the original comment triggered so suddenly and strongly.

Regarding this, a woman friend pointed out: 

Many women are insecure. Many women fish for compliments; not necessarily consciously. Men develop certain habits and assumptions in response.  

Mentioning weight, shape, diet or exercise is likely to trigger these habits more often than it triggers actual thought about what you posted.

I can't keep myself from judging people who fail to think before speaking.

Things that might have influenced such a bizarre, presumptive, and invasive comment:

I don't feel like I need to explain posts promoting equality, body positivity, size acceptance, healthy behaviors for all people regardless of body size, not judging people based on appearance including clothing size, etc.

When I complain (often at great length) about the obscene prices of gender-specific underwear required for exercise due to my apparently abnormal and grossly misproportioned body, nothing in that complaint is directed at my body. I'm angry at apparel makers for only catering to a paper-thin range of body types and I'm angry at the patriarchy for the fact that good sports bra designs don't even exist and I'm angry at both that I have to spend a minimum of $70 on an essential piece of clothing to support my running and fitness endeavors that only works because I happen to run slowly anyway.

My body is just lovely, but I could write a book about issues of access to safe, enjoyable forms of fitness and even finding exercise clothing in the necessary size, much less being able to afford it. (I wish I had time to write a book. That would be a good book.)

I said this about a photo taken immediately after running a fast mile:

"I fucking hate photos of myself working out and am this close to quitting the challenge because of the photo requirement."

When I complain about photos of my running and post-running because my hair is disheveled, my face flushed, and my body pouring sweat, it's really not a cry for validation and definitely not part of an overall trend of complaining about my appearance. Even as an advocate for body-positivity, surely I am allowed to despise gym and fitness selfies? Or do I have to love and brag about my appearance ceaselessly? I'm certainly capable, but it wouldn't be real and I'd probably lose a lot of friends.

I wish I had some snappy way to wrap this up: Think before you speak, learn to recognize a request for help or reassurance when there is one instead of reading it into random statements and offering help unsolicited, and just fucking Google it.

Weight loss: NOPE!

Content note: weight talk

I quit weighing for No-Scale November and hadn't since. I knew I had a little bit of holiday weight gain because I fucking love egg nog, y'all, but I was working at accepting it from a weight-neutral perspective, which was easy since I knew it would come right off once I got back into my regular fitness routine, so it's not like I really had a lot of mental work to do on the issue.

Saturday someone—a man—commented, "You're losing weight!" in a congratulatory tone, and I shot back nastily, "NOPE!"

"What kind of a twisted world do we live in where the state of our bodies is fair game for comments from whoever feels like making them?"

Because a) Don't ever congratulate people on weight loss, and b) Don't fucking comment on people's weight. Period.

Words and language are powerful messengers and what we say to each other impacts the way we interact with our bodies, especially when it comes to our weight. Often we talk about weight unconsciously, in the social norm women have become accustomed to, but to me, remaining unconscious and complacent in this norm is a form of fat-phobia and perpetuates body hate.

"Oh, well, it looks like you have."
"Hm, thanks."
My outfit was kind of awesome . . . in a stretch-velvet, witchy, 1990s flashback sort of way.

This morning I was weighed at the doctor's office and was surprisingly disappointed to see the number, even though logically it's hardly a significant change, and I still know it will come off easily with my half and full marathon training this year. But I was there today to discuss treatment options for depression, so I was not in a good place emotionally. The weight thing is not a big deal, just uncomfortable, I suppose.

Maybe next time I'll muster the nerve not to look and to ask the attendant not to read it aloud. This is not out of fear of how high it will be but an act of activism to completely quit weigh-ins and find other metrics to measure my health. Because it's really easy to measure harder, better, faster, stronger, and weight is not a way to do so.

Beloved Beginnings, Day 10

Step into the frame.

See the photos that didn't make it here on Instagram.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7
Day 8
Day 9

Beloved Beginnings, Day 9

Self care:

Going to bed as early as I please, even if it's 7:15 local.

There are days I drop words of comfort on myself like falling leaves and remember that it is

enough to be taken care of by my self.

--Brian Andreas

See the photos that didn't make it here on Instagram.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4
Day 5
Day 6
Day 7
Day 8

Beloved Beginnings, Day 8

Something about yourself that you are grateful for:

My perseverance

Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.

--A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

See the photos that didn't make it here on Instagram.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4
Day 5
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Day 7

Beloved Beginnings, Day 7

"'Playfulness is an antidote to Fear' and I think its an antidote to frustration too, and to our inner critic!" I did not enjoy the playfulness theme as much as others. But looking back at what I shot, these are pretty fun after all.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

-George Bernard Shaw

See the photos that didn't make it here on Instagram.

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4
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Day 6

Built Like A Runner

Content note: rambling about body type and weight

Something I think about occasionally but try not to stress over is that I'm just not built like a runner. At least not like the ones you see in the commercials, magazine ads, in-store ads, web ads, the Olympics, or even any of the promotional materials for local races and fun runs. And it's something that's been tripping me up mentally.

It's virtually impossible to change one's body type, and the effort required to do so is not sustainable—neither is the stress by a long shot. I will never be competitive in this sport. It's disappointing because it's just not an option, but mostly I'm happy with the running I do.

I had been worried about the Spartan race because all the participants in ALL the event photos are RIPPED. All of them. And overwhelmingly male. Logically, I know appearance ≠ ability, but the idea is still ingrained in the subconscious, and I was really very anxious.

(Like this chick)

Leading up to the race, I searched and searched for photos of Spartans like me and found this lovely blog (note: contains weight loss narrative).

Then I remind myself that I’m an athlete because of what I do, not what I look like. I remember that people of all shapes, sizes, ages and ability levels will be running alongside me. I remember that the running community, and particularly the OCR set, is one of the most supportive I’ve ever encountered, always ready with a kind word or helping hand when fellow runners need one. 

(Minna)

Out on the course itself, I was pleasantly surprised to see so many women and so many folk at my same pace, whatever they looked like. To be fair, we were all slim and I only saw one chubby guy and one chubby gal all day. The final numbers actually show a total 307 women finishers out of 1300+ participants; I wouldn't have guessed the numbers so disparate.

It's taken as a given that in order to become a better runner, you have to lose weight. Though the charts say I ought to drop about 20 pounds for my height, I call shenanigans. Carrying less body weight might make long-distance running easier in some ways, but I think I'd be much more likely to succumb to hypothermia and/or exhaustion. It might make rope climbing easier but would definitely make the weight-lifting obstacles worse (which I can't even imagine them being any worse than they were; I cried, literally).

I like my body as it is and don't want to lose weight. I don't believe I could ever become a competitive runner, so I'm just trying to enjoy my training. I want to get stronger, and I that I can do.

I run. I'm a runner. Appearance has nothing to do with it.

No-Scale November

I am sad now that I forgot to write about this sooner. I saw someone on Facebook suggest No-Scale November, and I quickly jumped at the opportunity and recruited more friends to join me. The plan is to go 30 days without weighing ourselves (or to look the other way if we must at the doctor's office).

Though I've been practicing intuitive eating under the Health At Every Size (HAES) paradigm for about a year and have no intention of losing weight, even with all my intense exercise, I've still been weighing myself several times a week to prove that I'm doing it "right" and maintaining. There's no reason for it, and though it didn't influence my mood much, it was a waste of time and thought when I could be doing anything else at all.

No-Scale November provided the perfect reason to stop.

I weighed myself on Halloween, saw the number in my usual range, and have since forgotten it. I noticed this month that I've spent less time thinking about my body and more time admiring it in the mirror. I don't believe that it's undergoing any significant changes (I've been eating the same and exercising less), but I do like it more the more that I see it. Rawr.

I didn't know if I would weigh myself again on Dec. 1 to "prove" that I can eat "right," but I had a cool idea of shooting some pictures of my smashing the scale with a hammer for fun and art. Then I had friends who wanted to do it, too, so a few of us are taking No-Scale November a step further and having a scale-smashing party in the first week of December.

But isn't that a huge waste of perfectly good items that could be donated?

Uh, no. Scales don't make people happy and I'd feel sorry for whomever got mine, which was less than $10 from IKEA some years ago and will now serve its higher purpose as capital-A Art. I'll post pictures!

I'm not going to buy a new scale (even though I'm passingly curious about my body fat percentage and whether it's changing the more that I exercise), nor to I regularly check my body measurement or plan to start. The fit of my clothes is all that I need.

Fueled By Anger

In response to a private message that seemed somewhat concern-trolling and presumptuous from a generally well-meaning friend:

I’m fueled by a lot of anger at having spent most of my life swallowing the message that I'd have to spend the rest of my life battling my weight in order to be happy, healthy, wealthy, or loved, and so much anger that so many others continue to believe this. I’m really glad to hear that you think I’m preaching to the choir, but I receive enough other feedback to indicate the contrary. There are still men who prove the point of these articles when they comment on them.

Beyond just posting links on my own page and seemingly yelling a lot, I frequently engage in discussion in private groups about weight, health, and beauty with women who haven’t heard it yet and are grateful when they do. (And am also contributing a chapter to an anthology of perspectives on the fat acceptance movement.)

Personally, I’m bored to death of being told I’m physically attractive, especially by men who are often clearly expecting my gratitude for their thinking so. (This is not actually directed at you.) I know I’m conventionally attractive; it’s boring. I didn’t earn it and don’t feel complimented. I don’t want to settle for reaping the benefits of my privilege without a though and I don’t want a world in which women of different sizes, abilities, colors, etc., have to accept that bigotry either.

I can silently work to accept that I will never be a "normal" or a "healthy" weight according to the "experts." Or I can teach and remind everyone that BMI is not an indicator of health and should not be used to make policy, and I can influence the attitudes and opinions around me and ultimately convert everyone I know to the "Yay fitness!" party and not have to hear about diets and weight loss and body shame all around.

I didn’t always know these things or feel this way; I came to them by reading and learning, and others will, too.

Skin positivity

I gotta share this skin positive blog I just found through Skepchick. With all the body positive messages going around, somehow skin seems to get forgotten.

I’ve had terrible acne all my life until recently getting on some prescription meds, and my body is covered in scars—head to toe—from picking at my skin. I hate it when other people take pictures of me and don’t think to retouch them, because you can believe I spend the time pouring over every one of my shots and skillfully brushing out the red marks.

Some days I’m OK with it because I don’t really see it; others, I worry what people will think, or worse: say. A few weeks ago, I was wearing a bikini top and someone asked if I did suspensions. I asked what she meant: hanging by hooks. Because of the scars on my back. Which don’t even remotely look like that, so wtf?

I put a bandage on my jawline to cover a pimple I'd been picking and was asked if I'd cut myself shaving. I . . . what? My coworkers at least had the decency to respond to the question with looks of horror when it happened.

I had keratosis pilaris flare so badly this winter that I was afraid to take my clothes off. It’s SO much better this summer, but my arms are still bumpy, frequently scabby and bleeding as a result, because I scratch absent-mindedly.

My limbs are constantly covered in bruises—black, blue, purple, green, yellow, and brown—from my weekend activities including trail running, obstacle races, and boffer combat, not to mention my general clumsiness.

My feet are swollen, blistered, and flaky from running, no matter how religiously I apply deep moisturizers. My toe nails are cracked, jagged, and yellow, which ads tell me I should hide but I can only see it as an improvement over black. I love my feet for what they do for me: the miles they put behind me and the abuse they take on the pavement.

And I have stretch marks, but not the kind a woman is permitted to be proud of that appeared with pregnancy and were “earned” through bodily sacrifice. Mine raced across my swelling thighs, hips, and breasts during puberty—universally desirable parts marred by supposedly shame-inducing marks. I missed the memo, though, that I was supposed to hate them and embrace them along with the curves they adorn.

I have a weird red patch, possibly rosacea, on the hollow of my left cheek that's difficult to cover and ruins my blush makeup patterns. I've been asked before why I was only blushing on one side and stared at him like he was an idiot.

Why do people think it's OK to ask about your skin? I'm usually OK in my skin, but other people are the worst.

Missing the Self-hate Memo

There are some instances in which I missed the memo that I'm supposed to hate X about myself and later hear it as a widely accepted "beauty standard," and I'm all like WTF?

Stretch marks are one example, touching thighs another, and freckles. It would be like someone coming up to me today and telling me an hour-glass figure is universally undesirable. It's similar to feeling like an old lady for not keeping up with or understanding popular music (Bieber who?), fashion (ugg boots, animal prints, jeggings, and skinny jeans are abominations), YOLO (carpe diem for dumb people), etc.

There's a weird cognitive dissonance about it, bordering on offense. Sometime in my teens I heard or read people saying freckles are ugly and unattractive. What? My and my sister's freckles are freaking adorable and I totally get a lady boner for people with freckles. I dated some very cute freckled boys in high school and crushed on even more. Remember Lindsey Lohan before the weight loss and drugs? Or Emma Stone-Cold-Fox, though I wish she'd cover them with makeup less. (Tangent: I know freckles are sun damage and I wear ALL the sunblock when I spend time outdoors.)

Men and boys online talk about not liking women whose thighs touch, and I have to assume that's code for gay or necrophiliac. People love to rant about Lena Dunham's despicably fleshiness, too. I haven't seen the show, but she looks to be a straight-size woman in pictures I've seen, and I think her fleshiness is very like mine. (I mean to post the picture of her eating cake naked when I'm not on a work computer.) Or the people who railed at Kate Winslet's fat naked self onscreen in Titanic. (Whaaat??) And I am confused because everyone I've ever met socially would LOVE to see me naked. Yeah, I'm narcissistic, but I'm not lying.

And to all the women using pregnancy as the only justifiable excuse to accept stretch marks, screw you. I got my stretch marks at puberty, across my widening hips and thighs and burgeoning bosom. And those are good things. My figure is fucking fabulous, and so are the marks that come with it, all gifts of growth into womanhood. (And now maybe there needs to be said something about stretch marks from gaining fat, but I'm not sure what exactly. I think they look awesome whatever the reason.)

Sometimes self esteem is not always about making peace with my own flaws because I do not and have never seen any of these as flaws. Sometimes it requires lacking a give-a-damn that a vocal minority of people online (never IRL in my experience) don't like my adorable freckles, banging curves, or the stretch marks upon them.

Has anyone else had this experience? I wonder what women's self esteem would be like if we somehow missed more of these messages.

Who Can Wear Short Shorts?

This is a rambling story about the ill effects of an image obsessed culture and how it affects children. Maybe you can relate.

I like wearing short shorts. And my thighs touch. (Which I’ve kind of always assumed was the normal default body shape for everyone except starving African children, so I was really confused to hear that some men won’t date women whose thighs touch. Are these men gay? I wondered. Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen an attractive person whose don’t. But I digress)

I keenly remember my first instance of body shame happened in the sixth grade when we were first required to dress for gym class on uniform t-shirts and cotton shorts.. All the other 11-year-old girls had skinny, little chicken legs, but I had soft, fleshy thighs. I self-consciously lifted them from the ground when sitting cross-legged so that they wouldn’t flatten and spread so wide.And I'd look around at all the other girls with their skinny, little chicken legs and wonder why mine were so big. I was 11. And I felt bad about my body for looking different.

I wasn’t ever “overweight.” I took dance classes and played soccer and was fairly active for the bookworm that I was (and am). But I was never skinny like we all learned you have to be in order to be pretty. I was terrified to wear short shorts through most of middle and high school and bought matronly knee-length denim shorts instead.

One day I changed into shorter khaki shorts for marching band after school, because this is Texas and it was HOT. They were shorter than my fingertips, but not by much and not tight or showy. As I walked across campus, a couple of older boys called out something to the effect of, “You’re too fat to be dressed like such a hooker.” I tucked my chin down and kept walking.

I learned to be ashamed to show my thighs - in shorts or skirts or swimsuits - because I had more than bones and skin or because I dared to show my body, dared to fail to be properly decorative as defined by the media ideal.

My story isn’t special. It isn’t unique and that is not OK.

• 51% of 9 and 10 year-old girls feel better about themselves if they are on a diet.
• 42% of 1st-3rd grade girls want to be thinner.
• 46% of 9-11 year-olds are "sometimes" or "very often" on diets, and 82% of their families are "sometimes" or "very often" on diets.
• 81% of 10 year olds are afraid of being fat. 51% of 9 and 10 year old girls feel better about themselves if they are on a diet.
• Time Magazine reports that 80% of all children have been on a diet by the time that they have reached the fourth grade.

And it leads to this:

35% of “normal dieters” progress to pathological dieting. Of those, 20-25% progress to partial or full syndrome eating disorders.

Next time you or someone near you makes comments that moralize about the virtue of food or bodies or dieting, stop them. It matters. We’re in this culture together and no one can survive it alone.

Source of statistics above