BODY IMAGE DILEMMAS

I am very troubled by the fact that just last year I purchased 3 items at the “Dress Barn” which by inference could make me a cow. I was reared to believe that measurements define a woman’s beauty. My mother, who maintained a perfect figure into her 80’s, was known to cut people out of family photos if, in her opinion, they looked fat. This was how I learned the magic of “invisibility”, disappearing from my body, living in my spirit and mind for the most part. How could I go out in public looking like that? ( no make up, house clothes…) asked my husband; it was easy. When I chose not to appear for myself, how could others see me? My rescued dog, Molly, knew the art of defensive disappearance. When presented with a threat she threw her head in the opposite direction, out of sight, out of threat. Where my body, soul and mind met is definitely canine and like a dog I also wanted to please.

I will purchase groceries along with gas at “Skinny’s” but would drop dead before dining at “Blimpie’s. As a matter of fact, last year I realized the craziness of obsessive skinny culture when I learned that my sister was given diet pills at age 12 (in 1949) to reduce what was probably normal prepubescence. When I was 12, I shared many of the same clothes with my mother; interestingly, I was fat and she was not . Apparently my mother’s generation could be very judgmental about size.

My “body self” barometer was defective. Through the years I agonizingly scanned photos to measure my obesity level. How could a size 9 be gigantic? At the time I always judged myself as ugly, but looking back in time, those same pictures were surprisingly acceptable, almost pretty. This crazy system creates perpetual self disapproval.

My response to the game was giving up. I was a dog, not a cat….and most certainly not a dancer. Actually, dancing had been discouraged in my family. The best way to feel good about myself was to avoid mirrors and to dress in camouflage.

Pregnancy was a relief, a socially acceptable” body hiding.” Infant holding adorned my defective body with a jewel, holding forth beauty to the world. Sad, for me, was the day my babies wanted to walk, proud and empowered in their own bodies.

To find myself I looked in, not out. Integrating my body, mind and spirit is a recent evolution. I notice that as the body gradually abandons you, spirit and mind rise to the forefront. The grand equalizer of aging now bonds me with many previously “perfect body people”. I have seniority in the imperfect body category.

My dogs, my friends are beautiful in spirit. Bodies are a kind of costume; they can be an art form, but they definitely are vehicle for spirit.