Complicated

The one where I talk about an issue lots of women (and men) are dealing with today.

Recently, I reconnected with a guy I went to high school with. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. Reconnecting suggests we had a relationship to begin with. The truth is that Rob was a senior when I was a freshman and I can't imagine I was ever even on his radar, which is why I was surprised he accepted my friend request. But he did, and soon enough we were chatting almost daily and discovering just how much we had in common. I'm not lying when I say he's one of the most important people in my life these days. We talk about anything and everything: music and TV shows, travel destinations, past loves, sports, and, by times, we even talk about our high school days—although our experiences are very different. That's actually one of the things I like most about him. He exposes me to angles on topics that I hadn't considered before. We both see things in shades of gray instead of in stark black and white, but his gray is different than mine. And that's a good thing. This past weekend, we were talking about our high school's football team. This year's squad defeated our greatest rival, which is a huge deal as any sports fan knows. And we started talking about how intense that rivalry was when we were in school. One year, it was so off the hook that fights broke out between players on the field and with spectators in the stands. It led to our not being able to play night games against one another for decades. During the course of the conversation, I happened to mention that I'd had a crush on one of his teammates, Will. Rob responded with a bit of insider information that I never knew: Will was into big girls. I immediately had three thoughts run through my brain. One: Huh. I wonder if I actually would have had a shot with Will? Two, which was confirmed by this revelation and other things I'd gleaned from our past conversations: I'd never, ever, ever have had a shot with Rob. I'll touch on the third later on. One thing I need to make perfectly clear is that I was not then and am not now a big girl. So why is that where I went in my head? I can trace it back to my youth. During my formative years, there were two camps of women that were held up as the standards of beauty. The first was the buxom, extremely thin blond like Farrah Fawcett, Cheryl Tiegs, and Bo Derek. The second was the waifish, extremely thin blond like Twiggy and Goldie Hawn. Until puberty, I fit squarely into the latter. I was lean and athletic with not a single curve on my frame. But at around the age of twelve, all hell broke loose and I developed what I now refer to as my European birthing hips. They made me perfectly suited to work in the fields, squat to give birth, and get back up to keep picking vegetables. If I ever made it back to Poland, I'd be a goddess! But I wasn't in Poland. I was in America. No one I saw in movies or on TV looked like me. And it's not like my classmates made it easy to love my new body. I remember teammates mooing at me as I ran drills during basketball practice. By the way, that's exactly what it sounds like. I was on the court, dribbling or shooting, and a group of older girls would moo like a cow really loudly at me from the bench. Why? Who knows. What I do know is that no one in a position of authority ever said a word to them or to me about it. So I just learned to internalize my shame. It didn't get much better as I got older. My first job out of my graphic design program was for a national clothing retailer. While there, I got pretty close to one of our print vendors. In addition to working for us, this printer also had the contract for a national lingerie and fancy underpants company. The models were, shall we say, angelic in their looks. Extremely thin with extremely large boobs. The men all went wild for them and the women were, again, left feeling inadequate. Anyway, this guy let me in on an industry secret. The pre-press guys regularly had to remove track marks from the models' arms, legs, and toes. Their figures were so unattainable, they were resorting to taking illegal drugs in order to stay "heroin thin." And even that wasn't good enough for the men in charge of their marketing. Inches were still being shaved off of inner thighs and arms in the post-production process. So these perfect women weren't even perfect enough. What kind of chance did the rest of us stand? Yes, eventually, we were lucky enough to have role models like JLo and Beyonce enter the scene, but the damage was done for those of us who are older. You can't teach and old dog new tricks, and you can't teach an old woman to love the body she's spent years hating. And even those beautiful women didn't escape criticism. Howard Stern frequently criticized them for having curves and "fat asses." More recently, we have many companies trying to change the way we see ourselves. Plus-sized models are becoming the norm. And here's where my third thought comes in: I don't like it. As a feminist, I firmly believe in empowering women—all women—and giving them the strength, courage, and support to do whatever they want. To feel comfortable in their own skin. But I don't want to see people who look like me, and that horrifies me. I've been brainwashed by unrealistic imagery for so long that I can't see real women as real. I'm disgusted by myself and seeing someone who might look like me makes it worse, not better. It's messed up, I know. I told Rob that my body issues made it hard for me to hear men express an appreciation for thin women. He apologized. But he had nothing to apologize for. It's my issue, not his. And in a way, he's possibly just as big a victim in all of this as I am. Had he not been bombarded with retouched images of unachievable figures, would his perception of beauty be different? Maybe. We'll never know. A Glamour survey showed that 97% of women have a negative body image. And it's not just limited to women and girls. 34% of men are unhappy with the way they look. The pandemic has made things worse, as people are locked down and are spending more time on social media where they compare themselves to others. Eating disorders are on the rise, and more people are reporting being depressed by their body image. I don't know what the solution is. I don't even know if there is a solution. Experts suggest focusing on body- and life-positivity, which sounds good on the surface, but is way easier said than done. I could say that I love my thighs because they're strong and allow me to walk and run and play with my dogs, but the reality is that I still grab the fat on them every day when I look in the mirror and wish that they were thinner. Are you someone who struggles with your body image? Shoot me a message and maybe we can form a support group where we lift one another up. Maybe it'll help to know we're not alone. Take care and peace out until next time.