Body Image Part 1

Body Image. Woof. Y’all, positive body image is something that is SUCH A STRUGGLE in our society. Magazines, Instagram accounts, celebrities, TV shows, advertisements, DIET INDUSTRY, etc. - all telling you how to tone up, get into those jeans, and lose 10 lbs in 1 week… It. All. Needs. To. Stop. Even if we think we have a healthy relationship with our bodies, or it’s something we’ve been working on for years, we are still bombarded with messages that tell us we need to do and look better. This is a journey I have been really diving deep into for the past couple years and I want to share that with you. 

Let’s rewind. Throughout my adolescent years, the women in my family constantly talked about their weight, how they looked in a swimsuit, their nth time trying weight watchers, how they just would feel better if they lost 20 lbs. It was the 90s and the diet industry was peaking. I’m sure there are earlier memories that impacted my feelings about my body, but I’m going to start with one memory that stands out for High School Sammie - as it has seared into my brain and started my downward spiral of comparison and insecurity. Sophomore year of high school, I was changing for gym class next to my friend. Another girl in our class commented on her legs, “wow, you really have great legs, look at your quads! And you have a thigh gap!”. My heart sank as I looked from my friend's legs to mine. Why didn’t she notice my legs? I thought I had pretty nice legs, at least. I needily tried to inch closer in hopes that she’d say something about my legs, too… but she didn’t. Were my legs fat? I didn’t have a thigh gap. My quads jutt out a bit more than hers, I guess. I felt the body image woes start to root into my 15-year-old, very vulnerable brain. I physically felt all of my body’s imperfections. I noticed what other girls ate at lunch. I became more interested in the diets I’d heard about. I wanted to lose weight. I wanted to tone up. I wanted the ABS. I wanted to look like the girls in the magazines. I bought ALL the magazines. The thin ideal was all I wanted - was everything that would make me happy.

Damn… the things I would do to get back to that 25-pound-lighter-body… 

Over the last decade or so since then, my relationship with my body has had ups and downs. College roommates that were thinner than me, constant “fat talk” with my friends, and collegiate rowing on a weight-based team, mutually contributed to my insecurities. Though, those things were toxic, in a way. My skinnier friends indirectly made me strive to do more - eat better, do detoxes, run farther. Sometimes, fat talk made me feel better about myself, like I wasn’t the most insecure person in the room. Sometimes, being an athlete made me feel strong, but I constantly compared myself to the thinner, taller, toned girls that had no issues making weight. I got to a point in my life where I was punishing myself with food and exercise. I would do my best to restrict sugar, but I could never successfully do that — I wanted it and when I had it it’d be gone within 24 hours. I would try to work off the calories the next day — always feeling like I was trying to catch up from yesterday. I would get anxious at the idea of a missed work out. I could never win. I never got the toned abs. 

In 2018, while participating in my fifth or sixth challenge in a fitness/nutrition program, I decided that I’d had enough. I was killing myself and I was never going to have the body that I really wanted. Never going to be that slender before and after picture. And even if I did get to finally look like that, working my ass off to eat perfectly, cutting out sugar/dairy/fried foods/alcohol, working out twice-a-day, and feeling bad about going out with friends was not worth looking flawless in a crop top. It was not sustainable. This was also about the time that my husband and I started talking about trying to get pregnant. I knew getting pregnant would mean a growing body. And that having a child meant I needed to change my priorities, be an example, and instill confidence in my child. I needed to be able to practice what I preach. I needed to shift. 

I decided to keep going in the fitness/nutrition program that I was doing, but I was only going to focus on the portion that encouraged you to write down what you loved about your body each day. I ditched the meal plan, but I still meal prepped and ate what I wanted. I continued exercising, but only did one workout a day, and only if it felt right. I gave myself a break and decided to make nice with my body. Just giving myself permission to let go felt really good. And actually, I had never loved my body more. It has been a journey and continues to be a daily effort of self-compassion. I still look at my body sometimes and want to change it - especially 8 months postpartum. But, I’m trying. I’m working on the language I use with myself. I recognize that my healthy body carried a baby for 9 months. I know that my baby girl’s ears and eyes are always listening and watching. I want to be a strong example. So, I give myself breaks. When I’m tired, I rest. If I don’t feel like cooking, we throw in a pizza. I am mindful of what I say out loud and do in the mirror. No big deal. No restriction. No excessive exercise. 

I know that this is all kind of ironic, coming from a thin privileged person. I have only struggled with my weight fluctuating 20 pounds or so (40 if you count pregnancy). I have the money to buy nice groceries and I have endless access to exercise, not to mention the time and energy to make those things a priority in my life. My weight, for the most part, does not affect my daily living or my decisions. I recognize all of that and I see the others that don’t have the privilege that I do. Here’s the thing, though - I cannot tell you of ONE person that I know that has not struggled with their weight or body image. Seriously. Not one. The thin ideal and diet culture DO NOT DISCRIMINATE. It affects everyone - truly. Every single day, every single patient/client/coworker/friend/family member I talk to, I see the impact of the thin ideal and diet culture on their own self worth. SELF WORTH. HOW in the world will we ever get by with measuring our SELF WORTH by our size? How we fit into a pair of jeans? How much weight we can lose? How many rolls our stomach has? We won’t. We can’t.  I have heard too many older women tell me they wish they would’ve spent less time caring about their weight or what they look like and just lived their lives. 

Y’all, this is a true journey. Just the other day, I sent a picture of my postpartum body to my friends and asked “why do I still look 6 months pregnant?”. It’s HARD. This is a mindfulness practice and a work in progress. We have been trained to be hard on ourselves and it’s taboo to be anything but. Get comfortable with being uncomfortable and showing the world you love your body. 

Read Body Image Part 2 for some advice on how to get there!