I first came across the FA movement in October of 07, so for about 10 months I have been making conscious efforts to accept my body exactly as it is -- to treat it well, to love it no matter how different it may be from the ideal of beauty in my head. And, it has paid off in droves. I can honestly say that the majority of days, I look in the mirror and love what I see. Geninely love it. See it as truly beautiful. Even full length mirrors. And, yes, even with no clothes on.
I've come to realize that seeing your body as beautiful is not all that hard when you start seeing other bodies as beautiful that also don't fit the ideal beauty mold. I knew I was growing a few months ago when I spotted a large woman on campus, and commented, wow, that woman is gorgeous. I wonder if she knows how beautiful she is. It occured to me five minutes later that that woman must have weighed over 250 pounds, and that I would have never ever noticed her beauty a year ago.
This acceptance, however, is not with me all the time. I do catch myself secretly wishing to be thinner, even if it's just 15 or 20 pounds thinner. I'm a little ashamed to say this, even though I know it is only human nature to want what seems easier. Even with knowing the dangers of dieting, the limited success in restricting calories, even with the days where I legitimately do not want to lose weight because I don't want to lose my curves and my soft feminine texture...I still have my days. This morning, in my half-sleep half-awake state, I caught myself remembering a moment a few years ago where I had received a few compliments from men (I was about 15 pounds thinner) and a thought flitted through my head - "well, maybe I could get back down to 205 and look cuter like I looked then." I caught myself and thought, "hmpth -- interesting. The thoughts are still there, aren't they?" And I moved on...
The thought made no sense -- I get compliments from men now, probably more because I have gained a lot of confidence in my appearance and I walk taller and take better care of myself and it doesn't matter as much if others agree with me that I am attractive. But, I am human, and it is human nature to not appreciate my life as it is now and to think back to how it used to be. I suppose this is just another step in the journey. I know it is cliche, but there really is no goal -- just the value in the journey itself - the process of growing.
Showing posts with label fat acceptance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fat acceptance. Show all posts
Aug 3, 2008
Jul 20, 2008
My Story
“I want to be a model!” I proclaimed proudly, hair tied up and clipped with a perfectly glued bow, bangs in tightly manicured curls.
“Yeah right, you can’t be a model.”
It was Mikey Dominguez. Fourth grade, Mrs. Stowe’s Social Studies. Mrs. Stowe had just asked the class what everyone wanted to be when we grew up. Mikey wanted to be a pro-basketball player, and yes, I wanted to be a model. It made sense, I was a cute girl after all. And though I was a great student, I was given most praise for my dimples and my resemblance to my beautiful mother. Beauty was valuable in my fourth-grade world. If I learned anything during my nine years of life thus far, that was it. And, what better career could I aspire to than that of a beautiful woman who is paid to be admired.
Mrs. Stowe made Mikey apologize, of course. He hung his head and grumbled the apology, obviously insincere and while the rest of the class was giggling. That was my first moment of being judged harshly for my beauty, or lack thereof. Although I still wanted to be a model, I was suddenly ashamed of myself for thinking that I possessed the beauty that could take me there. Although I had thought of myself as beautiful, it never occurred to me to think that others might not agree. My definition of beauty changed at that moment -- it was no longer enough to think of myself as beautiful, the judgment of others was what mattered.
Thus began my years of self-judgment and my quest to become perfect (i.e. beautiful). Here is a summary of the inner-workings of my middle-school emotional self: constantly comparing myself to girls around me, obsessing about how much prettier they were than me, or how relieved I was to be prettier than them, keeping track of how many boys liked me, how many compliments I received during any particular day. Insults held considerable weight, of course (“your arms look flabby.” “I can see your stomach through that shirt,” “your legs are big and jiggly,” “your cheeks are chubby”) and I believed each one as if it were gospel while ignoring any positive comments. I saw each one as a problem I could fix and control. They weren't judging me, they were helping me out.
The issue of my weight was a particularly sore subject, as it is with many young girls. I was told inheritated my body shape from my father -- strong, sturdy, tall, agile and fast, but certainly not slender. I was a superb athlete, also like my father. I made it to nationals in the junior Olympics three times placing in the 100 meter dash and the shotput throw. I excelled because of my body, was blessed in fact. BUT, I could never see past the big bones. I could never see the benefit of having muscles that easily show their strength. I could never see the benefits of being tall, or being able to beat the boys in my grade at arm-wrestling. I wanted desperately to be like those petite girls in my grade, small and dainty and feminine.
So, I began my first diet. It started out like any other experiment of a 13 year old girl. I was just getting to know my body and I wanted to see what would happen if I only ate a cup of sugar-free jello for lunch. I quickly found out that eating a jello cup for lunch resulted in quick weight loss. I saw my body begin to change, I was losing weight, people were noticing, my clothes became looser, and I became somewhat addicted to the attention to my newfound "beauty." I cut out dinner, and focused all of my energy on distracting myself from my hunger. I ran the bleachers at the local high school. I chewed sugar free gum, went to sleep at 8pm so I didn’t have to smell the tacos and hear my family sitting around the table laughing. My mother supported me in my diet experiment, although I admit she was not aware of the extent of my calorie restriction. I soon stopped having my period, I became moody, unhappy, but I was thin and that was what counted. Here was my final tally: beginning weight – 164lbs (i.e. fat cow), ending weight – 129lbs (i.e. finally normal).
My pseudo-eating disorder didn’t last, fortunately. I realized that my behaviors were unhealthy, and I began eating again. My weight, of course, slowly crept back up. And, it remained a fixed shame in my life – something that I couldn’t control, a barometer for my weakness in will power, a foul mark on my otherwise lovely life. I used to say to myself that I would be perfect if I could just manage my weight. I would have a perfect life, perfect boyfriend, perfect future, if I could just reach 145lbs. I was waiting for my life to finally start, if only I could reach that number that seemed like such an insurmountable obstacle to climb.
The issue of my body grew more complex during college. Again, I spent my time and energy dieting – a healthier diet this time (or so I thought at the time) - weight watchers. I learned how to count points, I learned portion control, I learned the importance of water and I became aware of my habits in eating – and I successfully lost over eighty pounds within a few years. However, I was still not satisfied with my body. Now that I was older and wiser in the world of beauty, I realized it was not simply my weight that dictated my attractiveness and worth in the world, but it was also the shape of my body. I finally reached a size 8, but my breasts were a little saggy. I had stretch marks on my stomach and extra skin on my love handles. My legs were still too big, my cheeks were still too round, my behind was certainly not round enough, and I still did not match the vision of beauty I carried around in my mind for all those years.
I started researching on the web at first. I ran across a few websites that talked about learning to see your body apart from it's shape. I began learning to appreciate my body for the specific qualities it possessed -- how strong my legs are. How flexible I am. How my body is patient with me even after years of my berating it. How my body quickly recoversfrom sickness. How it communicates with me whenever I'm treating it badly, even if I won't listen. My body is remarkable in spite of (or in some cases, because of) my size.
I began looking at myself in the mirror, really looking, without judgment, for the first time in my entire life. I started dancing and learning how to listen to my body's natural rythym. I taught myself about HAES and started trusting my intuition. I began researching obesity, fat acceptance, the supposed health risks of being overweight, and I learned of the various conspiracies surrounding the media coverage of obesity and fat hatred.
And, I rid myself of people who echoed negative judgments about my body and about body types in general. I realized that having such a negative voice around in my life was unfair to myself and unfair to my body. I realized that his issues were his own issues and had nothing to do with me and my body. And, most importantly, I realized that I am in fact beautiful, I always have been, and I deserve someone who can see that.
“Yeah right, you can’t be a model.”
It was Mikey Dominguez. Fourth grade, Mrs. Stowe’s Social Studies. Mrs. Stowe had just asked the class what everyone wanted to be when we grew up. Mikey wanted to be a pro-basketball player, and yes, I wanted to be a model. It made sense, I was a cute girl after all. And though I was a great student, I was given most praise for my dimples and my resemblance to my beautiful mother. Beauty was valuable in my fourth-grade world. If I learned anything during my nine years of life thus far, that was it. And, what better career could I aspire to than that of a beautiful woman who is paid to be admired.
Mrs. Stowe made Mikey apologize, of course. He hung his head and grumbled the apology, obviously insincere and while the rest of the class was giggling. That was my first moment of being judged harshly for my beauty, or lack thereof. Although I still wanted to be a model, I was suddenly ashamed of myself for thinking that I possessed the beauty that could take me there. Although I had thought of myself as beautiful, it never occurred to me to think that others might not agree. My definition of beauty changed at that moment -- it was no longer enough to think of myself as beautiful, the judgment of others was what mattered.
Thus began my years of self-judgment and my quest to become perfect (i.e. beautiful). Here is a summary of the inner-workings of my middle-school emotional self: constantly comparing myself to girls around me, obsessing about how much prettier they were than me, or how relieved I was to be prettier than them, keeping track of how many boys liked me, how many compliments I received during any particular day. Insults held considerable weight, of course (“your arms look flabby.” “I can see your stomach through that shirt,” “your legs are big and jiggly,” “your cheeks are chubby”) and I believed each one as if it were gospel while ignoring any positive comments. I saw each one as a problem I could fix and control. They weren't judging me, they were helping me out.
The issue of my weight was a particularly sore subject, as it is with many young girls. I was told inheritated my body shape from my father -- strong, sturdy, tall, agile and fast, but certainly not slender. I was a superb athlete, also like my father. I made it to nationals in the junior Olympics three times placing in the 100 meter dash and the shotput throw. I excelled because of my body, was blessed in fact. BUT, I could never see past the big bones. I could never see the benefit of having muscles that easily show their strength. I could never see the benefits of being tall, or being able to beat the boys in my grade at arm-wrestling. I wanted desperately to be like those petite girls in my grade, small and dainty and feminine.
So, I began my first diet. It started out like any other experiment of a 13 year old girl. I was just getting to know my body and I wanted to see what would happen if I only ate a cup of sugar-free jello for lunch. I quickly found out that eating a jello cup for lunch resulted in quick weight loss. I saw my body begin to change, I was losing weight, people were noticing, my clothes became looser, and I became somewhat addicted to the attention to my newfound "beauty." I cut out dinner, and focused all of my energy on distracting myself from my hunger. I ran the bleachers at the local high school. I chewed sugar free gum, went to sleep at 8pm so I didn’t have to smell the tacos and hear my family sitting around the table laughing. My mother supported me in my diet experiment, although I admit she was not aware of the extent of my calorie restriction. I soon stopped having my period, I became moody, unhappy, but I was thin and that was what counted. Here was my final tally: beginning weight – 164lbs (i.e. fat cow), ending weight – 129lbs (i.e. finally normal).
My pseudo-eating disorder didn’t last, fortunately. I realized that my behaviors were unhealthy, and I began eating again. My weight, of course, slowly crept back up. And, it remained a fixed shame in my life – something that I couldn’t control, a barometer for my weakness in will power, a foul mark on my otherwise lovely life. I used to say to myself that I would be perfect if I could just manage my weight. I would have a perfect life, perfect boyfriend, perfect future, if I could just reach 145lbs. I was waiting for my life to finally start, if only I could reach that number that seemed like such an insurmountable obstacle to climb.
The issue of my body grew more complex during college. Again, I spent my time and energy dieting – a healthier diet this time (or so I thought at the time) - weight watchers. I learned how to count points, I learned portion control, I learned the importance of water and I became aware of my habits in eating – and I successfully lost over eighty pounds within a few years. However, I was still not satisfied with my body. Now that I was older and wiser in the world of beauty, I realized it was not simply my weight that dictated my attractiveness and worth in the world, but it was also the shape of my body. I finally reached a size 8, but my breasts were a little saggy. I had stretch marks on my stomach and extra skin on my love handles. My legs were still too big, my cheeks were still too round, my behind was certainly not round enough, and I still did not match the vision of beauty I carried around in my mind for all those years.
I started researching on the web at first. I ran across a few websites that talked about learning to see your body apart from it's shape. I began learning to appreciate my body for the specific qualities it possessed -- how strong my legs are. How flexible I am. How my body is patient with me even after years of my berating it. How my body quickly recoversfrom sickness. How it communicates with me whenever I'm treating it badly, even if I won't listen. My body is remarkable in spite of (or in some cases, because of) my size.
I began looking at myself in the mirror, really looking, without judgment, for the first time in my entire life. I started dancing and learning how to listen to my body's natural rythym. I taught myself about HAES and started trusting my intuition. I began researching obesity, fat acceptance, the supposed health risks of being overweight, and I learned of the various conspiracies surrounding the media coverage of obesity and fat hatred.
And, I rid myself of people who echoed negative judgments about my body and about body types in general. I realized that having such a negative voice around in my life was unfair to myself and unfair to my body. I realized that his issues were his own issues and had nothing to do with me and my body. And, most importantly, I realized that I am in fact beautiful, I always have been, and I deserve someone who can see that.
May 6, 2008
Art and Visual Beauty
Art is commonly associated with beauty. In fact, the two words are commonly used as synonyms (a.k.a. "that beautiful sunset is a work of art!"). Many artists over the centuries (and I am referring here, most specifically, to Western artists) have tried to capture this thing, this essence we call beauty.
The topic becomes interesting, however, when we bring in the issue of beauty with regards to the body and the contemporary "ideal" we are all supposed to strive for (a.k.a. tall, thin, blonde, white). It is a given in our society that Barbie is the most beautiful of the beauties. But how have the artists, the "experts" on beauty, those with the rare gift of seeing beauty's true essence, interpreted contemporary beauty?
An interesting example is Fernando Botero, a contemporary painter who has maintained that art's purpose is to bring beauty into the world. His paintings depict large, volumptuous figures. His scenes are billowing and sensuous, colorful and widely appealing.
To Botero, beauty is about form, curves, and volume. The women he paints have wide thighs, ample bosoms, and round rears. However, Botero's isn't a statement about accepting fat as beautiful. He is not an activist demanding equal beauty rights for all. The figures he paints simply depict the beauty he sees in the world. They are in proportion, gloriously feminine, and pleasing to the eye. He has even said that the women in his paintings are not "fat." Many would of course disagree. But, after viewing his work, it is hard not to fall in love with the characters he paints.
Another contemporary artist worth noting here is Laurie Toby Edison. Her book Women en Large offers photographs of large women in a relaxed environment. She approaches the subject with great sensitivity and the women are truly brimming with beauty.
And finally, I will leave you now with a fitting quote from Botero:
"I grew up with the idea that art is beauty. All my life I've been trying to produce art that is beautiful to discover all the elements that go to make up visual perfection. When you come from my background you can’t be spoilt by beauty, because you've never really seen it. If you're born in Paris, say, you can see art everywhere, so by the time you come to create art yourself you’re spoilt – you're tired of beauty as such and want to do something else. With me it was quite different. I wasn't tired of beauty; I was hungering for it."
May 4, 2008
Introduction
Here I am, sitting at my computer, alone in my one bedroom apartment, trying to decide what to write for my very first post. I had the urge to write this blog as a way of expressing myself, my opinions and experiences and just random thoughts, as a way of reaching out to others and leave something of myself behind. Now that it's here, I'm not sure how to start.
I've been on a journey of self discovery for awhile now, a kind of daily conscious effort to be aware of myself and my life and my mood and my feelings and reactions to various life things. But it has intensified in the past 6 months or so, when I shed a toxic relationship and really began analyzing myself. It has been painful, intensely painful actually, but strangely relieving. I'm at a point of peace right now, and am completely alone for the first time in my life, which feels good. Really good.
I suppose I will begin my introducing myself and explaining a little what I want to do with this blog. I'm 27, a native Texan, a grad student studying art (photography) and education, and I will be graduating in a year to where I hope to teach high school students the power of art to heal and ignite a passion in life. I have recently come upon the fat acceptance movement and the HAES philosophy of eating, and it has honestly transformed my life and improved my self-esteem like nothing ever has. I am an avid feminist (not the man-hating kind, the kind that believes women should grab their power, stop giving it away, and contribute to the love of the world). I'm a lover, not a hater. I'm curious, self reflective, and well, like I said, on a journey of self-discovery. So, that is what this blog is about. The issues I will come across, the thoughts that go through my head that maybe relate to others lives as well. A way to connect and grow. I hope those of you who are reading this will grow a little along with me. Until next time...
I've been on a journey of self discovery for awhile now, a kind of daily conscious effort to be aware of myself and my life and my mood and my feelings and reactions to various life things. But it has intensified in the past 6 months or so, when I shed a toxic relationship and really began analyzing myself. It has been painful, intensely painful actually, but strangely relieving. I'm at a point of peace right now, and am completely alone for the first time in my life, which feels good. Really good.
I suppose I will begin my introducing myself and explaining a little what I want to do with this blog. I'm 27, a native Texan, a grad student studying art (photography) and education, and I will be graduating in a year to where I hope to teach high school students the power of art to heal and ignite a passion in life. I have recently come upon the fat acceptance movement and the HAES philosophy of eating, and it has honestly transformed my life and improved my self-esteem like nothing ever has. I am an avid feminist (not the man-hating kind, the kind that believes women should grab their power, stop giving it away, and contribute to the love of the world). I'm a lover, not a hater. I'm curious, self reflective, and well, like I said, on a journey of self-discovery. So, that is what this blog is about. The issues I will come across, the thoughts that go through my head that maybe relate to others lives as well. A way to connect and grow. I hope those of you who are reading this will grow a little along with me. Until next time...
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