Self-esteem and body image are worlds apart.
I think I have pretty good self-esteem. I consider myself to be funny, kind, possessed of a certain degree of intelligence, and I’m a good listener. But when it comes to my body image, I can tell you, I have pretty eyes. And that is about all I can say on the subject.
I don’t look in the mirror very often. I get dressed and make sure that all my seams are where they should be, I fix my hair, and I put on my makeup. Unless I’m going out somewhere, that’s the extent of my mirror-time, and I try very hard not to look at myself from the side.
You see, from the front, I don’t actually look very large. But from the side . . . it’s not that flattering. My stomach pooks out in the front, the result of shot stomach muscles from four pregnancies, a c-section and, let’s face it, donuts. My tushy pooks out in the back. It’s kind of interesting, actually—it forms sort of a shelf, and then tapers in triangularly down. I haven’t tried carrying anything on that shelf, but at times I wonder if I couldn’t stick a glass of milk back there and safely deliver it to another room.
I blogged a while back about how dressing for your body shape can really do a lot to help you overcome body hatred. I still believe that, and I know I look better when I dress in certain cuts and fabrics. I’ve been working on weeding out the unflattering clothing from my closet and maximizing the ones that fit the best by getting pieces that coordinate with them. But underlying the whole thing is still this discomfort I feel whenever I’m around other people. I find myself playing a little game where I compare sizes . . . “Am I bigger or smaller than she is?” I’m always deeply hurt when I discover that I’m the largest person in a room.
I’m really not sure what to do about all of this. I’m seeking a solution and I usually come up with great ideas as I write, but today I think I just need to get my feelings out in the open and acknowledge them. Dr. Phil says we can’t change what we don’t acknowledge, and I agree. I can’t change myself if I’m not willing to admit there’s something wrong.
I believe that our bodies are gifts to us from God, and that any measure of health we possess is a blessing. My eyesight stinks and there are other parts of me that don’t work as well as I’d like, but I still appreciate this gift that was given to me. But I’m not sure how to translate the gratitude of being alive over to loving my body regardless of its shape. That’s my goal this week, to figure out how to accept the entire gift and not just part of it, and to realize that the strengths I will gain by learning how to overcome this challenge will be just what I need to become the person I want to be on the inside, as well as the outside.
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