When I was a child I had a neighbor. She was pretty tall and rail thin. No hips, no breasts, no curves at all to speak of. And I remember her looking at us (maybe it was my Mom) and lamenting that she COULDN'T gain weight and how she envied our physiques.
Those physiques that we spent endless hours critiquing in subtle and not so subtle ways. "A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips!" "Are you sure that piece of cake is what you need?" "You don't have the body to wear THAT." My mother scribbled fat percentages on the top of every can in our pantry and those emblems remained for years after that fad had passed.
The Atkins diet made a brief appearance but it was never going to survive in our carb loaded historically french household. Our relationships with food and our bodies was always one of comparison and fear.
I remember being 11 years old and 180 pounds and my Mom saying to me, "If you could just stay this weight then you'll fill out and everything will be great." Ironically the BMI states that's the weight I should be now but I did not reach the goal of not gaining any more weight.
My story is one of being too heavy, too tall, too loud, not pink enough, not gentle enough, not demure enough. But I have never heard another person not express struggle over where they land in the land of the physical.
The people that I look at and think, "DAAAANG." Still look at themselves in the mirrors and tear themselves apart. Like that scene in Mean Girls we find these things that mean NOTHING to anyone that cares about us and obsess over it like it's the end of the world.
And I just want to let you in on a little secret: Our eyes are broken when we look at ourselves.
Like so broken we could probably take all the mirrors out of our houses and except for the struggle to put eyeliner on right we'd feel a million times better about ourselves.
You ever had someone ask to take a picture of you and you put it off because you're hair is a mess or you haven't done your make up or your outfit is terrible? But do you realize that when that friend looks back at that picture of you they're not going to see your streaky make up or the fact that your shirt ended up tucked into your love handles. They're going to see you.
Their friend who they love. That person they met for the first time who helped them find an auditorium during a crowded and overwhelming conference. The person who held their hand while they were crying. Who brought them a wildflower at just the right moment without remembering. Who told a ridiculous story to allay their fears of some future thing.
And we need to ask our friends how to look at ourselves when we are using our broken lenses. They'll tell you they love your sense of humor. The way that you dress. The time that you take to talk to them. The way that you ugly cry or get stupid excited over something that is only mildly interesting to others.
And you may be saying right now that can't be true. But think about your friends. Is their physicality or more specifically the perceived flaws in that the first thing that you think about? I doubt it.
So I recommend enjoying your skin. It's the car you drive around. Take care of it. Dress it in nice clothes. Own your flappy arms or your boyish hips or your soft belly. Change them if you want to but don't if you don't want to. You don't have to wait for a moment to be loveable or desirable or to gain the right to be happy and excited in public. And I just wanted to say that.
All bodies hold people. All people have value. Maybe we should be more careful about how we talk to each other and ourselves so that we can remember that fact.
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