A Singular View: Body issues bear weight on both sides
I have two friends who are at opposite ends of the physique spectrum.
One is model-slim. No, not Calista Flockhart-anorexic thin. I know my friend eats. The other has the curves of Emme and other models on the pages of Mode magazine. She�s got the hips, the legs and the other parts that men of a few generations back lusted after � and I�d hope some modern-day guys who haven�t been brainwashed by the Pamela Andersons of the world still do.
Yet, they both have issues with their bodies. Or rather, other people have issues with them.
There�s the obvious camp of people who think or flat-out opine, �You�re too fat. If you ever hope to land yourself the man of your dreams, better drop some pounds and head over to Burdines for a makeover � quick.�
Then, there�s the more insidious group. It�s the people who make the passive-aggressive comments when they see you eat a bowl of pasta or a piece of chocolate: �Oh, you eat?!�
This clique also includes � surprisingly � women. They�re the ones who sear you with looks, sizing you up from head to toe, guessing your weight. Is it envy? Or worse yet, contempt because you actually have the audacity to like your appearance?
After talking with my friends recently on two separate occasions, it struck me as ironic that these supposedly divergent women have something in common. They haven�t fulfilled societal expectations.
I hear their laments and can identify with them.
At a size 8 and 5-foot-2 � 5-foot-3 when the humidity�s at full blast and causing my hair to poof up like Don King, I�m in the middle of that physique spectrum. I�m nowhere near rail-thin or curvaceous. I�m average.
For as long as I can remember, though, I�ve had issues with my own body image. I haven�t been to the beach in years because I refuse to wear a bathing suit.
It�s only been in the last eight months or so that I�ve actually begun to wear shorts again. The impetus wasn�t some goal of attaining golden brown legs for summer. It was to keep myself from having a heatstroke while mowing the grass.
My hang-ups have become fodder for well-meaning friends to joke about. Their jibes are intended to make me realize how irrational I can be.
The odd thing is is that I find myself repeating to my two women friends the same mantras that everyone tries to drill into me: �You�re fine the way you are. If other people can�t handle your appearance, that�s their problem.�
Then, I launch into a bunch of expletives because it angers me.
It angers because we�re basically good people. We haven�t killed or intentionally hurt anyone; we�re independent and self-reliant, but we�re also there for each other.
That doesn�t seem to be enough, though. If you don�t look like Pamela Anderson, then you�re not sexy or feminine enough. If you�re comfortable in your skin and take care of your appearance, then you�re attention-seeking and man-hungry.
It also angers me because to some degree we continue to buy into the message.
How else can I explain my aversion to bathing suits and shorts and my subscriptions to Latina, Self and Glamour magazines?
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