I grew up In the era of Charlie’s Angels (crime fighters who just happen to look like supermodels). My parents were both avid dieters, both with undiagnosed eating disorders.
I believed that to be lovable and have value, I had to be thin. I envied women/girls who were skinny and felt disgust (my own projected shame) toward those who were not. I forgot that these women were more than their bodies, smart, funny, feeling, thinking, amazing human beings. My envy and judgement was a barrier to real deep friendship.
And the source of my judgement, the belief that I was never thin enough to win love (even at a size 2), was a weapon I used against my own body, starving myself, exercising as penance for eating, and even making myself vomit, as my own eating disorder escalated into bulimia.
In my early thirties, a beloved friend asked me to stop vomiting. I could feel her love and her worry, and that was all it took for me to stop. Changing my thinking took longer and proved much harder.
The real turn around began in a class on eating disorders in graduate school. The instructor began the class with a video of about 4-5 women with round, soft, bellies, wide tushies, and sagging boobs dancing and singing a song which went something like, “Who says my body’s too fat? Who says my belly’s too large?”
This was my red pill.
I began to read and listen to women who had long explored the role of patriarchy in creating an unobtainable and destructive female physical ideal, one that pitted women against each other and themselves, keeping them too busy, distracted and anxious or depressed to participate fully in civic and professional life.
I began feeding myself, honoring my internal signals of hunger and fullness, learning to trust that I would not restrict food ever again.
I began to move for pleasure and fun, to enjoy being strong for my own purposes.
I began to act lovingly toward my own round belly, wide tushie, and droopy boobs.
I loved and cared for myself fat, far better than I ever had thin.
And nothing bad happened. I was not an outcast. I had a loving husband and great friends (who I could now love without my old blinders, envy and judgement). I created a professional life that worked well for me. Women came to me for help learning to love their own bodies.
When I stopped rejecting myself for being fat, so did everyone else. I realized it had been my own attitude that invited others to treat me badly based on my appearance.
It has been a long and sometimes painful process to shift my own beliefs, but so, so worth it. There is no security deeper than the security we create within ourselves.
I believed that to be lovable and have value, I had to be thin. I envied women/girls who were skinny and felt disgust (my own projected shame) toward those who were not. I forgot that these women were more than their bodies, smart, funny, feeling, thinking, amazing human beings. My envy and judgement was a barrier to real deep friendship.
And the source of my judgement, the belief that I was never thin enough to win love (even at a size 2), was a weapon I used against my own body, starving myself, exercising as penance for eating, and even making myself vomit, as my own eating disorder escalated into bulimia.
In my early thirties, a beloved friend asked me to stop vomiting. I could feel her love and her worry, and that was all it took for me to stop. Changing my thinking took longer and proved much harder.
The real turn around began in a class on eating disorders in graduate school. The instructor began the class with a video of about 4-5 women with round, soft, bellies, wide tushies, and sagging boobs dancing and singing a song which went something like, “Who says my body’s too fat? Who says my belly’s too large?”
This was my red pill.
I began to read and listen to women who had long explored the role of patriarchy in creating an unobtainable and destructive female physical ideal, one that pitted women against each other and themselves, keeping them too busy, distracted and anxious or depressed to participate fully in civic and professional life.
I began feeding myself, honoring my internal signals of hunger and fullness, learning to trust that I would not restrict food ever again.
I began to move for pleasure and fun, to enjoy being strong for my own purposes.
I began to act lovingly toward my own round belly, wide tushie, and droopy boobs.
I loved and cared for myself fat, far better than I ever had thin.
And nothing bad happened. I was not an outcast. I had a loving husband and great friends (who I could now love without my old blinders, envy and judgement). I created a professional life that worked well for me. Women came to me for help learning to love their own bodies.
When I stopped rejecting myself for being fat, so did everyone else. I realized it had been my own attitude that invited others to treat me badly based on my appearance.
It has been a long and sometimes painful process to shift my own beliefs, but so, so worth it. There is no security deeper than the security we create within ourselves.
Our culture objectifies bodies, especially women’s bodies. We learn through the messaging and attitudes that surround us to think of our bodies as objects.
Much of this is sexual. Most diet and exercise advice is aimed at making us f*@%able, but always letting us know we’re not attractive enough.
Some of it is designed to make us into good worker bees. Ignore your cold symptoms. Take daytime medicine and get that project finished.
Through the Attachment Informed Reparenting process, we actively scrutinize cultural messaging to discover how insecurity is manufactured and perpetuated. We work hard at replacing the negative thoughts and habits that come from a lifetime of brainwashing. And the parent within commits to doing what truly feels enlivening, uplifting, and soul-feeding. Our inner parents remain steadfast in loving us, especially when we go against cultural norms.
What belief or habit have you adopted or adapted to that isn’t working for you? What common notions are you ready (or ready to become ready) to question, shift or abandon altogether, in your quest to honor what’s really true for you?
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