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I apologize ahead of time. This entry is pretty much going to be a rant, so I apologize now. But I’m still going to rant.
My daughter’s school has a wonderful program where they adopt a family. Each class adopts a different family, but there is a giving tree with gifts listed for everybody’s families. You donate food and household goods to specific family per room, but clothing items are just all on the tree. Such a good idea, right? Right.
I went today to pick an ornament off the tree, because I think it is a great idea. There was a woman there to do the same thing. We were standing there reading the different gifts requests, when she said, “Size twenty, isn’t that sad?” I said, “No, why?” Her point was that a size twenty listed for a girl was sad. My point was that it wasn’t sad. I informed her that the average size for women in this country from about age 15 to death is size fourteen. Size fourteen is average. Not size 4, or 3, but 14. The woman presisted in her saddness for this poor girl who was a size twenty. I pointed out that maybe she was tall, because I wasn’t making my point any other way. The woman, who was shorter than I was, conceeded that that might be true.
What is wrong with women in this country? We’re supposed to be ashamed if we’re over a certain size? Why? If you’re healthy, and it’s not impacting your body in a negative way, embrace your size, whatever it is. When I was growing up if you were below a size 5, you had to shop in the children’s section, because women weren’t that small. What the hell is a size 0, anyway? I mean, doesn’t 0 mean nothing? Is that the message that fashion in this country is going for, that women must be nothing to be perfect? Is that the message they want us to take? And if we aren’t a size 0, aren’t nothing, if we have substance and hips and breasts, then we are ugly, someting to be pitied?
There are girl’s as young as eight and nine in this country right now in treatment for anarexia. I’ve been to birthday parties where most of the girl children refused cake. Only the girls, a bunch of eight-year-olds refusing cake. Now here’s the real kicker for you moms and dads out there. You can talk healthy to your kids all you want, but if they see you on diets, hear you talk about your body in a negative way, then that’s where they get their self-image.
When my daughter, Trinity, was only two or so, I was standing in front of the mirror in hose and panties and bra. I looked in the mirror and said outloud, “My thighs are fat.” (Actually, they weren’t. I think my thighs are fat at 106, or 140, weight has nothing to do with how I feel about my thighs.) But I said it outloud, and walked away. My daughter, the toddler walked up to the mirror and looked at her own legs, and I watched her look at her body, and frown. I vowed in that moment that no matter how I felt about my body that I would never say another negative thing about it, in front of my daughter, and I’ve kept that vow. When she was eight, she asked me, “Mommy, what’s a diet?” Because girls in her class were talking about it. She has sat at resturants and told the waiter, “No diet soda, diet is a four letter word, and it’s bad for you.” I was so proud. She has an abosolutely wonderful body image. I’m hoping that my attitude will see her through high school and college in health and happiness.
So all you women out there, love yourselves. It’s almost never men who complain about size on women. Men like curves. Love yourselves so our children will learn to love themselves, instead of learning to hate themselves. Though, to be fair, one of the fastest growing groups suffering from eating disorders is colleg age men. So don’t just assume that it’s just a girl problem. I’d hoped equality meant we’d share the best of eachother but women are dieing of heart attacks at an every growing rate, and men are now suffering from eating disorders. Let’s share the best of what it means to be male and female, not the worst. Love the body you’re in, and remember that little ears are listening, little eyes watching. Love who you are, not who you’re going to be ten pounds from now. There, that’s my rant. Gotta go.