"I've always hated my body."
She Said, "
I look in the mirror naked and want to cry. Since having kids it's all so different, stretched, saggy, wrinkled, filled with stretch marks. My breasts soft and saggy, barely there
.
I'm hoping to find a good balance of exercise and eating what I like. Most of all, I long for the day when I can look in the mirror and love my body, truly love it."
My initial, impulsive, response was to write back and tell her that I truly think her body is perfect and gorgeous. Just exactly the slender, lean, graceful ballerina body I've always dreamed of having, small breasts and all. And that answer might have been exactly what she needed to hear, and might have encourag
ed her to look at her body through my eyes and see its unique beauty. To realize its imperfect perfection.
But after thinking about that answer, I realized that when I was in the craziest, darkest part of my eating disorder, and I was restricting food and working out like a maniac and my body was as close as it's ever going to be to my (unrealistic) ideal, if somebody had said those words me, true, they would have felt so good and made me feel loved and beautiful (for the moment). Those words, however flattering, also would have reinforced that in order to be loved and beautiful my body has to look a certain way, that skinny, lean, unsustainable certain way. They would have reassured me that what I was doing was right and good and paying off, that people were noticing and responding positively to my progress, and that I should keep up the effort, the restricting and starving (and bingeing) and exercising, and hating on my body. Those thoughtful words would have propelled me further down the black hole and been one more cold, heavy link in the chain binding me into my own personal hell.
What I realized is that there's no way for me to know what anyone's relationship with food or their body is like, and that anytime I offer well meaning compliments about somebody's body, there is this hidden, terrifying chance that my words of encouragement might actually be perpetuating self-hatred and disordered eating. They might contribute more baggage to an already unhealthy body image. Words offered with love might actually hurt, as they would have to me in the past.
So, what I told her instead is that her body is beautiful now after all the sweet babies. And her body was beautiful before all the sweet babies. I told her that even though the changes to her body are crazy and scary, they don't take away from the beauty and perfection that is who she is. But more than that, I let her know
that she is so so much more than a body.
That she is such an amazing and inspiring mother, and incredibly talented artist, and wonderful friend. I told her that, after all of that, I really hoped she could let her body off the hook (not an easy thing to do) and adore it just the way it is, always, no matter how it is, and that I hoped she might find ease and joy around food.
And then I let her know that if there were ever any way I could help her to achieve any of that, to please message me, because I'm so right there with her. Trying to find my own way through it all.
And I'd like you to know that the same goes for you, too.