Ever since I turned thirty I have had the
irrational fear of starting off the New Year with a brand new tummy. I refer to this little fear as ‘my own personal
Santa Claus gut’. Long gone are the days
when I could sip on a Slim Fast for two days and drop 10 pounds (jeez, I wish I
was the weight I was when I thought I was fat!). Now that I am in my thirties, I have tried to
adopt a healthier relationship with my body, and appreciate the curves that I
have developed. I have also come to
terms with the fact that maintaining my shape is a daily task, and loving my
shape is a lifelong battle. This is all
so much easier said than done.
Why is it so easy to see the beauty in
others, and neglect to see the radiance staring back at us in the mirror? Some days I am my own worst enemy, and no
amount of makeup can make me feel better when my jeans are tight. Since I often
write in my blog about the importance of inner beauty, I decided to try and
practice what I preach.
On the days when I want to burn every pair of jeans I own, and
forever hide in my sweatpants, I turn to one of my favorite books. I have counted on The Good Body by Eve Ensler
to get me through these moments (and the countless other muffin top
catastrophes). I have re-read this book
several times, and even keep it near my desk for instants when I need the boost
of affirmation. Eve Ensler created this
book of monologues to demystify the way women of all cultures and backgrounds
are compelled to nip, tuck, tighten, and lop off parts of their bodies in order
to fit in. She is brutally honest,
funny, and heartbreakingly real in her quest to understand the source of women's
obsession with obtaining physical perfection. The book is based on Ensler's own struggles with her belly, but it's also
a script that includes years of research and a series of intimate conversations
with women from over the world. Every time I read this book I feel less
inclined to grab at my wobbly bits in disgust.
I read this book, look at my body and am thankful that it is
strong.
“This play is an expression of my hope, my desire, that we will
all refuse to be Barbie, that we will say no to the loss of the particular,
whether it be to a voluptuous woman in a silk sari, or a woman with defining
lines of character in her face, or a distinguishing nose, or olive toned skin,
or wild curly hair. I am stepping off the capitalist treadmill. I am going to
take a deep breath and find a way to survive not being flat or perfect. I am
inviting you to join me, to stop trying to be anything, anyone other than who
you are. I was moved by women in Africa, who lived close to the earth and
didn’t understand what it meant to not love their body. I was lifted by older
women in India, who celebrated their roundness. I was inspired by Marion
Woodman, a great Jungian analyst, who gave me confidence to trust what I know.
She has said that “instead of transcending ourselves, we must move into
ourselves.”Tell the image makers and magazine sellers and the plastic surgeons
that you are not afraid. That what you fear the most is the death of
imagination and originality and metaphor and passion. Then be bold and LOVE
YOUR BODY. STOP FIXING IT. It was never broken.”
