I think over the past several months - every since my weight dropped to 138 pounds, actually - it's been pretty clear that a majority of my navel-gazing-type writing has been squarely focused about learning to accept my body.

It's funny what a big realization "goal weight" can be when you're standing in the mirror, looking at yourself in this body, finally weighing what The Man says you're supposed be weighing, and you still think you look just hideous.

Actually, it wasn't funny at all. It scared the ever-loving shit out of me. While I'm perfectly aware of the fact that 138 pounds on a woman who is 5'2 is certainly nothing to be concerned about - I'm at a perfectly healthy weight, obviously - what is disconcerting is that I'm at a healthy weight. What had happened to me that I'd actually stare at myself, as healthy and active and glowing as I'd ever been, and absolutely hate what I saw?

The other day, my boyfriend was standing over me - I was sitting on the edge of a chair and he was standing directly next to me - and bent down to kiss me. He grabbed my face in his hands right after and said, "Jeez. You really have the most beautiful skin. You're such a pretty lady." He wasn't kidding and he didn't say any of this with a sing-song voice. It was sincere, in the moment and he meant every word. He does this a lot. About all sorts of different parts of my body.

(Minds. Leave the gutter.)

I wanted to be able to see myself the way I knew he sees me. There was no reason to continue to behave as though I hadn't earned the break from the self-flagellation. I wanted to feel good about myself, to see myself as attractive. To not waste time thinking about what I should look like as opposed to liking how I do.

Conflicting for me has always been the fact that while I'm making earnest steps to accept my body, I'm incredibly proud of the weight that I've lost over the years. Losing weight gave me a life I didn't think I could have, and even still with the body image battle I do, I am way more comfortable in this smaller body than I was when I was 188 pounds.

That's simply a personal perspective, nothing more, nothing less. I know I sound incredibly harsh when I talk about rejecting the notion of food having control over me, and I'd like to reiterate that I'm not talking about those who struggle with an addiction or other serious conditions that can't be dealt with by simply deciding that you won't let food have power over you. I'm not naive or insensitive. I understand that. For me, understanding that I didn't have an addiction or psychological issue that had me struggling with food, as much as it was me being a product of a society that conditions women not to trust themselves. That was key.

I'm always going to be a strong advocate for women choosing for themselves what path is best for them, rather than choosing to demonize anyone's decision to lose weight, gain weight or neither. I believe you can exist in a happy body image while following South Beach Diet. I believe you can cultivate a lot of personal joy and fulfillment that has nothing to do with a sugar rush while eating a box of Twinkies. I think you can exercise for an hour a day and not hate yourself. I believe these things are possible if we stop giving into our baser, female instincts to search and destroy our fellow ladies.

Women who've never had an ounce of excess fat on their bodies feel as inferior as the women who are fat and if I hear one more fat woman belittle the body image struggle of the thin woman I will pop her one. It's not doing anyone a bit of good.

This is all my way of saying that My Biggest Girl Crush Mo has the most touching post I've read on this issue and for those of you still struggling, too, it's worth your time read the post, the reader comments and the response post.

Posted by Erin at 01:52 PM | filed under: Random