Letter To My Body

When I posted an earlier version of this reflection on how we women are too hard on ourselves, a concept I revisit periodically, I was surprised that immediately following the post at my personal blog, two women dropped by to say, "Amen!" It was one of those days when I was writing to speak to myself and not so much to others, reminding myself that I have more work to do on the path of self-acceptance so I can enjoy the view.

When BlogHer asked me to kick off their Letter to My Body campaign back in February, I was excited. Study after study shows that most women living in Western societies are unsatisfied with their bodies. Who can blame us?

Hate your body? Can't bear to look in the mirror? If your answers are yes, stop right where you are and listen to this podcast interview I did last week with Kelly Park.

I've been struggling with a secret, which is this: I'm really, really not in love with my body right now. I have, been keeping it secret for two reasons: 1) it's totally new to me - I've never really struggled with my body image, even after my last pregnancy, which added padding where no padding had hitherto existed, and so it just feels foreign and weird and (obviously) bad, and 2) it also feels so, I don't know, anti-feminist or anti-woman or anti-me (which, really, collapses into a kind of counter-womanism, to be anti-yourself as a woman) and I just so don't want to be that.

Let me just start this post with full disclosure: I suffered from anorexia from age 17 through age 19, and I didn't really make a full recovery until around age 28. I have Issues With Food. I have Issues With Body Image. And pregnancy (and its accompanying forced, out-of-control body changes and weight gain) was extremely difficult for me to take emotionally. I can still remember sitting on my parents' couch when I was about three months' pregnant and seeing my legs beginning to swell in the evenings and realizing it was not going to get any better for a very, very long time.