B is for Body Image…
More from my (hopefully) book…
Read the post, “Book,” for the details…
Anyway…
B is for Body Image
It was the night of the freshman dance. I invited all my friends over. We traded clothes and helped each other find the perfect outfit. We put on way too much makeup and gossiped about all the dreamy guys in our class. Once we were primped in our push-up bras and red lipstick, we gathered in front of the mirror to examine our final product. Then the ritual began. Battling to see who could degrade themselves the most. Thunder thighs. Cankles. Big nose. Yellow teeth. Non-symmetrical face. Flat chest. Frizzy hair. Limp Hair. Fat ass. No ass. Thin lips. Ugly feet. Short legs. Gross moles. Freckle face. Acne. Bacne. Too short. Too tall. Too pale. Beady eyes. Big ears. Weird hairline. We’ve heard all of them. I’ve accused myself of being many of them. I think most of us have.
Some people call it “fishing for compliments” but I’m pretty sure it’s morphed into a much bigger demon. Of course it’s nice when your friends reassure you that “you really have very nicely toned thighs,” but eventually it gets old for all concerned parties. So why do we do this to ourselves? Somewhere in the history of girl culture we mixed up the idea of “confidence” with that of “self-indulgence.” So we rip ourselves apart, all in an attempt to look humble. While boys are supposed to boast, girls are supposed to be oblivious to their attributes. Unfortunately, in trying to be oblivious to our attributes, we start to only see our flaws, or our perceived flaws. We get on our knees and worship the goddesses of botox and silicone. We fall in love with air-brushed celebs and all the make-up that promises to make us that way.
Our moms tell us to love our bodies while they pursue a new diet craze. Magazines tell us to love our bodies amidst a mess of ads showing us what we’ll never look like. It seems that everyone’s a critic or a hypocrite. So here’s my question: how the hell am I supposed to love my body when it’s constantly changing? If I actually fell head over heals for my small-ass rack, how am I supposed to get over it when my breasts explode into 34C’s? I learn to love my freckles and then they fade away? I learn to love my boy figure and then I get hips? What the hell should I do now?
When looking at your body feels like a game of musical chairs, loving everything about it seems more and more ridiculous. So here’s my “revolutionary” reality: DON’T love everything about your body, just learn to accept it for what it is… accentuate the things you like about it, deal with the rest… And of course, realize that the imperfections you obsess over, are probably not even noticeable to everyone else. Like when your friend talks about that huge-ass pimple on her face that you can’t even see, well the same goes for you. In a couple of years, you’re probably going to look a hell of a lot different anyway.
So for now, own your flaws. Marilyn Monroe had a huge ass mole on her face and she rocked it. It became a symbol of beauty, an image of imperfect perfection. That doesn’t mean that when she was fifteen, she didn’t desperately want to cover it up. The point is she exuded confidence despite it and that made her hot as hell, the poster girl for beauty.
(Obviously not finished yet…)
You write “hell” a lot. It’s a little distracting. I’ll have to think more about the rest of this. Good point, but somehow I’m not buying it yet. Do you believe it? I think maybe because of the use of questions (ie. re. the 34C and other body changes part) without answers, kids might feel like it’s too hypothetical. This is just my first read with TV about dog grooming in the background, so I’ll have to re-read and re-comment. It is good so far.
You’re definitely going in the right direction. hugs! for my writer-girl-friend. 
You do say “hell” a lot and also the word “ass” seems to be a tad bit overdone.. However, your message here is great and the manner in which you communicate it sounds as if you are the readers best friend (maybe because you really are!). You create an amazing tone and mood that is ridiculously comfortable and cozy.. I don’t feel like I’m reading this; instead I feel like were talking. Okay come home now.. Seriously.