I can blame it on media, the way the world objectifies women, or on almost anything. Yet, really, it all comes down to myself. It is my choice as to how I see me. I do know this, but it is so freaking hard to break theories learned early.
I read a lot of books in my formative years. Books about young heroines who were a certain size or shape (Vickie Barr was an airline stewardess and they had to be tall with no scars anywhere, Cherry Ames was a lovely nurse, who married a gorgeous doctor, and there was Nancy Drew who managed to solve crimes and have a handsome cigarette smoking boyfriend) and magazines with sexy hot women in them. They may not have had Sports Illustrated when I was a kid, but Playboy existed and in most of the places I babysat, it was a coffee table read. (I started babysitting nights when I was about 10) I learned a girl existed to be successful and part of that success meant to 'get a man' and have a lovely body. I also played with Barbie and her friends. The Sunshine Family was popular, but they were 'hippies' and not elegant like the other dolls! Which is why those are in pristine condition and the Barbies are worn out.
I did wait til I was in HS to really 'find out about' boys. After that, anything above the waist was fair game! I was a cute tiny thing and had great fun for many many years. Then, I delivered my first child. I was still cute and tiny and was totally enthralled with this baby made in my body. Suddenly, the baby stopped nursing and I began to gain weight.
The dr thought it was funny when I asked why I had jumped 20 pounds in a month. He told me the baby wasn't nursing and the fats from the milk had to go somewhere. I was horrified!!! I never did lose that first bunch of chubby cells. I had not experienced a need to lose weight before and had no idea what to do. The second baby showed up five years later and it got worse..much worse! Or so I thought.
Where was I inside that not so tiny young mom??? She was busy, very busy and it still wasn't too bad. For the most part. Aging was what killed everything. I got heavier and was still unsure of how to get it off, my body got sick with MS and stopped working well, and like Grizabella from CATS, I felt my beauty was gone.
I was left alone by my spouse, or so it seemed. I was convinced it was cuz I was so ugly compared to what I used to be. My body was ill and needed to sleep. I sleep a lot. It is not easy to be awake when it craves sleep. I know now, I was depressed. I probably still am, but I am working through this. With the help of caring friends.
It always startles me to hear I'm pretty or beautiful or even cute. However, it helps me to learn to behold myself in a better light. Curves in fiction are not reality, those ones are much more! The scars and marks etched on my skin show I've lived and I am alive. They aren't as pretty as the tattoo, but they are just as permanent. I need to choose to love both my outside AND my soul self. The shell is not as important as the stuff inside, but it does give the inside a place to reside. And I'm a damn fine unique place full of quirky korners!