Category Archives: body haters, body lovers

The Body Divide + The Song In My Heart

I’ve never met Steven. But he sent me an email last month with all the enthusiasm you can contain in a brief but encouraged message and asked if he might write something on the subject of body image. And so, he sent me this. It is the sort of thing we must never forget – no matter our size. He calls himself The Roving Gypsy and blogs at Life Moves On.

I’m that guy. The somewhere-around-three-hundred-pounds guy. The guy who, save for a small portion of my early childhood, has never been thin. That guy who has never worn a size smaller than large since my younger youth.

Thrust into the world of school yard bullies unprepared for the torment of first grade through twelfth. Not ready for the stares of my peers as they whispered words of discust to their thin friends a little too loudly.

First grade, day number one. I walked into a place called Hell.

It’s been seventeen years that first unsolicited remark about my size. From peers and teachers alike.

I used to believe I was the victim of an all too wrong body. I believed that what I looked like determined my worth. And I was worthless. Any advance by girl – who now I see, probably was interested – was seen as a way to hurt me.

Because that’s what all did. They hurt the fat people.

It’s been seventeen years, one failed relationship, and one current relationship since then. This isn’t the story of a boy who learned to hate. Not the people around him. Not himself.

It’s the story of a man who learned that love couldn’t see fat, thin, freckled, black, or white. Couldn’t see the differences in differing bodies.

Looking in, both relationships were with women who were thin. Looking in, you’d say she felt sorry for him. Looking into each others eyes they knew, what he looked like compared to her, or she to him had no meaning.

Body image wasn’t the key factor. It was that my heart sang when in the presence of the other and theirs while in mine.

It wasn’t what we looked like – our body image. It was our heart image.

This divide we have over bodies. I thought a lot about it in my years as the fat kid. During the few moments of rational thought I could find.

I came to one conclusion. This divide is the result of an abnormal society. A diseased society. What else, to me at least, can it be? When it’s a scandal that either woman could have fallen for a guy of my size? But when a girl starves herself trying to reach an ‘ideal’ image, or a boy overdoses on steroids to maintain a muscular facade. That’s normal?

I wish I could see them; tell them what I found. This beauty in heart image.

Live to love. Love to live.

9 Celebrity Quotes To Push Through Any Body Image Issue

Leave a reply

What celebrities say matters to us. Whether we admit it or not, there is a calm, sure feeling that washes over us the minute someone with some power in this world comes out and says, “I’ve felt that; I know that feeling; it’s not right.”

For that half-second, we are on the same page. They become human. We become acceptable versions of ourselves just by knowing that if they’re flailing around, we can be, too.

So today, in that spirit, I’m bringing to you quotes on body image and eating disorders from some of today’s most known + admired celebrities. Women who have spoken out about it and knocked down the myths of stick-thin beauty. Women who want what they do to matter more than how they fit into a dress. I hope you’ll find solace in their words.

(1) Adele

“I like looking nice, but I always put comfort over fashion. I don’t find thin girls attractive; be happy and healthy. I’ve never had a problem with the way I look. I’d rather have lunch with my friends than go to a gym.”

(2) Anne Hathaway

“There’s no magic bullet; there’s no pill that you take that makes everything great and makes you happy all the time. I’m letting go of those expectations, and that’s opening me up to moments of transcendent bliss. But I still feel the stress over ‘Am I thin enough? Am I too thin? Is my body the right shape?’ ”

(3) Emma Watson

“My weight has fluctuated between a size 6 and a 10. When you’re growing, your body is still figuring itself out and it takes a while to settle down. I keep telling myself that I’m a human being, an imperfect human being who’s not made to look like a doll, and that who I am as a person is more important than whether at that moment I have a nice figure.”

(4) Rhianna

“You shouldn’t be pressured into trying to be thin by the fashion industry, because they only want models that are like human mannequins. They know that if we see an outfit on a mannequin in a shop window we will love it and want to buy it whatever size we are. That’s why they have size zero models — they want to sell clothes. But you have to remember that it’s not practical or possible for an everyday woman to look like that. Being size zero is a career in itself so we shouldn’t try and be like them. It’s not realistic and it’s not healthy.”

(5) Zooey Deschanel

“You do not need to look or be anorexic to be successful in Hollywood. The range of what’s acceptable is a lot larger than what people believe.”

(6) Taylor Swift

“I definitely have body issues, but everybody does. When you come to the realization that everybody does that — even the people that I consider flawless — then you can start to live with the way you are. I’ve read interviews with some of the most beautiful women who have insecurities. And you look at them and you’re like, ‘How do you have? Name one thing wrong with yourself,’ and they could name a handful.”

(7) Jennifer Lawrence

“In Hollywood, I’m obese. I’m considered a fat actress. I eat like a caveman. I’ll be the only actress who doesn’t have anorexia rumors! I’m never going to starve myself for a part. I’m invincible. I don’t want little girls to be like, ‘Oh, I want to look like Katniss so I’m going to skip dinner!’ ”

(8) Emma Stone

“You’re a human being, you live once and life is wonderful, so eat the damn red velvet cupcake.”

(9) Demi Lovato

“If you are going through that dark period, go to your family and closest friends. Don’t put yourself in danger. It’s very crucial that you get your feelings out — but don’t ever inflict harm on your own body because your body is so sacred. I wish I could tell every young girl with an eating disorder, or who has harmed herself in any way, that she’s worthy of life and that her life has meaning. You can overcome and get through anything.”

You’re Not Pretty. You’re Going To Have To Deal With That.

Leave a reply

Today’s guest post is by Emmy Hornburg, a girl whose very blog title warms my heart: Love Woke Me Up This Morning. She lives with her whole self gearing up for just this day. Read her tweets and follow her on Instagram and Facebook.

“You’re wearing makeup to Disney World?”

My former college roommate and friend popped her head through the door and stared at me. I sat on the floor of the living room, mini mirror in one hand and makeup brush in the other. I was slightly embarrassed.

“If only my college self could see me now!” I joked. “She wouldn’t know who I am!”

It was true. Only a few short years ago when I was an undergrad, I used to have my friends do my hair and makeup for me because I didn’t know how. My hair rarely had been touched by a straightener and I would rather have it freeze when I walked outside in the middle of winter because I didn’t bother with a hair dryer after I showered.

Then something happened. It wasn’t a sudden change, but very gradual. As I transitioned into the “real world” little things started happening.

Maybe it was my sister saying “You’re an adult now and you need to look like it.” Maybe it was watching too many episodes of What Not to Wear. Maybe it was seeing how so many people younger than me looked much more put together. Maybe a combination of everything.

I got a good hair cut here and there. Over time, shopping for new clothes wasn’t a dreaded chore but an exciting adventure. I began to experiment with eyeshadow and lipsticks. Now my hair dryer and straightener are my new best friends and I’m always on the look-out for new products to keep my hair and skin healthy.

There are times I look at myself in the mirror and wonder what happened. “When did I become this girl? Am I really that shallow?”

I was sitting with a group of girls one day talking about things that have been taking over our lives. I mentioned fashion and looks, how my life was consumed with it more than it used to.

Then I blurted something out that I didn’t even realize had been in my head:

“I don’t know if I’m wearing makeup and doing my hair because I want to look beautiful, or if I’m doing these things because I already feel beautiful.”

There’s definitely a difference.

While I do have moments when I wonder whatever happened to me, those are usually trumped by moments when I realize I like the girl I see in the mirror now.

For the first time in my life, I actually feel beautiful. Because of that, I’m taking care of myself more. I’m making more of an effort to put my best foot forward because I like what I see. I can walk out of my apartment without makeup and my hair thrown up in a pony tail and know I look just fine. But I still want to put my best foot forward.

Not that I don’t have my insecurities, I do. There are parts of my body I’m not a huge fan of. But in general, I like the girl I see in the mirror.

It drives me insane when people say, “It doesn’t matter what you look like, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.”

While I see their point, there is another side of the coin. When hearing this, one could also hear the message, “You’re not pretty. You’re going to have to deal with that.”

When that’s simply not true. While our character is far more important than how we appear on the outside, we also shouldn’t take for granted that each of us are beautiful in our own amazing ways.

A few months ago someone complimented me by saying, “You’ve been looking so pretty lately. You’ve always been a pretty girl, but there’s something different lately.”

I think it’s because when someone tells me I look good, I believe them.

Next Steps: What To Do When You’ve Lost Tug-of-War

Leave a reply

Four years ago, I was at a place in my life where the most important thing was not to be healthy, but to weigh nothing.

Granted, at the time, I considered them to be equal and attracting forces. To be healthy was to float above the sidewalk should a swift breeze draft from behind. To weigh nothing was to carry around no resentments or anxieties or even, I came to learn, emotions of any kind.

To be them both? Well, to be them both was to win a battle that I had already lost.

I didn’t tell myself that, though.

Instead, if my breath labored while I climbed stairs or coasted hills, if my arm shook while I slung my loaded backpack over my shoulders, I didn’t let on.

I let go.

What they don’t tell you about eating disorders is that when they happen, it feels like the worst kind of tug-of-war win. Your friends and family and health care providers stand at one end of the rope, pulling it taut toward them while you wrestle with what little energy you have to stay firmly planted far far away.

And then, because you are tired and you don’t know if you want to be better yet and you feel like you understand the scope of the dangers you’ve put yourself in for, um, the rest of your life, you let go.

“Here,” you say. “You win. Have your rope. I am sitting down here on the dusty dirty floor and taking comfort in my aloneness.”

When that happens, when the lights go out inside you, the most important thing becomes weighing nothing; it becomes the only way to win again.

In the three years since I began Rewriting Life, I’ve watched dozens of other girls let go of that rope. Girls I knew once. Girls whose voices I could never recognize. Girls whose hearts have been plastered in my Twitter feed but whose breathing I have never heard. Girls and boys from all over this world.

You could say that would scare me. We shouldn’t be so content to watch the rope fall slack.

But when I notice them, or they notice me, or we notice each other, we aren’t both slumped on the ground with brown, caked hands.

We are whispering down the lane to someone else and someone else and someone else, asking them to pass along the message that we don’t want to be sitting here on this cracked and arid dirt anymore.

We are asking for a next step.

Somebody, tell us where to walk next.

We become Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom. We are hopping from letter to letter, from stone to stone, holding in our pockets an ounce of hope that says we can arrive safely on the other side.

We’ve seen it, haven’t we?

But how?

That next step, after the tug-of-war rope has been reeled in and it has been a few hours outside on the front lawn and it’s getting too cold to spend the night asleep like a museum display for early rising neighbors and Sunday paper retrievers?

That next step looks different for everyone.

I could tell you it starts with standing up, brushing the dirt off yourself. I could tell you to walk inside and slide into your kitchen chair and give your mother the kind of look that requires to follow-up questions. I could tell you she might pick up the phone and call someone to pick you up and take you to a treatment center.

But the important thing isn’t thinking too hard on that end result, that moment of defeat, that moment of sheer readiness to remember what life felt like before the ground grew rough and bumpy, before brush-burned hands and lost battles.

The important thing would be to step inside your house and sit down, ready to embark on a new beginning: recovery.

And it will be hard. And it will hurt. And you will want to sabotage your progress.

But someday, you will find sureness in your solidness on the sidewalk.

Follow Rewriting Life