“One day… my eyes will be used to seeing my naked self, these luscious mounds of skin. Upon seeing my bare body in a mirror, there will only be love; well-known, unconditional, infatuated love.”
I wrote those words at the beginning of this year when my mind was fixated on the concept of blissful & positive body acceptance. I had been trying to wrap my mind around the curves that seemingly came out of no where.
The change was dramatic, stemmed from the inescapable development that comes with womanhood. My brain couldn’t comprehend this kind of metamorphosis. I loathed being in a body that felt so foreign. It left me feeling disoriented.
But I wanted to make peace with that.
It was my hope to have found acceptance in my new skin after months had passed & forgiveness from my self-hatred had taken place. And I was on the right track. I was able to stop obsessing about the voluptuous tufts of skin that rippled when I walked, stretched, slept, sat.
I was able to see the beauty of round bellies & even admire those who possessed them.
I was able to cradle my full belly in my hands & send to it positive affirmations — this is beautiful; you are beautiful.
And then I got weighed at the doctor’s office.
The first blow was given when I found out my true height in numbers (I’m a lot less tall than I thought I was). The second would come after I hesitantly stepped on the rickety scale & watched as the dial slid further & further to the right.
“One thirty four,” the nurse announced cheerfully, writing down the sequence of numbers in my medical records.
One thirty four. One thirty four. 1-3-4.
Those three numbers continued to bounce against the wall of my consciousness, echoing ceaselessly as my blood pressure was taken, as my eyeballs were examined, as my breasts were checked for abnormal lumps, as specimen was collected for my smear test.
134.
In my logical, self-loving mind, I know that there is no significance about one thirty four, that it doesn’t reflect my womanly identity or self-worth.
It’s just a number.
But it holds so much weight for me; the heaviness of it presses against my chest & makes my head spin with irrational insecurity.
I now see 134 when I look at myself in the mirror. I see it when I look down at the fullness of my belly after devouring a home-cooked meal. I see it when I’m writhing with pleasure after a shattering release provoked by my partner.
I haven’t been able to shake it off.
I am tormented by the technicality of numbers, the daunting knowledge of how my weigh is distributed, but especially this inconceivable notion that my body is developing, evolving, gaining.
134 has been seared into my innermost thoughts & scarred across my eyelids.
I am saddened that I’ve not yet been cured from the preoccupation I have with my figure & its altering due to maturity. I cannot escape the melancholy thoughts about it.
And maybe that’s okay.
Not in the sense that having melancholy thoughts about my body is okay, but more in the way that body acceptance is not stagnant, much like self-growth is not stagnant. Perhaps there’s no destination to arrive at when it comes to confident, loving body image; perhaps it’s meant to ebb & flow as days, months, years go by.
Perhaps I need to go easier on myself.
I say all of this to think out loud, so to speak; to reveal a part of me that I am still coming to terms with; to admit that I am struggling & need to be reminded of my own beautiful affirmations.
It is through this admission that I can transcend my self-hatred.
It implies the need for me to be held accountable.
Thank you for allowing me to share this with you. I know I’m not the only one.
//
Q: have you come to terms with the way your body looks? Has there ever been a time where you loved your body in a way that is consistent?
I loved my body most when I was pregnant. I finally felt comfortable in some weird way. It was like I had a good excuse to show off a growing belly. It was fun to watch it bulge and move as a little body rolled around inside.
Now, even though I am not 100% happy with my body I find it easier to accept my body as it is, while recognizing that I have the ability to change it.
I know its not easy to change it lol, but I still have that power.
Some days its harder to remember than others, but I dont feel as self-conscious as I used to or as often before I was pregnant.
I don’t know if this will be relevant for you or not, but I thought I would share it.
For me, it was rather cosmic when I realized that the shape I’m in right now, the three-digit number which is my weight today, is somebody else’s goal. Somebody else’s “oh, that’d be great, but I could never get there.” That somebody else might look at me with envy from their own position of self-consciousness.
For me, that realization made me feel like it was maybe a bit arrogant to beat myself up for my weight. I’d imagine moaning about my 172 pounds to a friend and watching them get uncomfortable with what it implies about her and her weight. I’d never be that cruel to a friend.
134 is a dream to me. It’s lower than my goal weight. And I don’t feel like you’re criticizing me at all, E, but … context is so much more meaningful than a single data point.
Know that we know your context, and that we find you lovely. If that’s your current number, we find it a gorgeous, lush, generous, lovely number. But it’s just your current address, and you take your lush, generous, lovely self to whatever address you damn well choose.
This is the most awesome thing I’ve read today. High five!
http://sacredscribesangelnumbers.blogspot.com/2011/07/angel-number-134.html
I turn backwards when I step on the scale at the doctor’s office. I say, “You can check my weight if you need to, but don’t tell me what the number is.” I have been doing this for years.
I had to weigh myself yesterday in order to apply for health insurance, and it was just as traumatic for me as it was when I made the decision years ago to stop knowing what that number was. I am so tired of our cultural obsession with weight and the pseudoscience that makes us think it correlates to our health in ways that just aren’t even TRUE. (Have you read Health at Every Size by Linda Bacon? I highly recommend it — it debunks a lot of the mythology around weight as an indicator of health. And then, if you haven’t already, read Big Big Love, by Hanna Blank, which is about how totally sexy heavy people are…and the updated edition has just come out!)
You took how I was feeling from this entire summer up until now and pretty much wrote my story. Though our numbers are not the same, the feelings are similar. Thank you!
Like you, I was very lithe all my life. I got married to a man who loves to cook and eat…and well, you can imagine the rest. I was at your number a few years ago, and I felt as you do. That number is now my target to return to.
I say that to let you know that I totally empathize with what you say. I remember getting a TON of compliments from family, close friends and my hubby when i was about 135 or so. In a nutshell they told me I looked better than ever, and it took a minute to realize why. I now had the shape and soft curves of a grown woman. That’s not to say that thinner women (thin for whatever reason) are not grown women. Rather, the curves that came with a few pounds filled me out just right for my stature. Even with a few more (I’m at 152 now) I waffle between feeling fabulous and flabby. I aim for fabulous. ;)
I remember that in your last blog you enjoyed a level of androgyny in your style. Do you feel this new shape hinders that? Do you still enjoy a unisex look?
B,
I think you pinpointed something that I have not been able to see. Because I spent most of my years in a lanky, curve-free body, in my mind that’s the body that looks better on me. And because of that, I grew more accustomed to seeing that body as “perfect.”
So yes, it stems from this weird, irrational love for androgyny — lanky, smaller breasts, long limbs, little to no curves — but also an unfamiliarity with me having a womanly, curvy, voluptuous body.
I appreciate your comment a great deal.
You’re welcome and I wish you all the best.
Jenny below said something I just thought about. Try having a few pieces of art from back in the day from when women were shown as beautiful with healthy curves. Our minds are mallible and exposing yourself to varied ideas of beauty may help you. As does the dancing classes (I need to do that myself!).
Beautiful You by Rosie Molinary has been such a blessing for me when it comes to body stuff. If I won the lottery, I’d buy copies for everyone I know.
I empathize. When I was at a weight which I thought looked appropriate for my height, I was actually severely underweight and very unhealthy. Now that I’m at a higher weight, it’s definitely a mental struggle to look in the mirror and see “health” rather than jiggly bits. Being active helps me with that distorted lens- when I ran a 5K (not much, I know, but for me it was huge), I felt like such a bad-ass which made me way more appreciative of the legs I normally grumble about when I look in the mirror.
I know you didn’t write this for external validation but, if it helps at all, I think 134 looks great on you.
Try 2-3-4, honey, and then we’ll talk.
LOL@ Joy… my exact sentiments however, i see that everyone (at least most women) struggle with loving their bodies for one reason or another. ev’yan, you said it most correctly “In the end, we desperately need to take care of ourselves. We’re all we’ve got.” we’re all works in progress. i love your sharing through words.
To answer your question, … yes and always. I have already reconciled with how I look.
What would have been the right numbers for you?
I don’t think there’s a specific number that would ever give me peace. And that’s the real problem. Recognizing that the ideal weight I’m after isn’t attainable, simply because I don’t think I’d ever be satisfied.
I think a lot of women feel this way; that there’s no right number on the scale, only wrong ones.
I think most women struggle with some form of discomfort in relation to their bodies. As a teen I had my own hang-ups with being super thin, and so did a lot of my friends. I am learning now to just listen to my body. It can be a tricky road, especially when one is feeling hormonal. It took a long time for me to come to terms with my frame, and accept that a waif-esque figure was not and is not healthy for me, personally. I am still a lean woman, but I am strong and athletic. Which makes me proud. And I have absolutely no idea how much I weigh right now, I plan on keeping it that way. As long as I feel healthy, I don’t think it matters. Observing the uniqueness of our body types,and enhancing what is beautiful about them, is the way to go.
I spent my teens measuring my thighs with tailor meter: I was three cm out of my idea of beauty (NOW I find it funny), and blamed the extra cm on every failure and frustation.
Similar to Oliver, I actually don’t own a scale. I know that weight isn’t a good indicator of health, so I don’t worry about it – instead I focus on how I feel. That doesn’t mean I don’t occasionally get twinges when someone asks me for my weight or when I get measured at a doctor’s office (especially because my weight actually puts me in the high end of the overweight category on the BMI so I’m waiting for the day I get a lecture), but overall, I’m pretty happy with my body and how I look, numbers be damned.
For the record, I’m 5’2″ and my weight over the last two years (going from doctor’s visits) is usually around 150, sometimes closer to 160.
About consistent self-love, I don’t think there’s a spot we reach where it’s “done” and that’s it. I think it’s a constant journey and that we do the best we can. Just like being outwardly compassionate.
134. That number makes me want to laugh and cry.
I’m 5’8″, and no one else has ever considered me fat.
Still, three years ago, I spent the summer running and biking every day. I also barely ate, and not at all for two weeks. I was so proud when I reached my “goal weight” of 135lbs. Someone who cared about me got me to start eating again, and I went back to trying to ignore the numbers on the scale as they creeped back up to 150. I also pretended my struggles with food were over, but I always nurtured a loathing of my curves.
I started getting sick six months ago, making it hard to eat or keep food down, and while that scared me (I have yet to get a conclusive diagnosis, aside from the possibility of fibromyalgia) secretly a grim satisfaction bubbled under the surface. I’m 139 right now. I don’t feel like I’m taking up too much space anymore.
Lover worries – he can see the vertebrae on my spine. I’m tell myself that I’m not too thin, that I could lose more weight, but my rings fall off my fingers. He tells me I should gain weight, that I’m supposed to carry curves, for “havin’ sex and makin’ babies,” he jokes.
I’ve gotten to the point where I’m scaring myself. I don’t want to be so self-destructive anymore. But the anxiety and the self-hatred feel so locked up in my stomach that I’m not sure how to unravel it.
This is more depressing than I intended. But I feel like I’m in the same limbo of wanting to accept my body, and not quite being there yet.
My heart breaks for you, Natasha, yet I understand exactly where you’re coming from. The way you feel about your body resonates with the way I sometimes (usually) feel about my own.
I hope that you’re able to see the flaw in the way we (you & I) think about weight & our bodies. I hope we can both heal.
In the end, we desperately need to take care of ourselves. We’re all we’ve got.
xx
I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this post and the comments from your readers.
I’m a good 40 lbs heavier than what I always considered to be by “natural” weight. But it’s been three years, so maybe it’s time to reassess what’s “natural.”
I can bring my weight down, but it requires being stressed and anxious and rigid around food and exercise.
So for now, I am working on recalibrating. Perhaps this new weight is my new “natural?”
It’s hard though. I consider myself to be an enlightened woman, but it’s hard to look in the mirror and accept that I am now round and chubby and several sizes bigger than I used to be. The fresh, dark stretch-marks all over my bottom and thighs don’t help.
I never thought that my love for my body was conditional. It’s been a hard fact to face. Now I’m learning how to love it unconditionally, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. And I’m working on letting that be okay.
It is so sad that so many women are slaves to their weight.
I have been very fortunate in that I’ve always had a healthy body image because I’ve always admired the women on the 30s and 40s, who were very curvy, voluptuous and to me, that was gorgeous. That was how a woman SHOULD look. The women of today are so incredibly unattractive to me; the models in magazines, the actresses in movies, the women in “beauty” commercials. It doesn’t inspire me to lose weight and look like a Victoria’s Secret model. It only makes me sad that these are the people who are telling us what BEAUTIFUL is. It’s such bullshit. Had I ever wanted to have children and had I ever had a daughter, I would NEVER let her consume the trash in magazines and beauty ad’s and I would teach her early on that beauty is YOU, inside and out. Not what size you wear. Work on yourself, work on your personality, your uniqueness, your own style. Because when you’re dying, you are going to regret ALL that time and energy spent on hating your body, instead of loving yourself unconditionally and enjoying life. You’re only going to live this life once, do you really want to spend it crying on the scale…or do you want to LIVE and be HAPPY?
And for the record…Bettie Page is much more sexier and beautiful than any of the Victoria Secret models….
134 is a tough one to me. It’s my weight, and I’m slowly learning to adjust to it. I lost 20 lbs by doing nothing at all, and lost every ounce of femininity: I have no breasts to speak of, no beautiful hips to fill out a slinky dress, or be seen as/feel like a sexy woman. It puts you in a perpetual state of girlyness. Compliments aren’t “you are a beautiful woman”; they’re “aren’t you so cute!”
Love the number and the curves; they’re envied even if you don’t feel like they are some days :)
There are things I have come to terms with about my body. There are things about my body that I will always struggle to accept. Weight isn’t one of them. I can work on my weight. I can work on and improve the way my weight is distributed. I think that positive body image is important because it allows us to enjoy the body we have.
Why is it wrong to want to lose 5 lbs because I weigh 134 lbs or that I want to lose 50 lbs because I weigh 200 lbs or that I want to gain 15 lbs because I weigh 125 lbs and I like my body curvy.
I think we should work on our physical body the way we work to improve our thinking processes, or the way we nurture our hair, or the way we work to improve our interpersonal relationships.
Why is it that if we as women are not happy with our weight that it means we hate our bodies?
I agree. Weight is something that can be changed if you’re not happy. I don’t think it is something that you have to accept unlike things that you can’t change like forehead size, the length of your toes, or my nostrils that are two different shapes (one is square and the other is round smh). With my body shape (ruler) I know I will never have “womanly” curves, but I love the look of athletic bodies so I work out to achieve that.
I absolutely agree with you, Brandy. Thanks for commenting.
Brandy: “Why is it wrong to want to lose 5 lbs because I weigh 134 lbs or that I want to lose 50 lbs because I weigh 200 lbs or that I want to gain 15 lbs because I weigh 125 lbs and I like my body curvy.”
Umm…there’s NOTHING wrong with wanting to lose weight. But there IS SOMETHING WRONG when you’re OBSESSING over your weight, crying on the scale and flinching when you look in the mirror. This is how eating disorders start.
There’s a HUGE difference.
134 isn’t large in the slightest. It’s only 9 stone and 5 pounds, which for most heights is in the healthy range in terms of BMI. I have a BMI of 22 and I weigh about that much. Try not to label that weight as ‘fat’ (which you’re insinuating by saying you kept thinking about it) when it’s not in the slightest. Love your blog normally however, I just don’t think it’s in the spirit of your blog to portray that weight as ‘overweight’.
I’m sorry that you feel I was portraying 134 as overweight. I don’t believe I even use the words “fat” or “overweight” in my article. So I don’t think it’s fair for you to suggest that I was insinuating something that wasn’t there.
134 is heavy for *me* (just based on my own history with how much I weigh), but I don’t look at that number & label it “fat” across the board & apply it to other people’s lives.
This article was about me & my story; no one else’s.
i am 5’0 and just currently weighed at the doctors office yesterday…161.
161.
i once was 130-something too…
i however, have a man who tells me i am beautiful…sexy…
its funny..inside my head i say he’s crazy, yet my heart believes him.
The “correct” weight for my height is 125, according to the chart on my doctor’s wall. But I always knew I was muscular, and that muscle weighs more than fat, and so I never worried about it. I go by how my clothes fit. I’m 154 right now, which is just a tad above what I like to be for the activity level I’m at now (I don’t move enough)
But when I’m working physically, I go to 160 and stay there, and my clothes fit better than ever (better muscles create better posture, in addition.)
I’m not throwing out this information for any other reason than to demonstrate that even what your doctor tells you is ideal for you, might, in fact, not be right.
When I had AFS, I dropped down to 140, which is the lowest I have ever been since puberty. you could count ribs. I went clothes shopping (my jeans wouldn’t stay up) and became nauseated. I lost my boobs, if you can believe it. My DDs became ABs. I thought it was gross.
When I turned 25, I noticed I had grown curves. I had always had an I-shaped body, and suddenly I was an hour-glass. I thought the curves made me look *better*.
It’s actually the opposite of your reaction, because I had always felt that my straight frame, in jeans and t-shirt made me look like a slightly chubby boy. The hips made my waist look smaller and disguised the little pouch at the waist.
Anyway, in subjective terms, there’s nothing our testimonials can do other than feel less alone. But in practical terms, do the strength-building exercise of your choice and it won’t matter how much you weigh, only how you feel.
Has anyone ever read ‘Women That Run With The Wolves’? It’s an amazing book about connecting with the inner power of the feminine. I am also struggling with my sense of self, and have been my whole life, but slowly am starting to realise that awareness of yourself it such a big part. Awareness of how the little voice creeps in, how I feed it and allow it to grow, how it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m a bellydancer and it’s difficult not to look at most dancers who are these gorgeous godess women and not feel ugly and big next to them. But I’m learning slowly to push those thoughts away and focus on the things I do like about myself, like my boobs, firm butt and gorgeous eyes. Every woman can find something wrong with herself but let’s start focusing on what’s awesome! Ev’Yan you have amazing bone structure and gorgeous eyes and lips that some of us would kill for! Other women have amazing legs, or hair, or smiles, or hearts, personalities, intellect, spirit, wisdom and grace. Let’s keep telling ourselves all the things we DO like about ourselves, every day. That’ll be the small seed which will grow into a big beautiful and sturdy tree of our self worth. :) Don’t forget also that everything you change in yourself also adds to the collective ‘woman’ consciousness and helps everyone on their journey too.
I went through this the last time I weighed myself at the gym. I felt strong and fit before I got on the scale. Afterwards all I could see was fat and cellulite in the mirror.
Two or three weeks later I feel fit and strong, again. I am afraid to get back on the scale, for fear the numbers will change the way I see myself, again.
When I first saw the numbers 134 in your blog post, I immediately thought of the numerical representation for love: 143. I know that they are not one in the same but the recognition of this seems too important not to question it’s significance. On one level, self acceptance and freedom come from knowing that you are connected to a source of immeasurable love, even when the mind falsely identifies it’s self worth by numbers on a scale. The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle may be a great place of discovery for you. I wish you the best of luck! :-)
While I appreciate your honest story in this post, Ev’Yan, I have to say that by posting your actual weight, it can be VERY triggering for anyone who has had even the slightest history of disordered eating, diagnosed or otherwise. In the least it lends itself to a lot of comparison, as I seem to be witnessing in the comments.
I haven’t weight myself in 4 years, I don’t own a scale, and I refuse to know what the weight says at the doctor’s office. Though earlier in the year when I accidentally glimpsed the number on the scale, I experienced a slight relapse of my ED. :/
At this point, I’m pretty sure the number’s gone up, but I truly don’t care anymore, because I feel strong and wonderful in my body, especially when I use it to move and appreciate it.
When I first met my partner, I was 109 lbs. About a month after I first became intimate with him, I went up to 123 lbs. Three months after that, I was 131. The year after that, I was 156. I haven’t been able to get back to the 120s since I’ve been married and it took me a while to get really comfortable with my body. In the meantime, I’m healthier than I have been and I’ve embraced the softness of my body. My breasts, belly and hips are more rounded, but I think of it now as preparing for when I become pregnant and I won’t be so thin that I will have difficulties giving birth. I try to ignore the number, though. It’ll kill me if I don’t.
Ev’Yan, I applaud you for being so honest and open. I know some of the comments have been critical, and I just want to remind you that it’s great to hear from different viewpoints – but don’t let that change how you write or what you present to the world. Your authenticity and frankness are a gift and many, many people benefit from that. Hugs! -Jenni