Growing up, EVERY adult woman i knew felt they were too fat. Half of them were on diets, the other quarter had given up (seemingly) and the last quarter were constantly exercising to force their body down to some magic size of 'thin'. But i didn't know anyone (adult women) who believed themselves thin. As i hit my teenage years, I would hear these women talk about how much they needed to loose here or there. Still, no one ever seemed to hit the magic size. I assumed they were all wanting to be the same size as the models and actresses i saw in magazines and tv...but that was all fake...i knew, because you could practically smell the plastic through the tv screen.
I was reasonably well read, so i had an idea of what it would take to be cast in a movie. I was also well read enough to know that the incident rate of anorexic death in the entertainment industry was enormously high compared to my little community.
So thus was birthed my conclusion. I'M HAPPY WITH MY SIZE. This was first thought when i was around 16 and wearing size 12. I was not a skinny mini, but i decided i didn't need to be.
As i got older, my conclusion grew into a belief. I saw how hard everyone worked to reach a 'prefect' size and it seemed that very few were reaching it, and the few who did, didn't seem particularly happy to be there.
So i continued to just be happy with who i was and not worry about my body shape.
When i turned 30 (wearing a size 18), the doctor diagnosed me with Insulin Resistance. Suddenly i was questioning my belief.
No comments:
Post a Comment