Bio Assignments and Body Image

This was inspired by a pre-class biology assignment on health and body image.(This is why I love BYU)

I can't tell you what it's like to be fat in this world

But I can tell you what it's like to be thin.

The truth is, I don't know where to start. I am naturally thin, though I don't exercise. I don't eat a whole lot either, but right now that's due to supply rather than demand. Either way, I've been thin my whole life. And it's not easy. Especially because I don't conform to typical fashion standards. Imagine being that girl, the one who should look like that, who's told that she's so thin all the time, as if it was somehow better. Even though she was never desirable, or rather desired, because everyone went for (goes for) those girls with the perfect hair, the great fashion, skinny jeans and blond hair and leggings, scarves and jewelry and purses. But at least she (this theoretical girl) was thin right?

What good is thin, really?

Because she still sat lonely, and because it had been told her so much that she was so pretty - and skinny - she noticed how bigger girls were still more desirable, those girls with great fashion, and she wondered what was wrong. After all, she was thin right? And that was all she ever heard was beautiful about her. And in this society, you aren't allowed to notice your own beauty, or you're conceited, narcissistic. So she began to notice her too-large nose, and her close-centered eyes, and her square chin, and the weird faces she was always making in pictures. She noticed her thighs and how they jiggled and jounced, and ballooned out to whale-like proportions when she sat down, or so it seemed. She made it all a joke, though inside it tore her apart. And she forgot about what her parents had told her, about her bright eyes and the light from inside, and she fell, collapsed in on herself in a haze of "not-good-enough" because in a world where thin people were praised, she wasn't.

But as she grew older she began to grow brighter. And she began to realize that it didn't matter as much as they said it did, that she was thin. She began to see that she wasn't willing to put in the effort to look like the other girls did, because in the end, she realized, finally, that she'd rather be different, herself, and undesirable, than a clone, finally noticed for being pretty in the exact same ways as everyone else. She would actually rather be different. Because they never tell you, in this society, that who you are is more important than wearing the right sweater, jeans, leggings, boots, scarves, jackets, bags, whatever. But we know it. Somewhere deep inside us, we know it. And our souls cry out, with that small voice that is all we've left them, "Don't listen." Their words will not hold you through the night but these will: You are beautiful even if no one acknowledges it.

And if you need someone to acknowledge it, I will.

Because there is so much more to life than what you see in the mirror. "Skinny" is not all that I am. I am not defined by my hip-to-waist ratio or how well I dance. I am not defined by how I move, or the way I do my hair. I am so much more than that. And you are too. If you can read this, if you are reading it, if you have even a shred of potential to be able to read this, then you are more than you can imagine. And you are beautiful.

Even if the world refuses to acknowledge it.

(I'll tell you a secret: They're just a little bit jealous. You see, they have as hard a time seeing their own beauty as you do in seeing yours)

Me, Perfect? Nah

Recently I read The Disease Called "Perfection" by Dan Pearce. Lately I have been struggling with a decision, as you may know, and even more recently I've been wondering how to face up to the choice that I made. I don't regret my choice, I thought, but what do I do if it was the wrong one? I already know my dad will be mad, my friends may think me crazy, but then I read this piece. And if you haven't yet, please do.

To me, what this said to me was that I'm worrying too much about what other people think about the path I'm following rather than simply following it and doing the best that I can. I'm worrying a lot about what other people will say rather than what I believe is the path I need to take.

As I'm writing this, my family is watching Frozen. "Conceal, don't feel," right? Not anymore.

I thought about this, combined with Dan's article, and couldn't help but look back on my life and see how much I've done that. I've become whatever I needed to be so people would like me. So I could be "perfect." I've agreed out loud when I really don't. I've hidden away my thoughts because they'd displease others. I've thought the right thoughts, said the right words, and acted the right way. And It's been a good life...mostly. It's only recently I've begun to break free, in my own way. I've started- gasp!- disagreeing with people. And It didn't cause me any loss of those I hold dear. I've started to follow my path the way I believe I should, the way of no (or at least fewer) regrets.

Life is even better than before.

I still hold true to my beliefs. I still do not participate in things I believe to be wrong. Lots of things in my life will not change. But the parts of me that belong only to me, my personality, certain of my life choices, the way I choose to be, all of these are breaking free of the "perfection" I've lived in, at least I hope so.

I'm trying to embrace my faults, my mistakes, and live and learn. I'm trying to move on from what I've done, ignore how I appear to others. I will choose how to live because of me, and not because of others, not because they told me so, or because they'll like me or approve. Not that I will make decisions so that people will disapprove, but that their approval will no longer be a deciding factor, or even a factor at all, if I can make it so.

I'm trying to, you might say, "Let it Go."

I love that song. That is what I'm trying to do. To not care "what they're going to say." To do it because of me and not them.

It will be hard. So hard. These are habits I have cultivated for nearly eighteen years (or less I suppose, not counting when I was too young to really understand). I can't imagine what it would be like to wait longer.

As it is, this will take a long time. I'm not even sure where to start. Though I'm at the perfect place in my life to start this- getting ready to go away to college, somewhere to start afresh, right?

But honestly, what kind of life is a perfect one? What kind of person, the kind that someone can really care for, is "perfect?" It is imperfection that draws us, because we recognize something that we see in ourselves. And I want to be me, not some fancy painted-on version, whether that be literal makeup or the metaphorical kind. I don't want to be blemish free. Not anymore.

Our scars make us. And my heart's got a few.

Me, perfect? Nah.

Women and a Conversation

I recently had a conversation with a good friend of mine. The story is, he asked a girl out who he liked though really they barely knew each other, and she turned him down hard. Like, really hard, almost cruelly. She broke his heart. Yet now they are good friends. He told me he wondered how she could have been so mean one minute and nice the next.

The way I explained it was this: Women often feel threatened by men, in an interesting way. We live in a culture where women and girls are taught to be careful, for every man she sees is a potential attacker, mugger, rapist. And so since this girl didn't reciprocate my friend's feelings, she responded harshly, to deter any further expressions of affection. To deter anything that may have come after, whatever that may be. My friend, of course, responded with "But I would never do that!" and "Not all men are like that!" It doesn't matter that not all men are that way, unfortunately, not in this case. Enough are that all women are cautious. I, myself, work as an office cleaner, and as such, I end up being alone in (probably bad) isolated areas at night, in deserted buildings. My dad has often warned me to check before I leave the building, to lock the outer doors, and to not hang around, especially with my car door unlocked. Why? Because I am a single woman, alone, and vulnerable. I also have been repeatedly told in my life not to stop and help strangers on the side of the road because it may be a ploy to get a girl into a car, alone, and vulnerable. I am told not to do that without a man around. Because I am a single woman, alone, and vulnerable.

Living in this culture, is it any wonder that girl responded the way she did?

He seemed to understand after that, and we moved on, the topic archived, shoved under dusty boxes in a corner.

However, just recently, an article caught my eye. An article about a movement. The "Yes, All Women" movement. I read this and immediately realized that it was exactly what my friend and I had been discussing. (I found good articles here and here that really helped to explain part of the movement and what it's about, if you'd lie a good read). The entire movement really, I think, in its purest form, is focused on the recognition of the fear we women are raised in. And so, I'd like to, in a way, continue this conversation that I once had.


"Not all men attack women. Not all men rape, abuse, belittle, mock, or disrespect women. My life is full of men who don’t do these things. Men who respect women, men who walk with me at night so I’m not alone, men who don’t see me as an object of conquest. I love these men and I respect these men and I am so thankful for these men. And yet, even though I know so many of these trustworthy men, I still have pepper spray on my keychain at all times. I still make my plans in such a way that I am never alone by myself at night. " 

This quote really hit home for me.

Not all men, no.

But! Yes, all women.

Yes, all women have felt some kind of fear, whether from a real or imagined threat.

Have you ever stood at the locked door of your workplace at night for five minutes, terrified to go out, because what if someone's hiding? What if you're attacked? Have you ever been standing on a street corner alone in broad daylight while your family explores the corner store, and felt the need to go find them because a stranger walked down the sidewalk and he looked at you? Have you ever been scared to turn someone down harshly because what if they take it wrong and they hurt you? Have you ever turned someone down harshly so that they could never get the wrong idea and take more than you wanted to give them?

For all of these except the last, the answer is yes for me. One happened only yesterday. And the last, I would hypothesize belongs to the girl who once broke my friend's heart.

I have no idea how to write about this, truth be told. But I feel like I must. I feel like, as a woman who has not yet been attacked but fears it nearly every day, I should speak out.

So I searched, mostly Twitter, and gathered a collection of images that I think address this. Perhaps after getting them up, I will know what I want to say.

This is a legitimate fear. This is something I, we, live with. And though we may be prepared, though we may be able to defend ourselves, I wish we didn't have to. I dream of a world where I can walk through a group of guys, anywhere, anytime, and not feel afraid. A world where I, and those like me, don't have to worry about strangers' glances. Don't have to worry about wandering hands. Don't have to carry pepper spray, hold their keys between their fingers, learn the best way to disable an attacker despite that we may never be attacked.

But it's also not all men, I know. I have many good friends who are guys, and I am comfortable around them both mentally and physically. Yet in some ways I am still wary because I am a woman and I know no other way, not anymore.

How do I best express this?

I wrote an English paper recently, about religion being (overall) beneficial for society. I specifically mentioned the Westboro Baptist Church, a church that has given a lot of religions, and I believe religion in general, a bad name. This church has 40 members. That's, like, one classroom full of people. That's nothing percent of New York City's population, much less the world's population, yet they've damaged the reputation of religion everywhere. Their voices and actions are so much louder than those with good intentions, who often are found working in the background, with a quiet effort to make the world a better place.

There are not a lot of men who would attack women, I think. There are not many who would go to such extremes. The majority of men are very genuinely good people, and (overall) beneficial for society. But this movement specifically mentions those who attack and abuse women. The attackers represent possibly sightly more than nothing percent of the world, yet women everywhere are wary of any man being like them. The voices and actions of these attackers are much louder than those with good intentions, who often are found working in the background, with a quiet effort to make the world a better place.

Hopefully that makes sense.

Their voices are loud and drown out much of the kindness that there is. I occasionally wonder why women still put up with men, and then I remember not even close to a majority are like the ones we fear.

The problem is that there is no way to tell the difference, like there might be with, say, a member of the Westboro Baptist Church. Women have no way to tell until either they are attacked, or left alone. Can you blame us for being cautious?

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say. I've begun to ramble. Of course, if the purpose of this is to continue that original conversation, to explain why a woman would behave the way she does, then I may still be on track. I'll stop here before I ramble on more. Women are cautious of the few, because their voices and actions are louder than the rest. That is why we act the way we do.

Okay, stopping. Right here. Definitely done.

Not all men, but yes all women.