One of the best things about getting married is in-laws. Lyndsay is married to Wes, which makes her my best-friend-in-law. But I would like to think we would have found each other regardless of Misters. Life would be so much less lovely without her. Meet Lyndsay of Lyndsay and the Johnsons.
Until I got pregnant in my mid twenties, I closely resembled a piece of asparagus (I can prove it here). That’s a lot of years to look like a lanky vegetable! But before we go any further, I will add that I never had a bad body image growing up. I never thought I was “too this” or “too that.” I may have had the one odd week where I tried to stuff my bra with shoulder pads until my mom caught me. But in 8th grade, sometimes you just get a little desperate when your vest hangs on you like an adolescent boy… Every once in a while the girls that worked at 5-7-9 (you know you shopped there, too) gave me a hard time for needing to buy a size zero. But when it came down to it, I didn’t agonize over my appearance.
I was aware of my slender frame. But I was an equestrian and a runner. All I knew was that my body was skilled at both. And much more than that, I had a mother who told me how beautiful I was (and am). I have never heard my mom speak negatively about her own body. This is remarkable to me. Like everyone, if she was so inclined, I am sure she could find things to complain about. But she doesn’t. And I have a sneaking suspicion why. Her mother, my Granny, told her how beautiful she was (and is). Something about my Granny was quite transcendent. She was always radiant, stylish, and comfortable in her body at every age. And that was so appealing to those who knew her—everyone could sense those qualities that set her apart. Her personality and self-worth that shone through just added to her unique physical beauty. And I felt more beautiful when I was around her. My mother makes me feel the same way. I’ve always felt very lucky to have the genes that I’ve been dealt (inside and out).
Then I got pregnant with Finn. I worked a desk job and gained more than 50 pounds. I was happy to be round and pregnant, and didn’t sweat the weight gain one bit. But after he was born, I learned a new fact about my body. It hangs on to weight when I nurse! And I nursed for a year. So I spent a year with some serious curves—serious for me, anyway. And for the most part, I loved it. But I started to notice a trend. Many of the other women I knew complained about their bodies. OK, all of them did. There was not one woman I knew who didn’t have something negative to say about her body. (I take that back—I don’t think I’ve ever heard Reachel Bagley here ever utter an unkind word about her bodily bequest). But it was almost like the “in” thing to do. Women just love to beat themselves up about anything that they can. My house isn’t clean enough. My kids aren’t reading at age 1. My (fill in the blank) isn’t as nice as hers. My hair is too curly. My hair is too straight. My chest is flat. My chest is too big. You name it, we love to say it. And somewhere along the way I went from feeling just fine about my body, to feeling like I had to find lots of things wrong with my body. That is a very very tiring habit. A downright unhealthy, even unholy habit! I knew that I was damaging myself in thinking that way. So I changed my mind and took some action.
We all know that we have to feel good on the inside to feel good about the outside. But let’s face it. We want to look good in the mirror. No matter how thin or curvy we are, we are always going to gauge our physical appearance. I just try to go about it differently than I used to. Since having my my second child 2½ years ago, I have made these changes in how I relate to my body:
First, I banished the scale to the nether regions of the house, only to be used to weigh luggage for air travel (because weighing myself was becoming an addictive and wholly unnecessary habit).
Second, I decided that as long as I am healthy, I am doing just fine. My clothes are my system of measurement. If they fit, great. If they start to feel too small (or big), I look at my lifestyle. Am I making healthy decisions? Maybe healthy for me is a few pounds and sizes larger at certain stages. But as soon as I start feeling unhealthy, things have to change.
Third, I have to make sure I have my life spiritually in order. That connection is vital for me to feel uplifted and happy with who I am. When I start to slip, I notice the negative self image creeping in. Some prefer meditation. Others need prayer. Possibly yoga. Even quiet, reflective, contemplative time can serve this purpose. It makes a difference, even in small amounts.
And finally, I make sure that I remind myself of some crucial things on a regular basis:
• Our bodies are meant to change. My body is different in the morning than it is at night. It is different before, during, and after pregnancy. And it is certainly not the same body I had at 18, nor should it be! I feel there is an unhealthy obsession with “getting back to our pre pregnancy size,” or even worse, our high school or college size. We are not frozen in time. We have evolving bodies that are meant to change. Let them do so. Be the right body for the right season in life.
• Stop comparing ourselves to others. Just don’t do it. Do whatever you have to do to stop comparing, and work on that every day.
• I am beautiful—even when I am tired, or cranky, or sick, or stressed. It is important to tell myself I am beautiful. Even if I don’t feel beautiful at that moment. That’s when I need to hear it most. And I need to hear it from myself.
• I am beautiful—even when I am tired, or cranky, or sick, or stressed. It is important to tell myself I am beautiful. Even if I don’t feel beautiful at that moment. That’s when I need to hear it most. And I need to hear it from myself.
I am now in my early thirties, I’ve had two babies, and don’t plan to stop there. While sometimes I can still see that asparagus 8thgrader hovering around my long torso, I can also see the woman I’ve become, thanks to my children. My hips finally fill out my jeans appropriately. And I no longer stuff my bra with shoulder pads (because I can buy them padded in the first place). I am unique. And my goal as a mother is to make sure my daughter feels as loved and beautiful and valued as I did growing up—that she is perfect as she is. It is my hope that women can remember to celebrate their own differences more and more. That’s just the way it’s meant to be.
Feed me fashionably fresh
