I'm almost 50, and the whole body image thing is still an issue. I weigh more now than I ever have in my life. I'm a bit less active (arthritis keeps me from really pounding the pavement), post-menopause, and on medication that tends to make one gain weight.
I hate it.
I hate looking in the mirror and seeing what I see. I hate stepping on the scale. I hate that clothes that fit a couple of months ago don't fit now. I hate that I hate all this.
Does it ever get better?
I tell myself that I'm good enough. I am pretty. I'm smart. I'm attractive. The clothes I wear are beautiful, and fit me well.
And it's still not enough.
When will I allow myself to be happy with who I am, physically? When will that message sink in? How do we keep our daughters, our sisters, our friends from this kind of thinking? (I know I would never say to a friend or family member the sort of things I allow myself to say to the mirror.)
I imagine myself 15 years from now. Will I allow my hair to go gray? Will I finally throw away the Spanx? Will I go for days without touching my makeup drawer?
Our bodies change. Women's bodies are particularly amazing, given the power we have to create life, carry a child, give birth. But that means a lot of stress on our bodies. We age. We struggle with illness. We should be fine with that. I should be fine with that.
But I'm not. Harumph.
Update: This is what I'm talking about: size 000 at the LA Times.