Archive for September, 2009:
My neighbor told me he thought I looked better when I was heavier. He didn’t exactly come out with it right away, but kept alluding to it until I finally got it.
At first, a few weeks ago, he stopped his car on his way home, leaned out his window and said I was looking leaner by the day. I fondled his two tiny dogs while we chatted about my Aikido training.
The Tyra Show just submitted a query asking for:
Do you have a body part that you absolutely hate and sometimes feel ashamed of? Are you constantly finding ways to cover it up or hide it? Do you always feel anxious whenever out in public, perhaps fearing that others are staring at you because of a self-perceived body flaw? If you have serious issues with one of your body parts, and wish you could change it, contact us.
I have many experiences as a child/young adult when I was to tall or felt out of place. I remember the first time I kissed a boy, on a dare of course, and I was taller then him and felt so uncomfortable. I suppose a good part of it was that I was doing something that maybe I shouldn’t however when you had to look down on the person to kiss them I would say that is really weird.
You don’t have to sleep with or have been raped by your dad to feel bad about yourself, your body or your sexuality. The Mackenzie Phillips revelation, while shocking, is more common that most of us would like to believe. 1 out of every 6 American women have been the victims of an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime (National Institute of Justice & Centers for Disease Control & Prevention. Prevalence, Incidence and Consequences of Violence Against Women Survey. 1998.).
Body image does not only effect women who feel they are overweight, underweight/skinny women are taunted also. In a community where curves are accepted and the more “bootylicious” the better I was constantly put down by family, friends, and acquaintances for being a size 0.
I never had an eating disorder but I did have a high metabolism and at 28 years old, 5’9, and shopping in the juniors department my body image really caused me to be insecure as an adult woman and a mother. I had no curves, no love handles, nothing about my body said I was a “woman”. Those insecure feelings kept me out of the public eye for a while until I was comfortable enough to embrace it and make it work for me.
If you’re looking to build your platform, get contacted by the media, or sell your book, product or cause perhaps you’d you’d like to guest blog for my PR & Marketing blog.
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Today the world told me that I should leave my aches and pains to someone who really knows. Someone who has cancer, or a brain tumor, or whose leg has been chewed off by a wolf.
Today the world told me to let up a little, to not push so hard at doing. I ask myself, “What is rest?” And I must say he’s a poor acquaintance, and often unwelcome at my door.
Today the world told me that perhaps what I wish for is something not so big. A little loosening around the waist and eyes could be good, to let in a little more seeing and a little less thinking.
When my mother and her mother are exuberant they laugh in gulps and snorts and wild hog sloppiness that tell me the forest bleeds into them with leaves and dirt and all that is unsanitary and necessary.
When my mother and her mother are enchanting the world goes right for a very long time.
When my mother and her mother make emblems-after all we are descended from the first pope-and are not overly proud about it, but merely properly pleased, we feel closer to God, as if we had privilege before others, though deep down are sad, because we know there is no truth to that.
I’m afraid of what men would think of me if they saw me naked…or semi-naked. Some of the comments from Huffington Post on Jennifer Connelly’s red dress from from men are both heartening and scary.
One blog commentor wrote:
Ladies: this is NOT attractive. she appears a little too old to be wearing something so revealing; and what she is revealing looks a little too saggy to be revealed. maybe it’s her poor posture in the photo that’s doing it, but it makes me wince.
This weekend John Stevens, a 7th dan Aikikai and Buddhist priest came to our dojo, Bay Marin Aikido. Stevens, who has written over thirty books on Buddhism, Aikido and Asian culture, is considered one of the foremost authorities on Aikido. The experience was enriching, wild-hearted and intense.
Beginners and experienced Aikidokas (Aikido practitioners) were challenged by Stevens’ examples of how to practice. He demonstrated eight ways of practicing the first pillar of Aikido, Shiho-Nage, 4-directions throw, which we were then to practice. A bit of chaos ensued. The mood of the dojo was filled with excitement, joy, bewilderment, a place of opening, which had us laughing and sometimes straining to understand.
I was at an event recently when I was dissed. It wasn’t a mean diss, or even a conscious one for that matter. And that kind of made it worse.
I was talking to a colleague who I respect. We were chatting away and suddenly his head turned and locked. Silence. He became mesmerized. No, his brain froze or fried on the spot when a tall woman wearing a tight bright top revealing the exact shape of her breasts began to dance. Her pants hung so low you could almost glimpse her betty.
One of my friends said that she watches every single thing that goes into her mouth. She is from a back east society family. Her mother is called Bunny, and her friends Bitsy and Boo and would still wear tennis whites at the country club even when powder blue, yellow, and pink became allowed.
Scene: I am wolfing down my fifth gob of St. Andre triple crème cheese that has enough fat in it to feed half the starving children in Africa. My friend pulls a box of coconut milk out of her refrigerator and tells me that she drinks this daily.
My mother was an expert in hiding. She taught me how to hide my body. I learned never to show off my good traits but to mask my unattractive ones. I began to wonder what effect a life of hiding has on a person.
If you’re always looking for ways to not be seen, how do you speak out? How do you move through the world if you have an invisible cloak that has no magical powers other than to keep you in your own shadow? How can one be exuberant and thrilled about living if this exuberance is housed in a body that is a constant shame.