Sexy Times- Totally Not Depressing…

Okay, Shira. Get out of bed, stop being depressed and write.

The truth is, when it comes to body image, I don’t even know where to begin. As long as I can remember, maybe since the age of 10 years old, I have been insecure about my body. I realize that this is a tale as old as time, and that I am far from unique in my disappointment with my own physique, but it’s unfortunately become such a big part of my life, and so many people’s lives that I have talked to, that I feel compelled to write about it.

If you ask me, my horrifying shape is part of the reason I haven’t made it as an actress, and probably the main reason why I was rejected by all of the people I have ever been rejected by throughout my entire life. (Okay, maybe my lack on confidence had something to do with it, but shhhhh…)

Here’s my “thing,” my narrative, just so it’s out there in plain sight for everyone to see, including myself. I have always been petite, as an adult I stand at 5’1” and can weigh anywhere from 94 lbs (on my best days) to 115 lbs. (At the moment, I’m at the full 115lbs.) I have relatively long and skinny arms and legs, but my middle section is, and has always been short and wide, and my waistline is the same measurement as people who stand much taller than I do, or have much larger frames in general. I have learned to love most of my lady-parts, including my breasts, although they aren’t the quintessential, bouncy, perky, tiny uplifted nipples you salivate over during Game Of Thrones (RIP) either, and sometimes I get down about that, too. Mine are rather taut, which is cool I guess… but I’m still insecure to the point where if they are not getting special attention during sex I assume it’s because they are hideous and probably everything else is, too. I have a shape similar to my mothers, although she’s had three children and I have had exactly none. So, hearing the phrase again and again, “an olive with toothpicks,” whether it’s referring to my mom or me (intended as a joke aka not meant to be become deeply ingrained in my brain for me to stress over for the rest of time) is now how I have become comfortable describing myself.

I don’t want to live this way. In fact, I don’t want to live this way so much that I have actively worked on NOT feeling inadequate, but it seems every way I try, I come up short of becoming somebody who is happy with my body.

So first, there’s the “I’m going to work out every day and eat healthy so I can become super fit and change my body” plan. Unfortunately, this plan never seems to end in satisfied completion. I’m not lazy, per se. I consider myself active and can usually jump into yoga classes, or other work out classes fairly easily and keep up- although this is becoming increasingly more difficult with age, but when it comes to working out consistently 4-5 days a week, every week, for as long as we both shall live, I tend to lose motivation after a few solid months of doing great and then I just fall out of the habit. The eating healthy thing usually is a bust, as I don’t eat super unhealthily to start (sometimes I splurge and overindulge, sure, but on average I have a relatively healthy diet.) I also just don’t believe in cutting out foods that I love, or feeling like I have to punish myself to strive for a shape that, truthfully, might not be realistic for my body type. I have been in varying levels of good and great health over the years, and yet never have I felt like, “I did it! My body is finally a tiny hour glass shape!”

When it comes to fitness, it’s hard to feel like you can make little changes and still make a difference. It always seems like you have to make significant lifestyle changes and that’s extremely difficult. (I’m sure I have friends reading this who are dedicated to their fitness and cringing- please feel free to leave wisdom in comments!)

Another thing I tell myself to get through the day is that it’s just unrealistic expectations put in place by society, where women’s bodies are constantly on display, and I shouldn’t give into it. Whether it’s hiring those twiggy, goddess-like creatures for every job that requires being in the public eye, and then photo shopping the shit out of half of them anyway, or the FaceTune app that lets social media models and influencers and everyone who downloads the app smooth out their faces and change their body shape, OR just super pretty, skinny, fit girls posting bikini pics all over Insta or dating apps. It’s enough to make your average woman, or at least me, slip into that familiar downward spiral of negative thoughts.

An option that I contemplate often is some form of plastic surgery. It should be noted that there’s no real way I could afford some full on procedure, like liposuction, but Groupon always seems to have tempting deals on low-ish cost weight loss options. I constantly go back and forth between thinking I could just do some simple procedure and finally just be happy, and feeling like going through with that would be catering to the worst part of my psyche and giving into the outrageous societal pressure to have a “perfect” body. Thinking along these lines always makes my heart hurt a little, though admittedly, I can’t tell if it’s because I long to know what it would be like to have just been born with that slender yet voluptuous frame, or if it’s because I should be cherishing the way I look, and I just cannot.

Of course there’s another way of thinking entirely, which is that our bodies are not here to be goggled at, or to be made a spectacle of, and I do appreciate that frame of thought. Some things that I will do that tend to work at least for a while is talk to myself and tell myself I am beautiful inside and out. When I look in the mirror, it’s so easy to jump straight to “blegh,” but if I catch myself doing it, I will pick out one or two things that I like about myself instead, and try and default to the positives. I buy clothes that are flattering and comfortable, but without being too restrictive on what I “need” to do to dress for my body type.

But still, there are triggers. There are things I absolutely long for, like, have I mentioned bikini pics? How I long to be able to be photographed in a bathing suit, like I see so many other women do of all sorts of different body types and still look amazing… and not feel like I am the only one who looks disgusting.

The point is, now that I have felt this way for 20 years, whether I’ve been in great shape or average, my body is my body is my body is my body. Now that I’m at my heaviest, of course I look back to how I was, just a year ago, and long to shed just a few pounds so that I can fit back into my favorite dresses and tops. It’s a shame that one year ago, I didn’t appreciate what I had either. 

What I really long for is to just be confident with and proud of the body I have, and demolish this false narrative that I either have to change completely, or merely accept my shortcomings and move on.

All I want, really, is to look in the mirror, no matter what I’m wearing, what angle I’m looking at and what rolls I see, and genuinely think “I love everything about my body.”