I learned to hate my body at a young age. It probably started the day I watched Cinderella place her dainty feet in those glass slippers and realized I could never be a princess. I could easily sympathize with the ugly, loudmouthed stepsisters because I had big feet too. Those beautiful glass shoes were too big for me to fill...or too small, as the case may be. After all, they don't make glass slippers in the men's shoe department, which is where I have to shop.
Along with my big feet, I was chubby and had frizzy curls I could not control. I looked around and I noticed. The noticing might not have been a problem, except that comparison quickly followed as I learned that straight hair and small feet were "in," along with anyone who could be described by the adjectives tall, lithe, tan, and thin. I was none of those, so I must be "out."
In junior high and high school, I went through the "I am not, therefore I must become" stage that some women never leave. I took up running and nearly starved myself dieted to lose the chub. I dabbled in beauty products and shades of eye shadow, hoping to become someone I was not. As I tried to morph myself into the "in girl," a funny thing happened. No matter how hard I tried, I still was not tall, lithe, tan, or thin. My feet certainly had not shrunk. I could make my hair straight, but that project required the sacrifice of an hour I was not willing to give up because, well, "they" say you need your beauty's sleep too. I was no longer chubby, but I was still not Barbie--and I was not the "in girl" either. You know, the girl who gets noticed.
I will be the first to admit that I am a slow learner, and this particular lesson has taken me many, many years to learn. There are some lessons, though, that I hope I never stop learning, and this is one of them:
I am most powerful and effective when I am me.
It has taken years of heartache, but I have finally accepted that I will never be a good you. We women spend too much time living in comparison. We are observant...we notice the beautiful. By itself, this innate gift is a blessing. But when we allow ourselves to "stack up the competition," so to speak, we get into trouble. We abandon the pursuit of growth in pursuit of imitation.
I am calling for a rebellion, a linking of arms against the pursuit of imitation. Can we women just agree to boycott comparison? To acknowledge the mountains other women are climbing without diminishing our own? Can we seek out beauty that goes beyond small feet, straight hair, and a body that will not survive the rigors of aging?
I will take up this banner and carry it proudly. Right now, that means I am going to climb a mountain that is new for me. I'm going to slip my big feet in some big 'ole running shoes and complete a marathon. Notice I did not say "run"--because I might walk some and that's okay. My goal is to finish. I
mentioned that I have tried to become a runner in the past. I can't
tell you how many times I have quit in discouragement as I have failed
to achieve a certain time or complete a particular race someone else has
championed. Then I realized I can just be me. I may not be able to run with the Olympians, or even YOU, but that doesn't mean I can't run. I am abandoning imitation in the pursuit of growth.
What is it for you? What mountain have you given up climbing because it is not someone else's Everest? Maybe today is the day to strap on your hiking boots and start climbing--because you will never be me, but you are a pretty darn good you. And maybe that mountain in front of you will allow you to become an even better you. A stronger, wiser, more compassionate, more vibrant you.
THAT girl is beautiful...big feet, frizzy hair, and all.
