Recently I was at a friend's home enjoying a rare moment of watching cable tv when a commercial for a new fashion program popped on. The concept of the show is for the fashion designer to find a dress that fits the body type and occasion for the women participants. A new episode will highlight, Abbie, a military wife who is about to see her husband for the first time in several months since his deployment. The designer has Abbie try on a very flattering, body hugging, saucy little pink vintage dress that looks absolutely fabulous! When she stands in front of the mirror, all that Abbie can focus on, though, is how the dress clings to her body and how badly she thinks it make her tummy look. First of all, Abbie looked A-mazing in the dress. Second of all, Abbie's tummy didn't look bad in the dress at all - sure it pooched ever-so-slightly - but not to the extent that she carried on about it (she kept running her hands on her midsection as if to iron away her stomach's shape). And, thirdly, I highly doubt that her husband, after not seeing (or touching) his wife for several months, would have spent even a nanosecond of the time Abbie spent looking at, let alone scrutinizing, that one section of her body.
I instantly felt very, very sad for Abbie, but I also recognized her anxiety. I recognized her body image issue from a personal struggle but also as a struggle from every single one of my lady friends. I have yet to find a woman who has not over-critiqued herself standing in front of the mirror or who has deemed an outfit unworthy due to a body image issue even in the face of friends telling her how amazing she looks in it. I have a very clear memory of getting ready for girls not out and trying on an amazing low cut top to show my friends before heading out. All I could do was focus on the imperfect body that caused the material of the shirt to pucker in places that horrified me. One of my friends grabbed my face, looked me in the eyes, then dropped her glance and tilted her head towards my (amazing, if I do say so myself) cleavage and said, "Ummmmm, I don't think anyone's gonna notice your tummy." I giggled, considered her words, and, I'm embarrassed to say, changed the shirt.
All of this tummy talk led me to one of my favorite activities: people watching. People watching has always fascinated me and since I've been on a quest towards fierce love and acceptance of my body, I find myself noticing all the glorious variations of bodies that surround me. This past weekend while out and about, I turned my attention to women's midsections and the results were mind blowing. In my observations I came up with the, highly unscientific, conclusion that approximately .8% of the tummies I checked out could be deemed as "perfect." And those .8% women were fully clothed, so I'm left to wonder if their abs included any imperfections that couldn't be detected through clothing...and I have a creeping suspicion that even those ladies have their share self loathing moments in front of the mirror.
The most interesting part of my midsection review is that none of the bodies that I glanced at caused me repulsion. Yet I have, literally, been so repulsed by own body that I wouldn't even wear certain clothing because of the anxiety it caused me. And yet, there I was just noticing how stomachs looked and had no reaction other than just observing. How is it that an area of one's body can cause such tremendous personal turmoil and to another person it means nothing?
I've got a hunch – a gut feeling (pun intended) – that if I could look at myself through those some non-critical, observation-only eyes that I used this weekend, I'd notice a much different me. Yes, you there lady in the mirror, your stomach does pooch out. Hey, self, yep – two pregnancies (not to mention puberty, weight gain/loss, age) has, indeed, left some stretch marks and a jiggly belly. There is nothing more to say, feel, or critique here...so, walk away from the mirror and go have a big fierce day.
P.S. Check out this amazing song "Pot Belly" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ObVpeJ6U2G4
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