What a beautiful piece Amy! Firstly, I think you are freakin gorgeous and I’m so excited for the journey you’re on! As for our bodies… it makes me sad (and angry) that this continues to be such an issue with women. Women’s bodies are judged in a way men’s never are. I’m raising two daughters as well so trying to be a healthy role model. This might surprise some, but I never owned a scale and I don’t weigh myself. All I know is how I feel in my clothes. I’ve always led an active life and ate healthy. Not for thinness, but for strength! Around my forties the same tricks (healthy diet, movement and moderate exercise) stopped working and I began developing a belly, and with it- shame. Last year when I finally learned about menopause and hormones I was able to make a few adjustments that didn’t feel punitive or harsh. I lost the belly fat and became strong in my body. I am now able to do yoga poses I couldn’t in my twenties! But - I was rather upset that the comments I received from my dearest female friends (who were supposed to know better) was: “look at you disappearing!” I was shocked and hurt. I associate “disappearing with eating disorders. This wasn’t at all my goal. As a yoga teacher, encouraging people (especially women) to take up space is central to my teaching!! My aim was to get stronger so I can take active space in my life, with more energy!
Thank you for all the links. I will follow them. But one thing I still hope that we can address is women’s attitudes towards other women’s bodies. A lot of these harsh judgments about our bodies actually come from women, not men. I’m thinking how Adele and Rebel Wilson were shamed when they lost weight. I’m pointing this out because we are more familiar with “fat phobia” but don’t discuss the other extreme end. What makes me infinitely sad is that whether we are “too fat” or “too thin” we women can’t win. Our bodies will be judged. And often, by other women. So maybe we should stop playing into this? Sorry, this has become a long comment…
Imola, thank you for this thoughtful comment. The conversations around anything I write that happen here in the comments are the best part of writing Living in 3D. You never need to apologize for having a lot to say: I always feel honored. So thank you. Thank you first of all for the kind compliment and yes, I share your sorrow and anger about how women need to continue to struggle with this our all damn lives. I appreciate your dedication to your strength, to your yoga practice. And I understand how the comments from close friends wounded you. It is so wise, as you say, that you encourage women to take up space in your yoga teaching. And whatever space our particular body takes up in the world is ours alone to own and cherish and celebrate and we women need to stand alongside one another, cherishing each other's bodies just as they are. When you point out that women can wield the harshest judgements about other women's bodies, I understand this intimately and painfully. Some of my so-called closest female friends (one in particular) wounded me several times, chiding me on weight gain and body odor, until I finally had to end our friendship. But it settled deep within me, her criticisms, her implication that my weight gain was a moral failing; that she was being a good friend by pointing out what I needed to do "to fix myself." And I also agree with you that while fat phobia (deservedly, I believe) gets a lot of attention because unfortunately fat women do suffer discrimination in all kinds of ways, women with thin bodies, or conforming bodies, as I've heard it phrased, can also suffer prejudice and judgement and a kind of jealousy that "others" them--way too often from other women. I wouldn't be honest if I didn't acknowledge I do it, too. But now I am onto myself. I catch myself in those judgements, I look at the shadows beneath them that will teach me something about myself, and how I can grow from those realizations. Yes, we need to stop playing into the "too fat" or "too thin" script that our patriarchal society has cast women into but that we women perpetuate all too often, against one another. Thank you for bringing this important point of view to our conversation. I appreciate you, Imola!
Oh Amy, I could talk about this subject for hours. My “best friend” in the kibbutz, who I shared a room with from age 12-16 was constantly pointing out all the things that were wrong with me. She’d write me loving letters, beautifully decorated with hearts, saying how much she loved me despite being so ugly. Seriously. Looking back at my teenage self, it’s now easy to see that she was jealous. But I was too young to know better and it caused some serious damage to my self-esteem. I don’t know how I didn’t end up with an eating disorder between my “best friend” and my father’s degrading comments.
I’m glad you are learning to embrace and love the shape and size you are. It’s so important. It’s one of the greatest honour I have as a yoga teacher to help women step into their power. I still get teary when I see all these women in front of me with their arms spread wide and their hearts wide open. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world! I appreciate you back Amy! Own your power!
Thank you Sallie, I am so glad and thank you for leaving a comment. I am so inspired by you and how you model beautiful, vibrant, strong aging and the way in which you are so dedicated to your workouts with Astrid, Catherine and Janet. Every time I see a reel on instagram of you all with your trainer, I miss my Stockholm friends and think that looks like such a fun way to move and strengthen our beautiful bodies together.
Amy, of all the personal essays penned by you, this is the most vulnerable, raw, honest and real one thus far, and it made me tear up to read your diary entry, especially this: "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world."
I understand that you felt a tinge of betrayal of your dear mother for having written those words, yet I'm so proud of you for digging deep and laying bare your truth. I see how deeply your mother's well-meaning suggestions had cut into your psyche and left a wound there--one that has taken the rest of your life to heal from. I believe that we each carry a scar from our youth, and parents aren't always aware of the indelible marks their words leave in their children's minds even when they are supposedly "adults." Science has shown that our brains don't fully mature until the age of around 25. No wonder your hurt has affected you so deeply.
I resonate quite a lot with your experience as I gained my "Freshman 20" and my parents could not even recognize me when I returned home for Christmas. After that, I spent a great deal of energy in dieting and exercising. Then I returned to Hong Kong for the summer, and the salesladies at clothing stores told me I would need size "L." I was devastated! Most women in my hometown are stick thin, yet they still strive for thinner. It was an impossible standard.
Besides size, I also grew up with the "ideal aesthetics" based on Western standards. For example, Asian eyes are too small, and the Japanese invented a surgery to open up the eyes by cutting a line above the eye lid. My mom urged me to do it. I refused. She also urged me to fix my teeth with braces. I refused. Somehow, I just wanted to remain "me." But her messaging was loud and clear--that I wasn't beautiful enough. I needed to be fixed. Then, even at this age, she would urge me to put on whitening lotion to keep my skin fair and smooth. She went for a laser procedure to remove her facial age spots so her skin looks like a baby's. I wonder, "What for?" It seems that the "male gaze" has permanently hijacked her own eyes.
The male gaze and the judgmental ways women view ourselves and one another all make up the patriarchal water we swim in. So we'll always be fighting against the current and within ourselves to some degree. But I see you've come a long way in embracing your own body and allowing that brilliant sparkle to shine ever brighter by the day. Let's continue to embrace and enjoy the house of our spirit, and make the best use of the remaining of our days (on the island of our plane crash ;-)!!!)
Thank you Louisa for this kind, and thoughtful comment. I feel so seen and understood, and appreciate it. You detected the exact line that brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it, about this feeling that my body was letting down my mother, who I trusted and loved so much. Thank you for bearing witness to how hard that was to acknowledge but that also it's a sign of how far I've come in excavating those hurt parts of my younger self and bring them to the surface.
I appreciated you sharing how you, too, fell victim to the shame and pressure around the classic college freshman weight gain. And yes, the messages received from your mother must have hurt a great deal. What an important realization, though, that you understand the male gaze has hijacked your mother's view of herself and you, and that perhaps helps to lay aside her comments for you to be "fixed."
Yes, let's continue to fight against the current in the patriarchal waters we swim in. Thank you for seeing my sparkle that has nothing to do with my body size or an arbitrary number on the scale. The house of our spirit, as you so beautifully describe it, is where we can truly rejoice and be ourselves.
And ha! Yes...the reference to our new understanding of how we're stranded on this earth from the moment we arrived, with that "plane crash" analogy, we both appreciate dependent only on ourselves, essentially, from the very start.
Yes, Amy, you have indeed gone far in excavating those hurt parts of your younger self and brought them to the surface. I've witnessed all your hard work to arrive at this point. I remember how you avoided the shovel in the very beginning of your soul's journey, and look at you now! You're holding up your shovel after the excavation, with pride :-)
Your vulnerably powerful essay has opened up a safe space for many women to share their stories about their respective struggles with their bodies, including mine. Thank you so much for doing that and allowing us to connect on your page!
I do love the new "plane crash" analogy. It makes me giggle to think about it, and lightens up my day when I hit an obstacle or an emotional low. I also love the "kayak" analogy, which helps me to be realistic and resilient at the same time. We cannot change the water we're born into and continue to live with, but we can all learn to adapt to the currents and keep moving forward. As for that scale and the arbitrary meaning its numbers imply, perhaps we would all feel lighter to throw it out of our kayaks ;-)
Consider the scale tossed out of the kayak! Thanks Louisa for these thoughtful and kind comments. I am humbled by the open, honest and vulnerable sharing on this topic here in the comments. A sign that we very much need to talk about this.
I read this earlier today, and I had to let it sit a bit. I don't know many women our age who are comfortable with their bodies. I'm ashamed that I feel shame about mine. I want to be more evolved, you know? But we grew up with so much we weren't even aware of. Not to mention what we were aware of. It's very much a work in progress for me.
Thank you Rita for reading and for your thoughtful comment. All of this around our women's bodies--our perceptions and our experience, society's messaging--it all needs to steep a bit, doesn't it, but every time I go there and examine it more closely, I peel away another layer of the shame and the pain and then I can release more of it. It's a gift to have more awareness now, even if I wish the younger me could have had it, too.
"You look so pretty, you could be a plus-size model"--my mother, circa 1987
I'm a decade younger than you and still sorting out my relationship with food. I feel like it's a lifelong sorting out.
Thank you for the brutal and beautiful honestly. When I think about the hours we women could have spent pursuing joy and art and books rather than restricting ourselves into smaller and smaller boxes it makes me weep.
I so appreciate this comment, Dina, thank you. Our well-meaning mothers, swimming in the same waters in which we're all so close to drowning. You've got a decade head start, and that's something. I really felt your painful observation about the time we women could have spent on joy and art and books (and building and making things, whatever our passion) rather than putting ourselves into smaller boxes. Now for the first time in my life the joy, art and books and creative things I love are not being sacrificed on the altar of the better, improved (read: thinner) me. Joyful possession of my body is definitely still a work in progress but I am feeling so much lighter about it now.
Oh, Amy. That passage from your journal at the tender age of 19 coupled with this sentence: "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world." I had to pause and sit with what that brought up in me. Wow I feel that.
I was raised by a hard-working single mom who always fought against her size. When I was a young girl, she would bring me with her to Weight Watchers and I would gaze at all the women lined up to step on that scale, stripping down their garments and jewelry in the hopes that the numbers went down instead of up. Moods being dependent on which direction that number went. Having a front row to that had such an impression on me. I battled the scale for decades.
I no longer place my body on the scale but there's always a reel of comparative images in my mind - at this time last year, I was able to wear that outfit and it's too tight now. Or when images pop up as memories on my phone, I instantly compare my size in that photo with today. Every time. I don't need a scale to shame me. I do it fine on my own.
Comparison is the thief of joy, as they say, and even more is robbed when we are comparing ourselves with past versions of ourselves. The "I could do it then why can't I now" litany of inner dialogue.
I am so thankful that you and other gorgeously gifted writers and putting this down on the page. We don't need to hide this from conversations.
I am getting better about it - because I am exposing it to the light. Airing it out. Getting curious about the patterns and asking compassionate questions.
You, my friend, are radiant in those photos!
Thank you for the mention and, once again, we are synchronous in where our pen takes us. xoxoxo
Allison, you pinpointed the very sentence that as I wrote it made tears spring to my eyes. "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world." It was the truth, but it was painful to acknowledge and it felt like a bit of betrayal of my mother to even write it. Yet I know that only by being honest with all of it, including the shadows, can we inch our way to coming into wholeness.
Thank you for all you share here so tenderly and honestly. I had my own stint with Weight Watchers in 2017, with the weekly weigh-ins. I knew somewhere inside me that this was all wrong for me, would only take me further down the path of giving rein to Mean Girl in my head who wanted me in impossibly skinny jeans. And yet I got in line, and let that number mean everything about my worth: if I was "good" that week, or "bad." As most of these efforts do, it helped me lose some weight but of course I gained it all back--until the next diet or program came along. Like Kristi Koeter, now I've given up dieting, settling into the mostly vegan way of eating I enjoy. And getting sober helped eliminate the sugar of the alcohol in my diet.
I do that same thing of comparing myself in past photos, my "thinner" self and my current self, I totally get that litany of inner dialogue. What works for me every time is to talk tenderly to myself as I would to one of my daughters being hard on herself. "That must feel awful, honey. I know you're feeling pain right now, and that's okay. Remember you are beautiful just as you are. I am here. I'm listening. I love you."
Let's stay curious, my friend, keep moving toward the light.
Thank you for the comment on my radiance. It makes me smile; a book I bought last year was called Radiant Rebellion: Reclaim Aging, Practice Joy, and Raise a Little Hell by Karen Walrond who also writes here on Substack. Really excellent read.
Keep moving towards the light. That’s where we find our radiance, right?
I am in a season where I know stepping into and visiting the shadow is crucial work. Hard and painful yet necessary. And the kind that helps us get closer to the true light of our nature. The juxtaposition of the dark and light is a full life. And I’m here for it all.
My mother was and elegant 5'9" and 118 lbs most of her life and I was her chubby, awkward daughter. I remember watching her trim the fat off a cheap cut of meat and then going into my bedroom and drawing with marker on my inner thighs where I would trim my own fat off as I held the knife in my left hand. Thank goodness I chickened out.
It's been a battle my whole life, food has been a comfort, it's meant love as if often does in Jewish or Italian homes. Maybe all homes, I don't know. Currently, it's my go-to for stress. Ironically, I spent almost ten years parading around with nothing on but a gstring, and still considered myself fat. When I look at those photos, I was perfect. I had no idea.
A decade or so back I had a YouTube video series called Middle-Aged Lazy about being middle-aged where I started off showing off my overweight body (in bra & undies) in all its imperfection. Looked like acceptance, but really, I'd hoped it would motivate me to lose weight, or at least not gain any more.
I loved my body after I came out of a two-week stint in the hospital for severe colitis. I'd lost so much weight I was a size 8, which for me, was tiny. My pants had to be tied on. I loved it and took so many photos of myself life that, my collarbones sticking out like basketball hoops.
I got myself on Ozempic and Weight Watchers (not the first time I'd been to WW) two years ago, lost 60 lbs and came within 10 lbs of my goal weight and had to go off Ozempic. I felt better (I'd been up to 220, totally unhealthy) I'd been thrilled with my new body, loved the way my face looked and like your 19 year old self, rewarded myself with clothes I loved wearing and showing myself off in
It's been creeping back and I find myself spending literally hours of time lost online looking for a way to afford Ozempic without insurance. I hate it. Also, the 12 lbs I've gained back have successfully cut me to the quick.
The new plan? At 67, I have become a nude model for an art school, hoping, like I did with the video series, that it will keep me from gaining any more weight, and help me accept my body as it is.
I don't imagine it will. It goes deeper than that.
At 67 and 34 years sober, I'd like to imagine all my issues have been handled. They have not and while I KNOW that thinner is better is a cultural construct, it's still there in my head. I'm still judging myself and the voice in my head is still calling the shots and telling me things like "if no one sees you eat it, it doesn't count."
When does it end?
Thank you for opening this up, I try my best not to think about it, but I also follow Nan Tepper and her brave journey of self exploration.
Jodi, wow. Thank you for this. For all of this. Your honesty and vulnerability and openness. Sharing your stories with us. The one about your mom and trimming the fat off your thighs; she wouldn't have expected you to follow through on that, or? That took my breath away.
I love how you've been brave about being out in the world in your body, with the You Tube series and now as a nude model. That is chutzpah!, says this Jewish woman to another: I bow to you. And even if you acknowledge there is still work to be done, awareness can be everything. We can look away but only for so long. The deeper truth will out.
I think it ends with having love and compassion for ourselves, at least for me. That's the ending and the beginning of something better and different for us women. Keep showing up just as you are. I am so glad you're here--and yes, Nan is so brave and true in her writing.
My bathroom scale broke a few years ago. I gleefully tossed it out and haven't replaced it. But that Thinner Is Worthier conditioning dies hard, so hard. I still detest going to the doctor and stepping on that damn scale, and I still sometimes pine for those brief periods in my life when I was as at the arbitrary weight I thought I should be -- and all of those times were times of great stress. May we all be free of that noise!
I have learned you can say no thank you to getting on the scale at the doctor's office. Life-changing. It was so great the first time I did that and the nurse didn't bat an eye. Absolutely no judgment.
Jan, glad to know another gleeful tosser of the scale. And yes, same for me: when I was at my thinnest were times of great stress, most recently going through a divorce and then when lack of time for exercise hit with full time caregiving for my mom, up the weight goes again. The see-saw of weight loss-gain that I am trying to make peace with, to constantly remind myself that my worth has nothing to do with an arbitrary number.
Bravo, Amy, for a big, bold, vulnerable post. And thank you for including me among such esteemed names. I'm a Kate Mann fan but had missed her message to throw away the scale. In my experience, the judgment scale is much harder to get rid of.
I love the new entry you've written for yourself, because it hints as much at discovery as it does acceptance. It's a bold new time in your life!
And this passage here tells me you have a strong why for the work you're doing. You're not just healing yourself. You're doing the work for the generations that come after. "I want to be a good role model for my daughters, now 30 and 32. I want them to own their bodies in a way that their mother and grandmother could not and to embrace their healthy appetites—for food, for life, for everything they desire."
Wow, Amy. As someone who has been at war with my body for most of my life, and is now—at age 47–learning and longing to raise that white flag of peace and acceptance, your reflections land right on time for me. They are tender and brave and unflinching.
In recent years, I’ve been both drawn and driven toward somatic healing and embodiment practices, and I am astonished how entrenched all of this is for me. This lifelong dance. I have many notebooks, similar to yours, that I discovered in my “Box of Shame” two summers ago (now renamed my “Box of Pain”). But the harmful inner dialogue goes back far longer, beyond the journals or even memory. However, equally astonishing is how possible and real living amends are between my physical vessel and various inner parts, even after all this time. I’ve been doing some weighty writing lately (terrible pun intended) on my long, dark and secretive history of disordered eating/body shame, and just the fact that I’m willing to wade into old, murky and muddy waters whisper to me that I’m on the right path. If I keep going, I trust the lotus will appear. 🪷
Because with each passing year, I’m increasingly aware that the one true love story we all seek is indeed possible and resides inside of us. We just have to know where to look.
What beautiful, vulnerable reflections, Jennifer, thank you. Turning your "box of shame" into a "box of pain" is a far better way to look at it, to gently poke at those wounds and see what they have to teach us. I love how you phrased this: "equally astonishing is how possible and real living amends are between my physical vessel and various inner parts, even after all this time." Yes, yes, yes! I look forward to you sharing in your own writing about your explorations into this topic. Yes, we do have to look into all the dark places to finally get the lightness of being we crave. And this: "the one true love story...resides in each of us." Thank you for being a gift in my life, too.
Loved reading this Amy… I imagine a high percentage of adult women have those diary entries that “yell” at us to lose 10 lbs by (insert unrealistic date). I think of your daughters and the insane amount of women’s body images thrown at them every day. I’m glad you’re there to help them love themselves unconditionally.
Thank you Sally for your kind and thoughtful comment; yes, I see it as a great gift, this opportunity to shift the narrative for my daughters in what I model for them. And they are healthy in that regard, thank God, with no hang-ups about food or weight loss obsession.
What a beautiful piece Amy! Firstly, I think you are freakin gorgeous and I’m so excited for the journey you’re on! As for our bodies… it makes me sad (and angry) that this continues to be such an issue with women. Women’s bodies are judged in a way men’s never are. I’m raising two daughters as well so trying to be a healthy role model. This might surprise some, but I never owned a scale and I don’t weigh myself. All I know is how I feel in my clothes. I’ve always led an active life and ate healthy. Not for thinness, but for strength! Around my forties the same tricks (healthy diet, movement and moderate exercise) stopped working and I began developing a belly, and with it- shame. Last year when I finally learned about menopause and hormones I was able to make a few adjustments that didn’t feel punitive or harsh. I lost the belly fat and became strong in my body. I am now able to do yoga poses I couldn’t in my twenties! But - I was rather upset that the comments I received from my dearest female friends (who were supposed to know better) was: “look at you disappearing!” I was shocked and hurt. I associate “disappearing with eating disorders. This wasn’t at all my goal. As a yoga teacher, encouraging people (especially women) to take up space is central to my teaching!! My aim was to get stronger so I can take active space in my life, with more energy!
Thank you for all the links. I will follow them. But one thing I still hope that we can address is women’s attitudes towards other women’s bodies. A lot of these harsh judgments about our bodies actually come from women, not men. I’m thinking how Adele and Rebel Wilson were shamed when they lost weight. I’m pointing this out because we are more familiar with “fat phobia” but don’t discuss the other extreme end. What makes me infinitely sad is that whether we are “too fat” or “too thin” we women can’t win. Our bodies will be judged. And often, by other women. So maybe we should stop playing into this? Sorry, this has become a long comment…
Imola, thank you for this thoughtful comment. The conversations around anything I write that happen here in the comments are the best part of writing Living in 3D. You never need to apologize for having a lot to say: I always feel honored. So thank you. Thank you first of all for the kind compliment and yes, I share your sorrow and anger about how women need to continue to struggle with this our all damn lives. I appreciate your dedication to your strength, to your yoga practice. And I understand how the comments from close friends wounded you. It is so wise, as you say, that you encourage women to take up space in your yoga teaching. And whatever space our particular body takes up in the world is ours alone to own and cherish and celebrate and we women need to stand alongside one another, cherishing each other's bodies just as they are. When you point out that women can wield the harshest judgements about other women's bodies, I understand this intimately and painfully. Some of my so-called closest female friends (one in particular) wounded me several times, chiding me on weight gain and body odor, until I finally had to end our friendship. But it settled deep within me, her criticisms, her implication that my weight gain was a moral failing; that she was being a good friend by pointing out what I needed to do "to fix myself." And I also agree with you that while fat phobia (deservedly, I believe) gets a lot of attention because unfortunately fat women do suffer discrimination in all kinds of ways, women with thin bodies, or conforming bodies, as I've heard it phrased, can also suffer prejudice and judgement and a kind of jealousy that "others" them--way too often from other women. I wouldn't be honest if I didn't acknowledge I do it, too. But now I am onto myself. I catch myself in those judgements, I look at the shadows beneath them that will teach me something about myself, and how I can grow from those realizations. Yes, we need to stop playing into the "too fat" or "too thin" script that our patriarchal society has cast women into but that we women perpetuate all too often, against one another. Thank you for bringing this important point of view to our conversation. I appreciate you, Imola!
Oh Amy, I could talk about this subject for hours. My “best friend” in the kibbutz, who I shared a room with from age 12-16 was constantly pointing out all the things that were wrong with me. She’d write me loving letters, beautifully decorated with hearts, saying how much she loved me despite being so ugly. Seriously. Looking back at my teenage self, it’s now easy to see that she was jealous. But I was too young to know better and it caused some serious damage to my self-esteem. I don’t know how I didn’t end up with an eating disorder between my “best friend” and my father’s degrading comments.
I’m glad you are learning to embrace and love the shape and size you are. It’s so important. It’s one of the greatest honour I have as a yoga teacher to help women step into their power. I still get teary when I see all these women in front of me with their arms spread wide and their hearts wide open. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world! I appreciate you back Amy! Own your power!
I needed to read this
Thank you Sallie, I am so glad and thank you for leaving a comment. I am so inspired by you and how you model beautiful, vibrant, strong aging and the way in which you are so dedicated to your workouts with Astrid, Catherine and Janet. Every time I see a reel on instagram of you all with your trainer, I miss my Stockholm friends and think that looks like such a fun way to move and strengthen our beautiful bodies together.
Amy, of all the personal essays penned by you, this is the most vulnerable, raw, honest and real one thus far, and it made me tear up to read your diary entry, especially this: "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world."
I understand that you felt a tinge of betrayal of your dear mother for having written those words, yet I'm so proud of you for digging deep and laying bare your truth. I see how deeply your mother's well-meaning suggestions had cut into your psyche and left a wound there--one that has taken the rest of your life to heal from. I believe that we each carry a scar from our youth, and parents aren't always aware of the indelible marks their words leave in their children's minds even when they are supposedly "adults." Science has shown that our brains don't fully mature until the age of around 25. No wonder your hurt has affected you so deeply.
I resonate quite a lot with your experience as I gained my "Freshman 20" and my parents could not even recognize me when I returned home for Christmas. After that, I spent a great deal of energy in dieting and exercising. Then I returned to Hong Kong for the summer, and the salesladies at clothing stores told me I would need size "L." I was devastated! Most women in my hometown are stick thin, yet they still strive for thinner. It was an impossible standard.
Besides size, I also grew up with the "ideal aesthetics" based on Western standards. For example, Asian eyes are too small, and the Japanese invented a surgery to open up the eyes by cutting a line above the eye lid. My mom urged me to do it. I refused. She also urged me to fix my teeth with braces. I refused. Somehow, I just wanted to remain "me." But her messaging was loud and clear--that I wasn't beautiful enough. I needed to be fixed. Then, even at this age, she would urge me to put on whitening lotion to keep my skin fair and smooth. She went for a laser procedure to remove her facial age spots so her skin looks like a baby's. I wonder, "What for?" It seems that the "male gaze" has permanently hijacked her own eyes.
The male gaze and the judgmental ways women view ourselves and one another all make up the patriarchal water we swim in. So we'll always be fighting against the current and within ourselves to some degree. But I see you've come a long way in embracing your own body and allowing that brilliant sparkle to shine ever brighter by the day. Let's continue to embrace and enjoy the house of our spirit, and make the best use of the remaining of our days (on the island of our plane crash ;-)!!!)
Thank you Louisa for this kind, and thoughtful comment. I feel so seen and understood, and appreciate it. You detected the exact line that brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it, about this feeling that my body was letting down my mother, who I trusted and loved so much. Thank you for bearing witness to how hard that was to acknowledge but that also it's a sign of how far I've come in excavating those hurt parts of my younger self and bring them to the surface.
I appreciated you sharing how you, too, fell victim to the shame and pressure around the classic college freshman weight gain. And yes, the messages received from your mother must have hurt a great deal. What an important realization, though, that you understand the male gaze has hijacked your mother's view of herself and you, and that perhaps helps to lay aside her comments for you to be "fixed."
Yes, let's continue to fight against the current in the patriarchal waters we swim in. Thank you for seeing my sparkle that has nothing to do with my body size or an arbitrary number on the scale. The house of our spirit, as you so beautifully describe it, is where we can truly rejoice and be ourselves.
And ha! Yes...the reference to our new understanding of how we're stranded on this earth from the moment we arrived, with that "plane crash" analogy, we both appreciate dependent only on ourselves, essentially, from the very start.
Yes, Amy, you have indeed gone far in excavating those hurt parts of your younger self and brought them to the surface. I've witnessed all your hard work to arrive at this point. I remember how you avoided the shovel in the very beginning of your soul's journey, and look at you now! You're holding up your shovel after the excavation, with pride :-)
Your vulnerably powerful essay has opened up a safe space for many women to share their stories about their respective struggles with their bodies, including mine. Thank you so much for doing that and allowing us to connect on your page!
I do love the new "plane crash" analogy. It makes me giggle to think about it, and lightens up my day when I hit an obstacle or an emotional low. I also love the "kayak" analogy, which helps me to be realistic and resilient at the same time. We cannot change the water we're born into and continue to live with, but we can all learn to adapt to the currents and keep moving forward. As for that scale and the arbitrary meaning its numbers imply, perhaps we would all feel lighter to throw it out of our kayaks ;-)
Consider the scale tossed out of the kayak! Thanks Louisa for these thoughtful and kind comments. I am humbled by the open, honest and vulnerable sharing on this topic here in the comments. A sign that we very much need to talk about this.
All the more power and healing for tossing out that scale! Hooray, Amy!
Yes, I think we women very much need to talk about such things! Thanks again for doing this great service to all of us 😘🤗
I read this earlier today, and I had to let it sit a bit. I don't know many women our age who are comfortable with their bodies. I'm ashamed that I feel shame about mine. I want to be more evolved, you know? But we grew up with so much we weren't even aware of. Not to mention what we were aware of. It's very much a work in progress for me.
Thank you Rita for reading and for your thoughtful comment. All of this around our women's bodies--our perceptions and our experience, society's messaging--it all needs to steep a bit, doesn't it, but every time I go there and examine it more closely, I peel away another layer of the shame and the pain and then I can release more of it. It's a gift to have more awareness now, even if I wish the younger me could have had it, too.
"You look so pretty, you could be a plus-size model"--my mother, circa 1987
I'm a decade younger than you and still sorting out my relationship with food. I feel like it's a lifelong sorting out.
Thank you for the brutal and beautiful honestly. When I think about the hours we women could have spent pursuing joy and art and books rather than restricting ourselves into smaller and smaller boxes it makes me weep.
I so appreciate this comment, Dina, thank you. Our well-meaning mothers, swimming in the same waters in which we're all so close to drowning. You've got a decade head start, and that's something. I really felt your painful observation about the time we women could have spent on joy and art and books (and building and making things, whatever our passion) rather than putting ourselves into smaller boxes. Now for the first time in my life the joy, art and books and creative things I love are not being sacrificed on the altar of the better, improved (read: thinner) me. Joyful possession of my body is definitely still a work in progress but I am feeling so much lighter about it now.
Oh, Amy. That passage from your journal at the tender age of 19 coupled with this sentence: "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world." I had to pause and sit with what that brought up in me. Wow I feel that.
I was raised by a hard-working single mom who always fought against her size. When I was a young girl, she would bring me with her to Weight Watchers and I would gaze at all the women lined up to step on that scale, stripping down their garments and jewelry in the hopes that the numbers went down instead of up. Moods being dependent on which direction that number went. Having a front row to that had such an impression on me. I battled the scale for decades.
I no longer place my body on the scale but there's always a reel of comparative images in my mind - at this time last year, I was able to wear that outfit and it's too tight now. Or when images pop up as memories on my phone, I instantly compare my size in that photo with today. Every time. I don't need a scale to shame me. I do it fine on my own.
Comparison is the thief of joy, as they say, and even more is robbed when we are comparing ourselves with past versions of ourselves. The "I could do it then why can't I now" litany of inner dialogue.
I am so thankful that you and other gorgeously gifted writers and putting this down on the page. We don't need to hide this from conversations.
I am getting better about it - because I am exposing it to the light. Airing it out. Getting curious about the patterns and asking compassionate questions.
You, my friend, are radiant in those photos!
Thank you for the mention and, once again, we are synchronous in where our pen takes us. xoxoxo
Allison, you pinpointed the very sentence that as I wrote it made tears spring to my eyes. "And I would never forget that my body was capable of letting down the person I trusted most in the world." It was the truth, but it was painful to acknowledge and it felt like a bit of betrayal of my mother to even write it. Yet I know that only by being honest with all of it, including the shadows, can we inch our way to coming into wholeness.
Thank you for all you share here so tenderly and honestly. I had my own stint with Weight Watchers in 2017, with the weekly weigh-ins. I knew somewhere inside me that this was all wrong for me, would only take me further down the path of giving rein to Mean Girl in my head who wanted me in impossibly skinny jeans. And yet I got in line, and let that number mean everything about my worth: if I was "good" that week, or "bad." As most of these efforts do, it helped me lose some weight but of course I gained it all back--until the next diet or program came along. Like Kristi Koeter, now I've given up dieting, settling into the mostly vegan way of eating I enjoy. And getting sober helped eliminate the sugar of the alcohol in my diet.
I do that same thing of comparing myself in past photos, my "thinner" self and my current self, I totally get that litany of inner dialogue. What works for me every time is to talk tenderly to myself as I would to one of my daughters being hard on herself. "That must feel awful, honey. I know you're feeling pain right now, and that's okay. Remember you are beautiful just as you are. I am here. I'm listening. I love you."
Let's stay curious, my friend, keep moving toward the light.
Thank you for the comment on my radiance. It makes me smile; a book I bought last year was called Radiant Rebellion: Reclaim Aging, Practice Joy, and Raise a Little Hell by Karen Walrond who also writes here on Substack. Really excellent read.
https://www.chookooloonks.com/radiant-rebellion
Keep moving towards the light. That’s where we find our radiance, right?
I am in a season where I know stepping into and visiting the shadow is crucial work. Hard and painful yet necessary. And the kind that helps us get closer to the true light of our nature. The juxtaposition of the dark and light is a full life. And I’m here for it all.
I know you are, too. 💕
My mother was and elegant 5'9" and 118 lbs most of her life and I was her chubby, awkward daughter. I remember watching her trim the fat off a cheap cut of meat and then going into my bedroom and drawing with marker on my inner thighs where I would trim my own fat off as I held the knife in my left hand. Thank goodness I chickened out.
It's been a battle my whole life, food has been a comfort, it's meant love as if often does in Jewish or Italian homes. Maybe all homes, I don't know. Currently, it's my go-to for stress. Ironically, I spent almost ten years parading around with nothing on but a gstring, and still considered myself fat. When I look at those photos, I was perfect. I had no idea.
A decade or so back I had a YouTube video series called Middle-Aged Lazy about being middle-aged where I started off showing off my overweight body (in bra & undies) in all its imperfection. Looked like acceptance, but really, I'd hoped it would motivate me to lose weight, or at least not gain any more.
I loved my body after I came out of a two-week stint in the hospital for severe colitis. I'd lost so much weight I was a size 8, which for me, was tiny. My pants had to be tied on. I loved it and took so many photos of myself life that, my collarbones sticking out like basketball hoops.
I got myself on Ozempic and Weight Watchers (not the first time I'd been to WW) two years ago, lost 60 lbs and came within 10 lbs of my goal weight and had to go off Ozempic. I felt better (I'd been up to 220, totally unhealthy) I'd been thrilled with my new body, loved the way my face looked and like your 19 year old self, rewarded myself with clothes I loved wearing and showing myself off in
It's been creeping back and I find myself spending literally hours of time lost online looking for a way to afford Ozempic without insurance. I hate it. Also, the 12 lbs I've gained back have successfully cut me to the quick.
The new plan? At 67, I have become a nude model for an art school, hoping, like I did with the video series, that it will keep me from gaining any more weight, and help me accept my body as it is.
I don't imagine it will. It goes deeper than that.
At 67 and 34 years sober, I'd like to imagine all my issues have been handled. They have not and while I KNOW that thinner is better is a cultural construct, it's still there in my head. I'm still judging myself and the voice in my head is still calling the shots and telling me things like "if no one sees you eat it, it doesn't count."
When does it end?
Thank you for opening this up, I try my best not to think about it, but I also follow Nan Tepper and her brave journey of self exploration.
Jodi, wow. Thank you for this. For all of this. Your honesty and vulnerability and openness. Sharing your stories with us. The one about your mom and trimming the fat off your thighs; she wouldn't have expected you to follow through on that, or? That took my breath away.
I love how you've been brave about being out in the world in your body, with the You Tube series and now as a nude model. That is chutzpah!, says this Jewish woman to another: I bow to you. And even if you acknowledge there is still work to be done, awareness can be everything. We can look away but only for so long. The deeper truth will out.
I think it ends with having love and compassion for ourselves, at least for me. That's the ending and the beginning of something better and different for us women. Keep showing up just as you are. I am so glad you're here--and yes, Nan is so brave and true in her writing.
My bathroom scale broke a few years ago. I gleefully tossed it out and haven't replaced it. But that Thinner Is Worthier conditioning dies hard, so hard. I still detest going to the doctor and stepping on that damn scale, and I still sometimes pine for those brief periods in my life when I was as at the arbitrary weight I thought I should be -- and all of those times were times of great stress. May we all be free of that noise!
I have learned you can say no thank you to getting on the scale at the doctor's office. Life-changing. It was so great the first time I did that and the nurse didn't bat an eye. Absolutely no judgment.
Well, that’s a revelation, Rita, never too late to learn a lesson in autonomy, thank you!
I'm doing that next time!
Jan, glad to know another gleeful tosser of the scale. And yes, same for me: when I was at my thinnest were times of great stress, most recently going through a divorce and then when lack of time for exercise hit with full time caregiving for my mom, up the weight goes again. The see-saw of weight loss-gain that I am trying to make peace with, to constantly remind myself that my worth has nothing to do with an arbitrary number.
Bravo, Amy, for a big, bold, vulnerable post. And thank you for including me among such esteemed names. I'm a Kate Mann fan but had missed her message to throw away the scale. In my experience, the judgment scale is much harder to get rid of.
I love the new entry you've written for yourself, because it hints as much at discovery as it does acceptance. It's a bold new time in your life!
And this passage here tells me you have a strong why for the work you're doing. You're not just healing yourself. You're doing the work for the generations that come after. "I want to be a good role model for my daughters, now 30 and 32. I want them to own their bodies in a way that their mother and grandmother could not and to embrace their healthy appetites—for food, for life, for everything they desire."
Wow, Amy. As someone who has been at war with my body for most of my life, and is now—at age 47–learning and longing to raise that white flag of peace and acceptance, your reflections land right on time for me. They are tender and brave and unflinching.
In recent years, I’ve been both drawn and driven toward somatic healing and embodiment practices, and I am astonished how entrenched all of this is for me. This lifelong dance. I have many notebooks, similar to yours, that I discovered in my “Box of Shame” two summers ago (now renamed my “Box of Pain”). But the harmful inner dialogue goes back far longer, beyond the journals or even memory. However, equally astonishing is how possible and real living amends are between my physical vessel and various inner parts, even after all this time. I’ve been doing some weighty writing lately (terrible pun intended) on my long, dark and secretive history of disordered eating/body shame, and just the fact that I’m willing to wade into old, murky and muddy waters whisper to me that I’m on the right path. If I keep going, I trust the lotus will appear. 🪷
Because with each passing year, I’m increasingly aware that the one true love story we all seek is indeed possible and resides inside of us. We just have to know where to look.
Your words and friendship are a gift, Amy.
What beautiful, vulnerable reflections, Jennifer, thank you. Turning your "box of shame" into a "box of pain" is a far better way to look at it, to gently poke at those wounds and see what they have to teach us. I love how you phrased this: "equally astonishing is how possible and real living amends are between my physical vessel and various inner parts, even after all this time." Yes, yes, yes! I look forward to you sharing in your own writing about your explorations into this topic. Yes, we do have to look into all the dark places to finally get the lightness of being we crave. And this: "the one true love story...resides in each of us." Thank you for being a gift in my life, too.
Loved reading this Amy… I imagine a high percentage of adult women have those diary entries that “yell” at us to lose 10 lbs by (insert unrealistic date). I think of your daughters and the insane amount of women’s body images thrown at them every day. I’m glad you’re there to help them love themselves unconditionally.
Thank you Sally for your kind and thoughtful comment; yes, I see it as a great gift, this opportunity to shift the narrative for my daughters in what I model for them. And they are healthy in that regard, thank God, with no hang-ups about food or weight loss obsession.