An inspired list
Editor’s note: Longtime reader Gena VanOsselaer read this Huffington Post article: 7 Things to Look at When You Feel Bad About Your Body and was inspired to write the following, which she graciously passed along. We’re supportive and proud!
Musings on Body Image
At four, after surgery to rebuild my chest, my dad asked me to pull up my shirt so one of his friends could see the scar that ran all the way across it, under each arm and around to my back. I did it, but I still remember my face flushing hot with embarrassment.
In elementary school I developed a rash on my arms. The older kids in the neighborhood made up a game about it where they would take turns running up to me, reach out and touch my arm, and run away screaming in horror.
Growing up with a round face, and the same kids would taunt me, singing “Baby face, you’ve got the cutest little baby face…” pinch my cheeks, then fall on the ground laughing.
At 10, at a slumber party where I was the youngest and so flattered to be invited, someone suggested that at the count of three, we would all take off our pajamas and get naked under our sleeping bags. One, two ….Three! All fully clothed but me, they jumped on me and tore off my sleeping bag, exposing my trembling, naked body.
At 13, I obsessed that my breasts were too small. I changed into my gym clothes in the stall furthest away from everyone else so that no one would see.
At 15, just prior to surgery for scoliosis, I was taken to a hospital room, told to strip down to my underwear, and follow instructions to pose for photographs. I had to bend over and hold my ankles in front of the camera, and contort my body into incredibly awkward and revealing positions so that the deformities of scoliosis could be illustrated for a medical journal.
At 16, I wore a heavy body cast to school, walking down the halls convinced everyone was staring at me. The players on my boyfriend’s basketball team made fun of him for being seen with me.
At 17, going to the lake with friends, I wouldn’t let my hair get wet, because straight hair was “in”, and I knew my hair would frizz as it dried.
As a freshman in college, a visiting gym instructor calculated our body fat. At 5’5”, I weighed 107 pounds. She told me that if I ever gained weight, I would have fat arms. Even today, I struggle with wearing anything sleeveless.
As a sophomore in college, I had my first visit to the gynecologist. Dressed only in a gown open down the back, he led me over to the window so he could see my scars better, commenting “Boy, they really filleted you up, didn’t they?”
The real tragedy: At 55 years old, I remember those incidents as clearly as if they were yesterday.
What if … I had been able to recognize that most of the criticisms came from people I barely knew?
What if … I had the self-confidence to realize that their comments and actions didn’t reflect who I was, and revealed more about them than me?
What if … I hadn’t let those who didn’t know me define who I was, based on their own ego-created identities?
How would my life have been different?