my relationship with Her: lessons from my body

I have little snapshots that flash through my mind…

Writing notes to a beloved friend asking her if I’m “fat” on our way to a youth camp, and her incredibly gracious response of “you just haven’t outgrown your baby fat.” (Even though I thought, “Who still has baby fat in the 8^th grade?”)
Sunday, February 1, 2004, when I said no to bagels at coffee fellowship hour at church as I was starting the South Beach diet.
Having the boy I was in love with in high school pick me up as part of the end of our show choir 50s music medley and flirting with an eating disorder to lose weight faster so I wouldn’t feel him straining to pick me up.
Spending 2 hours at the gym Freshman year of college as many days as possible.
Dieting before college graduation.
Gaining 20 lbs during my year in Tulsa.
Trying a new diet going into my second year of seminary.
Gaining 15 lbs between graduating from seminary and starting in Williamsburg.
Dropping weight.
Gaining weight.
Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Body image.

Ya feel me?

My relationship with my body has always been deeply complex. For so long, I equated my lack of a dating life and relationships to my weight. I would tell myself at the gym in college, “You just need to work out harder. If you lose 15-20 lbs., then someone will come into your life and you’ll be beautiful.” I would tear out pictures from magazines of women I thought were beautiful and tape them to my mirrors as daily motivation.

Food justification became real. “I’ve had a hard day, so I need comfort food.” “I’ve survived ordination exams—let’s celebrate!” “I’m getting a hamburger because…” “Do you want to split this? I’m not feeling too hungry.” “I know I shouldn’t, but I’m craving ice cream right now!”

For so many women, we seek to justify any choice or decision we make regarding our body, from the food we eat, to the workouts, to motivation and lack thereof, to the clothes we wear, and more. We celebrate our bodies when we’ve run them ragged, and we berate our bodies when we’ve ill-treated them. Because really, when was the last time you went out to eat with friends, and no one justified what they ordered and why they ordered it? The intricate relationship between food, exercise, and our bodies has been deeply intertwined and connected, and more often than not, never in ways that promote bodily love or a celebration of our beauty.

I hit my breaking point 3 years ago when I first moved to Williamsburg. I had experienced another round of weight gain and couldn’t fit into most of my clothes and just knew that in order to fit into them, I’d have to start dieting again. This mere thought was enough to send me into a spiral of tears and calling my parents. Because I was TIRED. I was tired of the dieting, of clothes not fitting right, of having to make the “right” eating choices, of exercising for the sake of losing weight, of seeing how thin I was in high school and college memories that popped up on social media, of feeing like it was my fault that I didn’t have a mate because of my body and her size.

So, after a therapeutic talk with my Dad, I decided to do something different: to craft a new lifestyle for myself in Williamsburg. I decided to focus less on getting back down to that ideal weight from my high school days, but instead look at my health wholistically—that I am a whole woman, and my mental, emotional, and spiritual are just as important as my physical health. These four areas of my life are intrinsically linked together, one unable to function without the others in balance.

If you think this is the magnificent, formulaic moment of, “So I did it and now my life is perfect and beautiful and I’m happy as I could ever be!” you’d be so wrong. The yo-yo weight loss and gain has been real. The spiritual practices have come and gone. The mental health battles and process has been long and painful. This idea of wholistic living, of trying to keep these four areas of life in balance is crazy hard, but the lessons I’ve learned and am continuing to learn make it worth it, so here are just a few of them.

First, you only have one body, so you need to take care of it (I refer to mine as “her” because by personifying my body, I claim her as mine, and I’m more attentive to her needs like I would be a beloved friend). My body and I are stuck with each other, so that means I’m the one charged with taking care of her, as well as appreciating her because she has done so much for me. She has carried me through insane health issues over this past year and helped me to keep moving and going even in the face of debilitating exhaustion. She’s forced me to listen to her—to listen when she’s angry with foods that are hard for her to process, to listen when she’s telling me, “I know we could run a year ago, but I can’t do this for you now, so let’s slow down.” Our bodies are constantly talking to us, but are we ever taking a moment to listen to them? To really practice checking in with ourselves to see what our bodies might be telling us?

Second, I have yet to meet a woman who genuinely loves and adores everything about her body and wouldn’t change a single thing about herself (but I mean, if you exist, please, make yourself known and share your secret with the world because I’ve yet to meet you!). So instead of leading a life that focuses solely on all the ways in which I’m dissatisfied with my body, I’m trying to take what I’m hearing from her and transform what she’s telling me into responses of love and grace. A recent revelation I’ve had is that I need to exercise not for the sake of losing weight, but because I’m a more balanced and healthier spiritually, mentally, and emotionally when I’m regularly working out. By putting in the time and energy each morning to show her some love and listening—because sometimes she wants to walk outside and not go to a gym—I have a newfound confidence and love for my body. She’s not perfect, but she’s mine, and I’m so proud of her, so we go for walks, take bubble baths, indulge in face masks, go to bed early, limit screen time, and enjoy a glass of red wine together.

Third, you can’t live this complexly hard and beautiful relationship with your body alone. Our culture screams comparison games, and social media loves to lead the charge. We compare ourselves to others and think, “If only I did X, then I would be Y.” It sucks. There’s nothing that directs us down a spiral of self-criticism faster than the shame that crashes over us as we play comparison games. And this has to stop, beloved. Because if we want real, authentic community and to lead a wholistic/holistic life, we must re-write the rules. Shame and comparison games are tools for breaking down, and not ones for building up. So why continue to indulge in them? Why not start trying to re-train and re-program our modes of thinking with the reminders that we are not beloved by God or others because of how we look, but because of who we are? I have never been beloved by family and friends because of my body, even though my voices of self-criticism can tell me, “Look at you—you’ve gained 15 lbs and everyone is going to notice and judge you for it!” The struggle is that my feelings will always try to convince me that “because I feel it, this must be true.” But it’s not, and that is a crazy hard thought to re-write as false and not truth. This past week I was going to the beach with friends, and I felt like crap, so assumed that wearing my two-piece swimsuit would mean I looked like an array of horrifically self-critical words that just don’t need to be shared. Instead, I reached out to my people, and said, “OK, I’m caught in a spiral and I need y’all to tell me that these feelings are not indicative of the truth.” To which my people were quick in affirming me and saying, “yes! You are beautiful, and you have no reason to be ashamed of your body! Show her off and be proud!” I couldn’t have worn that two-piece without them (and this is the first two piece I’ve ever owned as I had once again thought for ages that only people who are teeny-tiny can wear two pieces).

I don’t know what your relationship with your body looks like. I would imagine that you have your own thoughts and opinions about your body, but I want to ask you: are you listening to your body? Are you cherishing this one body? Are you recognizing the lies that can so often spring up, and instead searching for the truth to claim as your own and be fiercely proud of your body? Only you can speak for your body, can own your body, can show it love. I want to help—I want you to know that your body is precious, has done hard things, and will keep doing hard things for you. Appreciate your body. Cherish your body. Listen to your body. Challenge the shame, comparisons, and objectification of your body, and instead, build up communities and generations that see bodies as beautifully imperfect, and wholly ours.

For more on body image check out "A"'s blog: Looking at How We Look at Bodies as well.