Why should the 91 percent feel bad about their bodies because of the portrayal of the 5 percent as "ideal"? This is exactly what the creators of the Lammily doll, otherwise known as the "normal Barbie," wanted to correct.
I'm sorry for all the years that I (mistakenly) thought you weren't enough. I'm sorry for the torture I put you through, stuffing you into Victoria Secret padded bras and hoping you came together to give me the perfect cleavage for prom. It wasn't you, it was me.
Today, these memories act as preventative medicine for my mind as I am constantly bombarded with superficial images of anorexic models portrayed as sex symbols. When I see the skin and bones of models, I no longer feel the envy, because I actively focus on remembering the pain I felt to achieve this.
It's not enough to only stop complaining about your own body; we must also compliment ourselves and show pride in our bodies. What you say becomes the script running through your child's mind.
Can you begin to take a step out of your critical, harsh mind to view yourself as your friends, family, and significant others see you? Can you imagine a world where each of us let go of the self-inflicted criticism, recognized our worth, and saw ourselves as those who love us see us?
When you finally think that you deserve to say you have it all figured out, that your breasts and your body belong to you, they don't anymore. Perhaps that is where the story begins. When your love affair with your body becomes foreign and familiar, all at once.
It took a year, and more hard work than I thought I was capable of, but I lost 170 pounds. The 12 years leading up to this weight loss were rough to say the least. There were five things I hated about being overweight.
Because breasts are normal. Because using breasts for breastfeeding is normal. Because stretch marks are normal. Because body fat is normal. Because lines are normal.
The fact that I'm fat -- yes, I said "fat," because it's an accurate adjective and not an insult -- does nothing to add or detract from my value as a person and as a woman of great worth.
I think the answer is, love yourself because you are you. Be confident in yourself because you are you. Don't let the size you are dictate how you feel about yourself or how much confidence you have.
I do want to keep exercise in my day and be the healthiest, highest functioning version of myself that I can be. But when I have an extra hour or two at the end of the day, I don't want to spend it making sure my body looks perfect. I want to do something that will add value to me as person on a deeper level, beneath the surface of rock-hard abs.
Last month, I turned 58. As in 'years old.' Fifty. Eight. I don't care who you are, 58 is no longer "young." Body parts have shifted downwards. Skin has lost its memory yarn. Thighs ripple when we're standing still. Once-defined triceps now flap like sheets on a clothesline. Weight has moved into our hips and bellies with the tenacity of squatters on the back 40 of the Ponderosa.
If food is your largest cause of anxiety, having an entire day focused entirely upon that subject feels like entering a bad dream.
You see, I felt like bowing down to that belly. I felt like celebrating it and thanking it for what it had carried -- for whom it had carried.
You don't need to be thinner to enjoy a sunset, to bask in the warmth of summer nights, to have a good laugh with your best friend, and to take a peaceful walk in nature. See if you can tap into your happiness now. Not 20 pounds from now.
The world has a habit of judging people on their looks. I wish it were different, but it's not. You'll quickly learn that everyone has an opinion on what's pretty and it's virtually unavoidable to not feel the weight of those expectations.