Sitting there, feeling my emotions spinning crazily out of my control, I was struck by the lightning bolt notion that I might have an eating disorder. The idea that I might not know my own mind well enough to detect denial formed a dark, scary rabbit hole, and my emotions were sucked into even more anxiety.
Today, altered images of girls and women (presumably men, too) depicting bodies shapes that are unattainable and unhealthy are used to sell everything from bikinis to lipgloss.
The body image, air-brushing, magazine-coverage stuff is inevitably hypocritical, boring and small. It's on a loop and it's going nowhere. Reading the mainstream "women's press," you'd think the biggest problem facing us today was the fact that "real" women appear airbrushed in glossies.
Who gave Kang the right to set that standard for all mothers? Why does Kang's body type have to be the ideal? And why can't we have our own priorities?
The media has created a standard for beauty that is virtually impossible to achieve, yet people, especially women, consistently strive for perfection, hurting themselves in the process.
I'm not actually upset with her at all; I'm finding that I just keep questioning myself, my motives, and trying to figure out what she meant exactly.
I learned early on that sexiness is next to godliness. Eastern European women have turned preening into something of an Olympic sport, though the women in my family are, by and large, low-maintenance. Still, the emphasis on beauty was profound.
As a mother, a moment of low self-esteem was a luxury I felt like I was no longer entitled to.
He wasn't trying to make you feel bad about yourself -- he thought he was doing something nice for you. And he wasn't trying to make you look the way he wishes you looked -- he was trying to make you look the way he thinks you wishes you looked.
I do not love my body. I cruelly blame it for my recurring unhappiness. I have made it the culprit for my failures in love. I spent years starving it and then stuffing it and talking horribly to it. I have not been kind to this flesh, and changing my destructive attitude is the work of a lifetime.
There is real benefit to be gleaned from dressing your transitional body well. Looking good now can get you hooked on looking good: It can establish a habitual desire to feel awesome when confronted with a mirror.
Every person has flaws. Nobody is perfect and, quite frankly, who wants to be? Flaws and imperfections make you special, they make you unique and interesting. Flaws shape your character. You don't need to hide them, you need to embrace them.
When I was in high school, my dear friend Emily would address me by saying, "Hey, beautiful!" It always unnerved me back then, though I would never have been able to articulate why.
When someone takes my photo and I ask them to contort in all sorts of uncomfortable positions to get the right shot, or when I'm raising my arm several feet above my head to get a selfie that makes me look thinner, what am I telling myself? What am I telling my daughters?
To say a woman is ugly based on her appearance means you haven't really looked at her. It's ignorance. Beauty is more than meets the eye. It goes deeper than that. There are layers of beauty. Beauty is body, mind, heart, and soul.
I thought that being the shortest girl in the room would define me the same way that being the girl always in heels used to. Only being the girl in heels was my choice.