I was in middle school when I began to be aware of my weight. In hindsight, looking at photos, I realize now that I should have worn the bikini. By virtue of my youth, I looked great. But at the time, my awareness was limited to how tiny and thin the other, uber popular girls were. The boys hovered around them like bees to clover. They weren’t necessarily prettier. They were just thinner.
I got the message.
I grew up with a slender mother and a little sister who wore a size zero if you hosed her down first and weighed her in her soaking wet clothes. My father used to refer to her as the “little one,” and I was always the “wholesome one.” Yeah, that was what a 15-year-old girl wants to hear. For years I viewed myself as a Swedish butter churner. Big bones and strong arms, yodeling my way through my domestic chores.
I learned early that the scale was all-powerful. It could make or break a day simply by a spin of its dial. Round and round it would go, until it stopped at a number that had the potential to instantly destroy your mood for the next 24 hours, even on your birthday. (In my later years, especially on my birthday). I hated that scale, but I could never walk away from it. It defined me. And I was never good enough.
The men in my family always assured me that I looked “fine” (another word that teenage girls love to hear), but they lacked any credibility on the issue when they would trip all over each other to flirt with every cute, thin girl within their range of sight. They said they liked women to have curves and “something to hold on to.” In reality, they appeared to lust after swizzle sticks, preferably attached to something called “hooters.”
Every magazine, whether geared towards young tweener girls or Baby Boomer women, slaps Photoshopped, impossibly skinny women on the cover and in every ad, setting standards 99% of us can’t achieve ever. Failure is virtually guaranteed. (Although recent confessions from past supermodels include the fact that they eat cotton balls to stay full so they don’t eat actual food. Alrighty then). Many clothing designers don’t make sizes over a 12. Interesting, when the average American female is a size 14. From prom queens to porno queens, the girls who get the attention are usually pretty, but always thin.
So I tried to lose weight. Since it was diametrically opposed to my natural build, it became a lifelong struggle. I tried every diet known to womenkind. Fasting, low-carb, no-carb, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, the Cabbage Soup Diet, Nutrisystem, calorie counting, no sugar, no dinner…and on and on it went. Nothing worked. Mother Nature had spoken. She didn’t care about my self-esteem (or lack thereof) or cultural trends. I was born into a generation that revered thin women, and I was built like a curvy hobbit.
As time went by, I learned to hide this confidence crisis, rarely speaking about my insecurities and failed attempts to reshape my body into a rectangle instead of a pear. My curves made me feel weak and undisciplined. People would say “If you want to be thin, just eat less.” (Like that never occurred to me.) Or the pithy “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” (So not true.) Or, my personal favorite, “You’re a smart girl. If you want it badly enough, you could be thin.” Those people were invariably genetically skinny. And idiots. Most women have “eaten less calories” to the point of starvation at least once during their dieting years and we can tell you it doesn’t work. It just tends to make us feel tired. And extremely bitchy.
For most of my adult life, my weight had a ten-pound fluctuation. At it’s high point, I wanted (needed) to lose twenty pounds. At it’s low point, I felt I could get by with twelve or thirteen. But whatever I weighed, it was too much. My “magic weight,” where I would feel good about myself and life would be wonderful, sailed by during every morning weigh-in at lightening speeds that were just a blur. I thought that dropping twenty or thirty pounds would somehow perfect my life, bringing me an abundance of admiration and success. Like winning the lottery, but better, because I would appear disciplined, in control, beautiful. This hope-try-fail, hope-try-fail became a pattern I lived with for decades.
Then I got sick.
First there was an inexplicable drop of fifteen pounds that wasn’t a result of any dieting effort on my part. My doc ultimately attributed it to stress, so I happily wrote it off as a positive occurrence at the end of a storm.
Then I went through the months-long burst appendix saga (“Wake Up, Here’s Something to Help You Sleep,” and Other Hospital Oddities), and my weight plummeted to 99 pounds. At 60, I finally achieved my goal. I was skinny.
I’ll admit here there were times of glory. Whenever someone would say “You’re too thin, sweetie” or “You need to eat something,” I’d do a secret happy dance in my mind. I’d always think, “Can you repeat that?” (About fourteen times?) But then when I’d look in the mirror, I’d see an old woman. She was rail thin, with a protruding rib cage and elbow skin that hung down like bat wings. The lines on my face looked dry and deep. (Hubs began referring to me as “the Kennewick woman.”) I looked and felt frail. And I was tired. All. The. Time. After a few weeks, I could no longer deny that this skinny thing was not working for me.
Well, crap.
I was no longer wholesome and healthy. Everything familiar about my body was gone, and I missed it. Hubs complained daily about my lack of curves. He frequently commented on my MIA sexy, female curves, and was most emphatic that he wanted them back. He preferred the strong, energetic, old me. Weirdly enough, so did I.
Hubs and I agreed on a weight that we both thought was a natural set point, and I became determined to gain back what I had lost. Not just the weight, but the self-confidence from knowing you look…yep, wait for it…healthy, strong, and, oh my God, wholesome.
My girlfriends tell me they’re jealous of my need to gain weight. They invariably offer to give me some of theirs. I look at them and think “Don’t you know how beautiful you already are? Don’t change a thing.” At my old weight, I was beautiful too. Because I was strong. I was vibrant. I was curvy, and Hubs loved it.
My new goal is to never diet again. I’m going to gain back the pounds I lost and celebrate it with a big cake, with all my curvy, beautiful girlfriends and a case of fabulous red wine. Over Hubs’ famous chicken & dumplings one evening (and the third glass of wine), I struck a bet with him that I would throw out my scale when I hit my goal. He offered double or nothing if I can not pick it out of the dumpster the next morning. Ha. I am woman. We get it done.
Now, let’s talk about those lottery tickets.
Great article and I can totally relate! I am usually on the thin”small” side but pear shaped which makes you look “sturdy.” So, I always watched what I ate. Well, about a year ago, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis and I take meds that make me nauseous..so..loss of some weight. Now, I just had hernia surgery and have lost now 6 pounds..I do look too thin. So, back on the process of gaining some weight back. And, you’re right, you don’t look good too skinny after a certain age..which I am 62. Always a struggle..just happy that I am on the mend..
Thanks, Deb! I find it so interesting that women almost always think they’re overweight, even if by five pounds. We’re never satisfied. Men, however, think they’re hot forever. There’s a lesson in there somewhere! :)
I hope you are curvy and feeling strong again soon. A good friend of mine had a similar experience in that illness caused her to drop too much weight and she was furious when people told her she looked great, so thin!
Thanks, Haralee! I’ve gained 12 pounds back and feeling great. Hubs would like another 15, but ouch! :) Tell you friend she eat and don’t worry about it. It’s one of the few times we “allow” ourselves to eat all those yummy, fattening, high-calorie foods. Have fun!
Stumbled!
Thanks, Patti!! :)
As always, THANK YOU. It’s wonderful to hear you are feeling better and eating and wonderful to hear your journey. Stay healthy!
:)
You’re welcome, Leslie! And thanks for the get well wishes. It’s been a journey, but I’m back! :)
…very well said, Vikki…..I’m glad you’re feeling better!
Thank you, Janell! I am feeling better, up 12 pounds. Yippee!
Good for you, Vikki. At our age, “healthy” is so much more valuable than some arbitrary, other-defined measure of “thin.” What’s more, there are studies showing that it’s important to carry a little extra weight as we age, and your experience demonstrates one of the reasons–can you imagine how emaciated you would have been after your appendix issue if you hadn’t been carrying those “extra” few pounds? Here’s to wholesomeness–and your continued good health!
Thanks, Roxanne! I’m beginning to understand “Youth is wasted on the young.” :) Why does it take us so long to “get it”? My mother used to tell me, “At a certain age, a woman has to choose between her a** and her face.” I totally get it now. :)
or too blonde; another one to add to the list.
Too funny, Karen! And you’re right. We can never be too blonde! :)
I respectfully suggest that next time a friend offers you some of her extra pounds, instead of just thinking to yourself that they look great exactly as they are, say it to them. We need to be as supportive and encouraging and accepting to ourselves (and to our friends) as we can be. Far too many of us say mean things to ourselves all the time that we would never say to someone else, and withhold compliments.
Valleycat 1, I do that all the time! :) I’ve always believed in telling beautiful women that they are beautiful! You’re right, we need to be encouraging and supportive. I’ve complimented women on hairstyles I like, handbags I covet, and shoes I’d love to buy! I’ve never had a negative response. 100% of the time, I get a huge, slightly surprised smile and a “Thank you!” We should all try to do this at least once a day, right? :)
I SO related to this. This past year I have had severe medical problems, which people know of, yet they come up to me, look me over, and say “You look SO great”….yeah, its called the chemo diet.
And yes, like you, I look at pictures of myself when I was so strong, so healthy, and so energetic and now I realize I looked GREAT then, when I was stupidly wasting my time worrying about about that 5 or so pounds…….
Eat the dumplings and the wine and enjoy yourself!!!!
I’m glad you could relate, Lynn! It’s amazing how caught we get in those last five pounds, thinking losing them will change our life for the better. Hmmm… Not seeing it. As for the dumplings and the wine, I’m loving both right now! :)
I was 10 pounds over/under my ideal weight until I had my 2nd kid at 38 and my hormones and metabolism revolted.
I’ve lost the weight several times on WW but counting points until eternity does NOT taste as good as skinny feels. Actually, I don’t even want to be skinny – I just want my waist smaller. Not where it was, but where I would be content with. (as in, narrower than my bustling. I’m basically shaped like a beer can.)
Gaining weight in a healthy way is a struggle too. Best of luck to you!
I’m with you, Jenn. Hormones, metabolism, menopause… They all conspire to make us chunky monkeys, and it’s so hard to stay at our ideal weight. Maybe that’s Mother Nature’s way of getting up to change our ideal weight! :)
As I’ve gotten older, I just decided I’d ignore the scale and go by how I feel and how my clothes fit. Although it’s not always what I’d like, I find that the idea of fitting into a number on the scale is much less appealing to me now.
Good luck with your lottery tickets!
Thanks, Ann! I’m trying very hard to give up my scale. It’s never made me happier. Not once in 60 years. If it was a husband, I would’ve kicked it to the curb 40 years ago! Oh well, there’s always tomorrow! :)
That old scripting is often hard to break. I had two besties. They were both thinner and more popular than me. I thought they were smarter, too. We did everything together. I always felt less than. One gal passed away from breast cancer. She had several unhappy marriages. The other gal is a retired nurse and we are still friends. Recently she came in to visit and we were chatting about the old days. I told her that I thought I was overweight and not as smart as she and Julie. She was flabbergasted. She couldn’t believe it. We pulled out some old pictures and she was right………..I was not overweight. I wasn’t a skinny minnie, I was average weight. Women are so hard on themselves. In September I will be 64 and I finally look at myself and feel good! I have let go of that negative chatter in my head that I used to listen to. I know you have gone through quite an ordeal with your health. Thank goodness you are on the other side of it. Now is the time to get rid of that old mantra and just love the you that you are today.
Thank you for that, Ellen. It was beautifully said. We are absolutely too hard on ourselves, and I’m glad to be 60 and to finally figure out we need to let up and be kinder…to each other and to ourselves. Thanks for your thoughts!
I’ve gotten to the point now that I look back at my youth and greive the loss of the thinness I never knew I had – I almost said beauty instead of thinness, but I don’t want to believe that you must be thin to be beautiful. I’ve struggled since my early twenties to just lose those last 20…30…40…100 lbs (thanks menopause). I am a consumate yo-yoer and somethings got to give. I want to be healthy again. I ran a Spartan race just 4 years ago and now I can barely climb the stairs. I love you perspective and am thankful that you’ve shared your story. Let’s all get healthy and love ourselves together!
Pam, I love your response! You’re right, we need to determine our healthy weight (not our “skinny” weight), find a way to get there, and then fug-get-about-it and enjoy our lives. We need each other to do that, so let’s be kind to ourselves and other women. :)
Vikki, I loved your article. A few months ago I was very ill and had pneumonia. I lost 7 lbs in a little more than a week, but once I felt better it was like the desire to eat magnified itself and I gained it back in the blink of an eye. The truth is we always want more of some things ( money, time, travel) and less of others (weight, wrinkles, aches and pains). I passed a print I framed today which said, “happiness is wanting what you have not having what you want.” Guess I have to be happy being with extra “baggage” as it could be worse
Kathy, love the quote! And it’s true. We just need to STOP wanting to be skinny and unhealthy, just to feel good about ourselves. How silly is that? A little “extra baggage” can’t be the determining factor in our self-esteem or our attractiveness. Let’s rock the “baggage,” and call it gorgeous! :)
Great article Vikki!! This is definitely a universal theme especially with our generation. I too am addicted to my scale and fight this battle in my mind every day. But your story about your health and going to 99 pounds has really really had an impact on me. I am so happy you’re doing well I wish you the best in your recovery. And your husband, and my husband are right we are beautiful just the way we are!
Thanks, Cathy! The 99-pound weigh-in was a bit scary. And I looked like crap, quite frankly. Back up 13 pounds, and climbing. I feel better than I’ve felt in months. And you’re right, our husbands think we rock, so that’s enough for me! :)
Such a great article for the truth and wisdom you share. Why are we never happy with what we weigh. All the best for the gaining of lost weight :)
Thanks, Debbie! I don’t know why we’re always depressed about our weight. It seems like there are many, more important things to consume our time and energy, but that damn scale just won’t cooperate! :)
Thanks for this post. It obviously struck a chord with a lot of us. I’ve been trying to lose weight for as long as I can remember. Now I wish I had enjoyed the beautiful body of my 20s more. What I absolutely do not want to do 20 years from now is wish I had enjoyed my healthy body more when I was in my 50s! My body does amazing things. I am making a conscious effort to take care of it and appreciate it now.
I will add that I lost 25 pounds on Weight Watchers and have kept 20 of it off for 10 years now, which puts me at a healthy weight that I can maintain without depriving myself. I still find myself slipping into that space where I mourn the five pounds I put back on. Silly scale.