Posts Tagged ‘body image’

    This is depressing

    Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

    Today, I noticed another one of my shoes had a broken heel, making this the second pair in three months that must be fixed or thrown out.

    “Great, now I have to go shoe shopping,” I complained.

    Wait, what did I just say?

    But it’s true. I couldn’t care less about shopping for new duds. I’m not the least bit intrigued about this season’s fall boots or want to stock up on fuzzy sweaters and wool skirts. I stopped caring about fashion about a year ago. That’s why I rotate through the same three work pants every week. On weekends, I stand inside my closet and stare; yet nothing inspires me, so I pull out something drab yet comfortable and conclude, “I don’t care. Who really cares? I don’t care!!”

    This is depressing me.

    I want my vanity back. I want back the part of me that didn’t mind the fuss of makeup and dress-up. Bring back the girl who invested in herself — With time and money and confidence.

    The metaphor

    Wednesday, October 21st, 2009

    There used to be a time when my eyes would light up at the sight of 4-inch-high polka-dot stilettos in size 7. Or I’d see a heather gray pencil skirt that hugged me just right. Back then, a gold-and-silver beaded clutch within a pile of thrift-store rubbish was a treasure find, and my pursuit for the most glamorous shade of red lipstick was a worthy challenge.

    (You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?)

    I still have a majority of those items, but now I look at them with disdain because they remind me of diminishing youth — one that I don’t forsee returning.

    I glance at the dusty stilettos quizzically, not daring to put them on and risk tripping and breaking my pelvis. The pencil skirt — well, that’s gone, donated in a clothing swap with friends who evidently have the discipline to keep their cute waistlines. God only knows why I’ve kept the red lipstick, which looked pretentious even in my early twenties.

    But the clutch — I will never let that go. Because it’s still exquisite, despite its beads somewhat dull after years of handling.

    Weighty obsession

    Saturday, December 13th, 2008

    Google Analytics is quite the marketing tool. From the time it was set up for this Web site, I’ve been able to track the number of daily visitors, where my visitors reside and which posts/pages were most popular ā€” among other data.

    But one insight I’ve gained is too disturbing.

    It comes by way of the keyword section of Google Analytics, which tells me why some people visited my blog.

    To say that we are a country obsessed with a woman’s weight is the biggest understatement of all time. Keyword searches such as “measurements average woman,” “size 2 women’s measurements” and “36 24 36” have brought at least one visitor to my site every day since I wrote this blog.

    Is it a wonder why young American women, including myself for the past many months, consistently grapple with their weight? We’re so busy seeking the answer for the perfect body that we’ve yet to realize the heaviness of our self-inflicted misery.

    The sun will come out…

    Sunday, September 14th, 2008

    I don’t know whether it was the fitful night of sleep, the overcast skies, the jitteriness from a too-large coffee, the empty stomach, the five-hour-long missing-cat episode or the donation of my cute clothes to a skinny friend, but today climaxed in big, sloppy tears.

    I’m too sexy for your body

    Wednesday, August 20th, 2008

    Yesterday I went to my tailor to be measured for my wedding sari/dress.

    Let’s just say that I’m far from the Western ideal of 36-24-36, a shape that has been referenced in pop culture by the Commodores, Sir Mix-A-Lot and the Violent Femmes.

    Come to think of it, I don’t recall a time, even during my fittest teenage years, where that “ideal” string of numbers described my physique — and I was cute at 19!

    Andrea Lynn, who was an editor for the News Bureau at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, says 36-24-36 is a disproportionate figure, akin to Barbie. The measurement casts aside the fact that the average woman is shaped more like a pear, not an hourglass. Plus, 36-24-36 would mean that a woman has a size 10 bust, a size 2 waist and size 4 hips.

    Which begs the question: Is that “ideal” attainable without surgical enhancements?

    So, despite the big-bigger-biggest measurements for my sari, I’m gonna strut it on my wedding day.

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