BBI(Bad Body Image) it's here and it's entrenched.

BBI it’s back and it’s entrenched!

*BBI= Bad Body Image.

BBI is back in my brain and soul like an insidious super virus invades a big bank's  network and server.

I was having a lovely walk with my dear friend,S, yesterday. She asked in the kindest, most compassionate terms my thoughts on my clothes and style choices. She felt like I could put together more flattering outfits. The problem is, nowadays, I rarely think about ‘putting together an outfit.’ These days I put clothes on to hide my nakedness. And ‘these days’ have stretched from a few month after the baby was born to…today.

And, today my son is five years old.

Huh. Food for thought.

In the process of dressing ‘these days,’ my main concern is pull focus from my mid-section! S, my friend, gently made the cogent, practical point that sometimes trying to hide the tummy actually draws attention to it.  I took a deep breath and realized this is a valid observation.

S made the great suggestion to find my own style icons and think about several simple pieces(a tailored blouse, a perfectly fitting black dress.) that will help me feel beautiful and strong.

Brilliant idea! And so good talk-out loud- about stepping into my own beauty, my own self.

Another important realization: it feels so exhausting to make myself feel beautiful.I literally said that to my friend, S.

I said: “I know how to feel beautiful. I do. But it is just so exhausting.” She looked at me with her wise kind eyes and said nothing. What she was thinking, and what I know is: if feeling good about yourself is tiring, there is a problem.

The good news: identifying the problem is the first step toward solving it. So…yay.

S did suggest, very compassionately, that I suffer from a form of Dysmorphic, disillusioned, dystopic physical perception(can’t remember the clinical term) in short, BBI.

Yes. I agree! I am swimming, nay, drowning in Bad Body Image.

After my walk with S and while I in the thick of errands/teaching/ playdates/ dinner/ homework I had a flash or more like a very sharp pangs. The pangs were clear and acute. They said:

I HATE my body.

I hate and despise it. While I’m very, very grateful for the job my body did producing my son, K, and keeping me healthy all this time, I abhor the way it looks. To me-emphasis on me, remember the Body Dismorphic Disorder that I have-to me, I look hideous and should be hidden from public view. I want the cute, slim body back that I had when I was performing, before I had the baby.

And those thoughts are so so so so

Uncool! Abhorant and unattractive!

It’s blasphemy to all parts of my feminist, nay, my humanist being and spirit! It’s disgusting to think that! When there are woman and men that are ailing that would love more than anything to have a body like mine.

It is truly disgusting not to thank God/Goddess/all that is good every day for having a healthy female body. Not only healthy, it’s  more like a super hero body. Listen to this: at 40 years old, after five days of labor, I gave birth to a 9lb 9oz boy (healthy, gorgeous). This same body that got really, really sick when my baby was 3 weeks old and yet my milk supply never stopped. It’s actually a miracle when I think about it.

So I hate myself for hating my body. Talk about a demon chasing it’s tail!

But still-keeping it real- still when I see a woman who is a size two, even a size four, and she has a one-year-old toddling around, I’m so jealous, I call her bad words in my head.

Only for a nanosecond.

But then, for all you size twos reading this, the feminist me calls me out and gives me a tongue-lashing. It’s so busy in my head.

  

So I could get through the day in the world,I tucked this self-loathing ogre full of vitriol away until after K was asleep. I could only face this craziness and after I watched the hilarious episode of Modern Family for the second time ( the Modern Family episode is the Juice Fast episode. I think it was called, “ Up on a wire.” You must watch it.)

I have found such a wealth of ruminations that I am only half way through the arc of my BBI story!

 So this posting is a two parter. Tune in tomorrow for part two: “Does my son’s bad behavior make me look fat?”

To be continued…