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Letter to a Friend

“Well yeah, that must be easy for YOU to teach women to love their bodies.  It would be easy for ME also if my body looked like yours.”

It felt like a stab in the back.  I felt my face get hot.  I felt stumped for words.  I didn’t say a thing.

I knew this acquaintance of mine didn’t mean to be rude.  I was caught off guard by her comment, but when I thought about it later, it didn’t surprise me.  I used to believe the same thing.  I used to feel that if I could just CHANGE my body, THEN I could love it.  It’s taken a lot of soul work to get to where I am today, to a place where I love my body deeply, fully, unconditionally.

I was unprepared to respond when we were together, but my dear new friend, can I have a second chance?  I’m ready to respond now.  And I see you.

I see that from where you are standing, from your point of view, it feels like the very best thing to be skinny.  From the place you’re coming from, you believe that all your problems would be solved if you could just lose some weight or change that flawed part of you.  You’d finally have acceptance.  Approval.  Love.

I know.

I know because I was there too.  When I was a small teenager, I too bought into the game, made a decision to be a fierce contender, and focused most of my time, thoughts and energy on winning.

I’d skip meals regularly.  Sometimes for days on end.  My thoughts every day were consumed by what my body looked like, what food I would eat, and what exercise I would engage in.

Years later, when I had my first baby, nursing him caused me to lose weight quickly and I suddenly found myself in the winner's circle.  People commented often on how I looked “so good”… and I became hooked.  For the next decade, I spent a lot of time and energy making sure my body looked a certain way.  

BUT, my friend, I never won.

The thin body game is a terrible game to play because no one ever wins.  I know.  I reached the highest heights, and guess what happened?  I STILL spent every day consumed by thoughts of what my body looked like, what food I would (or wouldn’t) eat, and what exercise I would engage in.  It DID NOT MATTER how thin or fit I became; I was never content.  I could not rest.

When I turned 30, I realized that playing “the game” was not something I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing.  So, I set a goal for myself: “Make peace with my body”.

I had no idea how difficult it would be and how much work it would take.  I could not do it on my own.  I hired a therapist, took myself through the 12-step addiction recovery program and for the next four years, I worked HARD.  Old beliefs are not easily swayed.

Four years of deep soul work and lots of tears later, I learned that love for our bodies doesn’t come as a result of what our bodies look like.  Love for our bodies is an inside job.  

So, I say with all the kindness, compassion and empathy in the world:  

My dear new friend: You’ve got it all wrong.

Honoring the form and creation of my body is not about being skinny.  It’s about seeing, for the very first time, that my body is and has always been here to help me.  It’s about seeing that my body’s sole objective is health and that it is working daily to restore me to wholeness.  Loving my body is knowing that this body allows me to taste all of life’s richest emotions and experience all of its wildest experiences.  Honoring my body is about knowing, deeply knowing that my body is not an ornament.  My body is my very best friend.  It is a vessel.  It’s a vehicle for all of my JOY.

Dear friend.  I see you.  I know you.  And more than anything, I hope that you too choose to do your own work.  Because seeing your own beauty (for the first time!) will bring you joy beyond your wildest dreams.  It will change everything.

I wish you could stand inside my shoes for a day.  I’d love to gift you a glimpse of how good it is.  To see, really see your own self- it’s a sacred gift.  You know I’d do it for you if I could.  But instead, I’ll trust in you because I know you’ve got what it takes.  You CAN love your body- exactly as it is.  You do your work, and I’ll stand right next to you, holding your hand- however long it takes.

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