The F Word

I’ve had a couple of different topics on my mind that I have been wanting to blog about since my last post back in April- after all, it has been over a month since it was my turn to blog. All of the topics I had been mulling over are still topics that I will probably eventually blog about. However, after Jill’s most recent posting, I scratched everything I had been drafting and decided I needed to write this post instead.

After Jill’s most recent post on Elliot Rodgers (see preceding post), the Dissident Daughters had a group text going to discuss our thoughts regarding it. Of course, we all thought she made some excellent points but Jill’s concern was that she “came on too strong.” We all said something to assure her that she shouldn’t have to worry about what she chooses to write about and how she expresses herself. I offered my own words of assurance but then I also said that “I worried too...I worried about topics that I may want to write about. And I didn’t know what to think about that.”

So here I am. Thinking aloud about “that”- about which I am afraid to write about and why I am afraid to write about it. Many of the topics that I want to write (or rant) about are topics that specifically affect and concern women and women’s rights. I also want to share anecdotal stories of how I have experienced sexism, often in the workplace. However, I am fearful to REALLY express things in this blog in the same manner that I might express them if I were just talking to my sisters so I have been asking myself “why” this entire week and have finally come up with an answer, albeit an answer that only poses more questions for me. The answer is this: I am afraid that I will be labeled a feminist. Is this also what Jill was afraid of when she worried that she “came on too strong” regarding her opinion on Elliot Rodgers? And why am I afraid of being labeled with that word? Why is that word so poisonous? Of course, I don’t really know the answer. My younger sister Anne would probably have a better answer than me, but my fear of being labeled a feminist was so strong that I felt that I needed to direct readers’ attention to this article, which I absolutely love:

http://library.crossfit.com/free/pdf/CFJ_2014_03_Feminism_Darsh2.pdf.

The author, Lisbeth Darsh, basically talks about the exact same thing I am questioning: why are people so afraid of using the word “feminist?” She says that some argue that it is too “harsh” of a word while others believe it was tainted in 2004 when Rush Limbaugh started using the word “feminazi.” Additionally, some people think that equality between the sexes has largely been achieved so there is no longer a need for such a word. However, if equality has been achieved between the sexes, Darsh argues, why do we still live in a rape culture, why do we still have political discussions about the gender pay gap, and why does gendercide still occur? Darsh submits that while many females do not want to be labeled with the word “feminist”, the need for the word itself or a replacement word still exists.

In fact, the need, in my opinion, is becoming more and more crucial by the day. Darsh wrote that article well before the Elliot Rodgers killing spree, well before the latest case in Boston this past Sunday evening where a woman in the Boston area was raped by a three time convicted rapist http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2014/06/01/level-sex-offender-breaks-into-arlington-house-rapes-woman/hiJHhSsdzlMfOyGdxCZsoK/story.html, well before the news story on Iraq debating the marriage of men to 9 year old girls was released http://www.npr.org/blogs/parallels/2014/05/13/312160466/iraq-debates-law-that-would-allow-men-to-marry-9-year-old-girls and well before the gang rape and hangings of two teenage girls in Delhi http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/jun/03/india-gang-rape-family-threats. If I am afraid to be labeled a feminist, what other word should I be using? As Darsh points out in her article, if you go to thesaurus.com and search for a synonym, your search will be returned with “no results found.” Is it just semantics? Should I stop worrying so much about one little word? Should I just shut up? Or should I just stop being afraid and start labeling myself as such?

Not All Men...But Many...Too Many

"Well girls keep that in mind the next time you friend zone somebody. "

"I hope you women see this as a lesson stop being so stuck up and give that one kid some pussy who never gets shit and you might save a life smdfh this nigga could've saved his life if only one of you dumb cunts could of [sic] given him some sweetness."

"See girls this is what you get for treating nice guys like shit."

These are actual comments that were made, presumably by men although I cannot validate that, following Elliot Rodgers' homicidal rampage which was motivated, in good part, by his hatred of women.   I haven't read the entire manifesto Rodgers authored nor have I watched the entirety of his video. However, what I have been able to glean is that Rodgers was pissed off because he was still a virgin at age 22 and didn't perceive women to be interested in him. He blamed women for his "miserable lonliness" and hated men for having women.  Rodgers' rantings sparked much controversy and comment.  The #YesAllWomen movement was born wherein anectdotal evidence suggests that yes, all women deal with some form of misogyny on a daily basis.  A corresponding movement "Not All Men," was also born to show not all men held beliefs similar to Rodgers. I agree that not all men hold such beliefs but I will argue that  many do....too many. This is evidenced by the fact that there was also support and even pity for "poor little" Elliot Rodgers--as if being a 22 year old virgin was a sentence worse than death. I have highlighted a few comments from supporters above. 

Here's the thing that keeps pissing me off and it's controversial so you are forewarned. No one, man or woman, is entitled to sex. I'm sick of people thinking they can't possibly be happy if they aren't getting screwed 3 times a week or haven't had 10 sex partners by the time they are 20. If I were a man, I would be downright angry that my manhood was defined by how many people I put my penis into. It reduces a man to his cock's activity and quite frankly, it's a really poor judge of a man. Likewise though,  I'm sick of women being valued primarily for their fuckability.  If men weren't defined by sexual prowess, maybe women could be valued for other qualities. I guess I'm sick of the power of the pussy. Really, I don't think sex is a bad thing...I'm not some frigid bitch. However, whenever we let one thing define us, we do so at our own peril.

So for the supporters of Rodgers twisted beliefs, here is what I have to say: First, define your manhood differently. You have all the power in the world so don't expect me to feel sorry for you when you can't live up to the lethario image you have mandated for your gender.  Second, quit devaluing friendships and other forms of non sexual relationships. Third, don't tell women to fuck a lunatic because it might prevent a crime. I don't care how many times a lunatic gets laid. He will still be a lunatic. Trust me, I know because I have screwed some lunatics and might have even been one myself at one time and sex does not cure craziness. Rodgers was either mentally ill which sex won't cure or he was a misogonist. You can't have it both ways. Fourth, to the person who wrote the comment containing "COULD OF." It is "could have" or "could've" NOT "could of." Perhaps you should focus on improving yourself instead of looking for a scapegoat in all the women who didn't show an interest in your ignorance. Fifth, nice guys may get treated like shit. I won't dispute that because it cannot be studied unless you can empirically define a person as a "nice guy," and measure how he gets treated. However, I have to put the focus back on (not all, but many) men for creating the conditions that produce women who think they deserve to be treated like crap. When you grow up with the messages of "you arent good enough," or "you're too stupid to make your own decisions," you arent going to later in life, unless you have had a lot of counseling, all of a sudden decide you deserve to be treated well. If you are treated poorly as a child, tween,  teen and young adult, as a woman, your trauma infused brain will seek out the same.  Trauma seeks out trauma. Trauma attracts more trauma. It's called the nuerobiology of trauma and few people truly understand its impacts on the brain. And finally, Elliot Rodgers wasn't a child. And he may have been mentally ill but let's not underscore he was also a mysognist.  Had he done and said what he did about blacks or gays or Muslims, it would've been a hate crime. But since he hated women, we refer to him as a child with a mental illness.  Let's call it what it is, John Q. Public. 

Throwing Like a Girl

Mother's Day is many different things to many people but it is probably universally accepted to be the day where everyone pays some sort of tribute to their mommas. I'm not so naive as to believe becoming a mother magically turns a woman into a saint. I know there are plenty of women who have children for selfish reasons--to fill a void, to find love, to save a relationship--all burdens that no child should ever be brought into the world to bear. I also know all too well the hatred and hurt that can be meted out by one who calls herself "mother." But on Mother's Day, we set those wounds aside and try to focus on the beauty of this thing we call motherhood despite the fact that every and any mother brings with them the baggage of their own childhoods.

On Mother's Day of this year, after eating a grilled bratwurst, I found myself smiling at my 10-month- old daughter. I was feeling proud and thankful that my husband and I had survived the last four years.  It may not sound like much-- four years in a lifetime is rather insignificant afterall. But for my husband and I, these last four years tested the very backbone of our relationship. We had survived a bankruptcy due to my husband's business (which he sold to avoid the divorce prospect I had thrown on the table); a lawsuit initiated by the guarantor of my husband's business loan who thought we were simply trying to screw him over because he couldn't  fathom a couple who didn't have access to a "mere" $25,000; my deployment to hell and back only to find out that hell followed me wherever i went, two moves across the State of Iowa, three different houses; one townhome; six new jobs between my husband and I, five new daycare centers for my son, difficulty conceiving for a year to be followed by a miscarriage, the re-onset of my severe depression and countless other moments and events that have made up life for us. But we never gave up on each other, although honestly, I came closer than I would like to admit.  But after it was all said and done, on Mother's Day of this year,  I found myself feeling immensely proud because John and I had held our family together and we had welcomed another beautiful child into this world as a result. 

As I was admiring my amazing daughter, the words "You throw like a girl," ripped me back to reality. I looked over to see my sister-in-law's new boyfriend spitting those words to my sixteen year old nephew. The words were obviously hurled as an insult to a teenaged boy who was playing bean bag toss in the yard. I immediately felt that white hot rage that constantly bubbles below the surface rise inside of me like lava exploding from a volcano. But characteristic of post-Afghanistan Jill, I didn't say a word (See prior posting Crazy Bitch for context). Instead, I just felt sick knowing that my beautiful daughter who smiles from the instant she gets up in the morning until the time she cannot keep her bright eyes open, would grow up in a world where a slovenly man who honestly probably hadn't engaged in anything remotely close to athletics for the past thirty years, didn't think twice about insulting women and their capabilities on the one day we set aside to honor women. 

I have reflected on this moment in time several times since then.  A professional implied to me i was making too big of a deal about it and that plenty of people don't find those words insulting because the reality is that girls pitch differently than boys. But after continued reflection, I disagree. Girls may pitch differently than boys (i.e. throwing underhand instead of overhand). But those five words-you throw like a girl-arent usually said in a way that simply highlights that there are pitching differences between the sexes. Rather, those five little words are said, at worst, as a fucking insult, or at best, as an observation of one's throwing abilities. Either way, if we truly analyze the statement, we all know it is not usually said as a compliment.  And yet, no woman at the backyard barbecue on Mother's Day, said a word about this statement or protested its utterance. We all let it go, if we noticed it at all.  Maybe that's the worst part. Women seem to have given up the fight. Since we now can vote and work for less pay, we seem to have defected from the feminist movement in droves. We accept misogyny as part of our daily lives and by accepting it, we implicitly condone it.

You might be reading this thinking I'm some uptight bitch. Could five words really have such an impact? Could an off hand comment really hold such meaning? Perhaps it is just a phrase born out of legitimate differences between the sexes. I think these justifications are just a way for people to maintain the illusion that misogyny isn't as prevalent as what it is. Misogyny,  if we are truly ready to get real about it, is everywhere in our society.  We may not have to wear burqas in America but all American women have to deal with a less overt form of this hatred of women. In America, it might even be more damaging because we have managed to delude ourselves into thinking there isn't a problem. This means that anyone who identifies it or calls it for what it is can easily be written off as an uptight bitch.

The problem is best illuminated in other contexts. We would all likely consider it homophobic if we heard someone say, "You throw like a homo," or racist if we heard someone say "You throw like an Asian" or "You throw like a Jew."  As a society we seem to know better than to say these things publically. But saying "You throw like a girl" isn't seen as even remotely problematic.  Women have been taught accept such things for fear of being seen as sensitive or of being called that horrible "F" word--Feminist. The issue is, though, by condoning such behavior and not calling it what it is, we allow all our accomplishments and advancements to be rendered inconsequential.   I'm a lawyer, a marathoner, a veteran, a Major, a mother and many other things. But because I'm also a woman, an overweight old guy who by most comparisons is not as successful or accomplished as I am and has never met me before felt no shame in denigrating me and my abilities on Mother's Day, the one day we try to honor women, by uttering five thoughtless words.  Maybe its not a big deal to anyone but me. But I have to wonder if this acceptance by silence contributed in part to the radical form of misogynistic beliefs pronounced by Elliot Rodger.  More on that topic this Friday if you are interested in hearing more. For now, I will try to find my voice again for the sake of my daughter. I can't stand the thought of her spirit being crushed someday when she realizes her accomplishments, no matter what they are, can be reduced to rubble just as quick as some guy can say, "You throw like a girl."

Stars in Our Own Worlds

I want to follow through with my commitments, even seemingly "small" ones, so this post serves as a twofold commitment fulfiller (I thought I made this word up...turns out, it's a real word!). 1) I am committed to posting a positive, gracious post for every critical and, perhaps nettling, post I publish. 2) I said after Monday's quiz I would follow up with my own thoughts and reflections on said quiz.

I must begin with a confession-one I'm not proud of but I think serves to highlight a couple thoughts I want to convey. First, I truly do believe, as I stated in my last post, that sharing our thoughts and hearts is one of the most powerful and memorable gifts we can give one another. I include vulnerability and honesty in the powerful gift package.

I am being honest and vulnerable when I admit I hadn't read Molly or Kristen's two most recent posts (I commit to reading each post the day of posting, henceforth!!!) until I had already decided to post the quiz on Monday; I was struck that at least part (if not most) of their messages were in the same vein as what I feel the quiz provokes thought on-what we spend our time, energy, thoughts and resources on and what truly matters in life. There are moments in life when I know I'm really in tune with the universe, moments I know there is a thing worth saying, repeating and being reminded of. The convergence of our posts was one of these moments.

For me, Monday's quiz is a palpable reminder of what really matters, not only in my life, but in all of our lives. Every so often, it is good to check in with ourselves and assess where we are putting our time, energy, thought, love, and yes, even money. Often the questions in this quiz help me recalibrate, if necessary.

Sometimes, when I feel like a square peg trying to fit into a round hole, I remind myself that love-loving others and loving myself-is what truly matters, makes an impact and changes the world. The people who matter in my life will remember and care about my love, the way I treated them, the support I gave them, the time I spent with them and the way I lived my life. I know that is what I remember when looking back over my own life.

Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." In my experience, the intention behind her quote is true. Sometimes what we say and do contributes to how we make people feel-I don't think she would argue that. To me, her point is the same as what Molly, Kristen's and Monday's quiz all make-what we remember in our lives and relationships, when it's all said and done, is the love, grace, kindness and generosity of spirit within them...not grand proclamations or promotions or financial outlays.

Each one of us can use an assessment, a recalibration, of our priorities and thought patterns every so often. My wish for all of us is that we are a "success" and a star in our own lives, in our own world-the world we touch, the world we love in-whatever that looks like for each of us, despite our larger societies' definitions of of "success".

One of the Most Powerful Quizzes You Will Ever Take

In honor of what is the end of another school year for many, I have a very important, enlightening quiz for everyone to take. It is a two part quiz; bear with me through both parts-the information is important for your future success and happiness (insert flashing red lights here!!!). I took this quiz when I was in graduate school and I haven't forgotten it since then. It's not open internet or open book...just open mind :)

Part I

1) Who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1980?

2) Who won the Superbowl in 1983?

3) Who won the 1985 Academy Award for Best Actor?

4) Who was the wealthiest person in 2005?

5) Who was the Chairmen of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 2002?

Ok...how many could you name? Now you can use the all powerful Google to check your answers on this section....I'll wait while you tally.

Part II

1) Which teacher was the most influential in your life?

2) Who comforted you in your time of greatest pain/need?

3) Who made you laugh yesterday, last week, last year?

4) Who accepts and loves you for you?

5) Who are the people in your best memories?

Again I ask-how many could you name in Part II? Compare your totals. Think about what that means for your life...for our societal priorities...for the allocation of our individual and societal scarce resources of time and energy...and think about how we live our lives in regards to the answers to these questions.

I think about this quiz quite often since the first time I took it. I consider myself a trivia buff so I was taken down a few pegs when I couldn't answer any of the first five questions. I remember feeling humbled and grateful after the second five questions and the thought and discussions that have since followed...even years later.

I'd like to hear your thoughts and reflections, if you would be so kind and generous to share your time and energy briefly with me. I'd also like to share mine with you later-I don't want to impact or direct the course of discussion right now, though I do want to share my thought and reflections with you. I feel sharing our thoughts and hearts is one of the most powerful and memorable gifts we can give one another <3

From Starving to Striving

Me during my senior year and at the height of my eating dissorder (right).

Every girl wants to have the perfect body. Whether it is curves, a thigh gap, or a washboard stomach; we all have our perception of what we think we should look like. Media has us all confused. On one page of a magazine we see a plus sized female telling us all to embrace the way we look, while a flip of the page brings us to a small petite woman demonstrating different exercises to achieve the beloved “thigh gap.” This can make us question our standards, and lead us to becoming obsessed with analyzing our bodies and standing in front of mirrors grabbing ourselves in multiple places, pulling in different directions, trying to get an idea of what we would look like if we lost that little bit of fat around our waist. It’s a vicious cycle, and we all do it.

 

Growing up, I had always been a little “bigger.” I never was abnormally overweight or obese, but I was always a little on the heavy side. I would get spurts of motivation of working out but would always fall out, causing me to put weight back on and becoming upset every. single. time. Of course, my family and friends would all rebuttal my comments with, “You are NOT fat” and “You are far from what you think you look like.” No matter what they said, I would still never be comfortable in my own skin. I was never happy with what I saw in the mirror.

 

The summer after my sophomore year of high school, I started to talk see a guy, and over the next year we were kind of dating on and off. I would hear rumors going around of the new girl he was talking to, and it was usually the same girl every time we were in our “off” stage. Every time it happened, I would think, “It’s probably because she’s so much prettier than me,” or “She’s really skinny.” I would torture myself with these thoughts. One of the times that this happened, I did not take it well at all. I overheard some girls talking about it, and heard them saying something similar along the lines of those exact thoughts I was having. This sent me into a major outrage, and I was determined to change myself to show him I could be the same way.

 

Over the next few months, I worked out every single day and made sure that my diet contained no fast foods or unhealthy products. People took notice, and I would get comments such as, “You look so good!” and “Have you been working out?” I was so excited that my hard work was paying off. Soon enough, my boyfriend and I had gotten back together and he had even asked me to prom. I was so excited with my found love for fitness, and I was determined to keep it going.

Over the summer, I finished the well-known workout series called Insanity. Although it is a great program for those who are looking to drop some weight, I really wish I would have never came across it.

 

Over the summer, I dropped 40 pounds, and had become unrecognizable. My legs had lost their curves and had become sticks, and below my eyes were dark circles. The “You look so good!”s had ceased and I just got stares. At the beginning of my senior year, there were many rumors going around saying that I had been taking Adderall or doing drugs in order to lose weight. These rumors really hurt my self esteem, but I wasn’t going to let it affect me. I thought that I looked good, and I was going to keep on doing what I was doing. This is where my life quickly turned to a downward spiral.

 

On average, I would run 4 or 5 miles almost every single day. Although many other people in the world do this or run even more, I was not eating the amount of food my body needed to be in homeostasis. I dropped even more weight, and people took notice. I would get called into my counselor’s office because teachers would voice their concern. I was always cold, and I now know that it was because I did not have a sufficient amount of body fat, but at the time I thought there might be something going on in my body. I went to the doctor to get a total blood count, and when I got called back to the doctor’s office, he could not believe the amount of weight I had lost, but not in the good way. He was very concerned, and I had scheduled office visits every other week for a weigh in. I always was trying to convince him, my friends, my family, and even myself, that I was truly trying to gain weight. But deep down, I knew that I had a problem. I was deathly scared of gaining even a pound, although I was at an imperceptible 98 pounds.

 

I also began to see a nutritionist that was friends with my mom, Miranda Reinhardt, at the Ottawa, Illinois YMCA. Although I had never met this woman before in my life, I could tell from the first moment that I talked to her that this was somebody that cared about her clients. I continued to have sporadic visits with Miranda, and I loved going to see her. Even today, I still keep in touch with her and shoot her a text every now and then whether to say hi or a question about nutrition. Without her, I would not be where I am today.

 

As the new 2013 year came around, I become seriously depressed. No matter how hard my boyfriend tried to make me happy, I was always sad. I couldn’t find joy in the things that I used to find joy in, unless I was running. I struggled with the idea of eating, and would not eat if anyone were around me. I specifically remember one afternoon I had just got done running outside at a nearby lake (after running on a treadmill at the YMCA), and had drove home to have a post-workout snack. When I got to the corner of my house, I noticed that my mom’s car was still in the driveway. I thought that she would have already left for work. In order to avoid eating my small snack in front of her, I drove around town for about twenty minutes, crying, until she had left. I felt so guilty after eating ANTYHING remotely “unhealthy.” My mom would offer me a bite of her cookie, and I wouldn’t even take that. I would eat a small cookie and would dwell on my feelings of guilt.

 

I loved my friends and family, I hated life. I loved food, I hated food. I loved working out, I hated working out. I loved seeing Miranda, I hated talking to Miranda. It was a constant battle of love and hate. Eventually, my boyfriend couldn’t take my changed personality. He knew I wasn’t happy, and he felt that he wasn’t enough. Eventually, we broke up, and I hated life even more.

At the time, I would have denied having an eating disorder. I knew I had a problem, but I couldn’t convince myself that it was an eating disorder. Today, I can say that I suffered from EDNOS, an Eating Disorder Not Otherwised Specified. Many people had their suspicions, and many of my friends and family defended and stood up for me. For those of you that did, I’m very sorry and I hope you don’t feel betrayed.

 

I’m not sure what it was that made me change, but after graduation I stopped running. I began lifting weights and slowly put back on all my weight. I started hearing, “You look so good!” again, but this time I knew it was sincere. I began to look like a healthy teenaged woman again, and not deathly ill.

Today, I am comfortable with myself, and even though there are things on my body that need improvement, I am fine with how they are, and continue to work on what I want to change. Since coming to college, I’ve learned to accept myself for who I am. The world is not going to end if I miss a day at the gym, and I’m not going to gain 10 pounds from eating some ice cream at lunch.

 

Whenever I am having negative thoughts about my body, my roommate is always there to convince me otherwise, and I’m reminded of how far I’ve come. This past January, I joined a crossfit gym here in Iowa City, and have met numerous people who are working at the same thing I am: bettering my self, body and mind. One particular person that I met through crossfit, Krissie Alesch, who actually is the person that I am blogging for, has been one of my biggest motivators and a good friend. Her, along with everybody else in my gym, have helped me accept my flaws and myself, and inspire me to reach for my goals every single day.

 

When I started my journey, I weighed 146 pounds. During my journey, my lowest weight was 98 pounds. Today, I weigh 155 pounds. I would take this over being my senior year self any day. Although this story was very hard for me to share, I wanted to do so to inspire others and help others who may be in the same boat as I was. Body image is a topic that needs to be addressed among young woman. Everybody is different, and no two bodies are going to be the same. Do not compare yourself to the Victora’s Secret model on TV, the body builder in the magazine, or the beauty queen that you sit next to in class. The only person you need to compare yourself to is the old you, and focus on bettering yourself, body and mind.

Before I go, I wanted to thank all of my friends and family who have supported me through this rough time. I’m sorry that you spent all of your time defending me when I was suffering all along, but I couldn’t have came out of this without you guys. The very last thing that I want to say is to other women who may be suffering from any type of eating disorder: You are not alone. There are people who care about you and want to see you succeed. Remember, a journey of 1000 miles begins with a first step.

-Written by: Shelby Straughn
                     Age 19
                     Freshmen at the University of Iowa

Me as of today: Heavier, healthier and STRONGER
 

 

12 Year Old Boy

She caresses her naked body, tugging on every bit of loose skin she can possibly find while observing it as carefully as a piece of glass under a microscope. She looks herself up and down in what she thinks to be a tainted mirror, with thoughts of doubt and questions about her appearance racing through her head. Sometimes she's in love with her body while other times she cannot stand to look at who is looking back at her.

Every night before I go to bed and every morning just before getting dressed, this scenario would ocurr. I would analyze myself to a T and pick out everything about my body that I was unhappy about. Thoughts of my hips being to wide, my thighs being too big or if only I wouldn't have drunkenly ate that Pancheros the night before would race through my mind. Sometimes these thoughts would overwhelm me to the point of tears, hatered and disgust, and thinking irrational thoughts about dieting. I would talk myself into believing irrational ideas such as that I had gained weight profusely, even though others would say I looked great. I would have arguments in my head of how I was a piece of shit because I didn't stick to my particular diet and I would condemn myself because I didn't have a six pack of abs and was not a size 4.

Having thoughts like these eventually become extremely wearing on a person because it is hard to feel good about yourself and it is hard to go about enjoying life when you are constantly preoccupied with eating your next meal, when you are going to work it off, and worst yet, what if you didn't have time to work it off. My biggest fear was not one of death nor spiders, but my biggest fear was that I saw myself in a different way than how others perceived me. I constantly asked myself what if I only think I look fine while others may see me as being 300 pounds. I once asked my roommate if our mirror was broken and if it was lying to me, making me look skinnier than I actually was. I've struggled with these irrational thoughts ever since I came to college and depending what I am going through at the time determines how prevalent these thoughts are in my head.These thoughts have always been very disturbing to me, but I would somehow find a way in justifying them as me having an off day and shove them to the back of my head.

I would constantly wish my hips would go away and I would have a straight down body with no curves. I didn't want bigger boobs because if I didn't have them then it would most likely increase my run time. One time, before my friend and I went out, I even asked her, "Don't you ever just wish you had the body of a 12 year old boy, skinny and straight down with no hips or curves?" I was basically, in a sense, wishing away my womanhood.

Then, one night a couple of weeks ago, while I was laying in bed, once again feeling how far my hip bones stuck out, it finally hit me. I came to the utmost fantastic realization that I am not a 12 year old boy; I am a woman. My womanly figure will never shrivel away to that of a 12 year old boy and my boobs and hips sure as hell weren't going anywhere. Why? Because that is a woman's natural anatomy.

This realization sparked a whole different line of thoughts for me. Instead of embracing our womanhood, why are several females striving to eliminate that? Why, instead of embracing that we have hips and boobs so that maybe one day we can carry a child, do we condemn that? And why, while we are embarrassed of being a size 8, do we strive to be a size zero? Sometimes I can't help but wonder if women strive to transform their womanly bodies because in our society being a male is the desired sex. I can't help but wonder if we are slowly trying to, in a sense, eliminate women.

Obviously, because we are human, we are going to have thoughts of doubt every once in a while, but they do not need to control your life. Putting all your energy toward your appearance, weight, and how others perceive you is only taking away from the energy you could be putting toward starting a new organization, getting that new promotion or being a better friend and family member. I still struggle with letting these irrational thoughts control me every once in a while, but I remind myself that I am not a 12 year old boy, nor will I ever get down to being a size zero. I am a WOMAN.

So, now every time I look in the mirror, which has become less and less since I gave my full length mirror away to my roommate, I try to embrace my hips, my boobs and the little bit of extra fat I have on my belly. I remind myself that the woman's body is beautiful and that we should not strive to eliminate it by conforming to that insane ideal of being a size zero. I try and direct my thoughts and energy to something that is more beneficial than worrying about the little flaws that I may never change; because at the end of the day, L
adies, the more time you spend on trying to control every last bit of your diet and image is the less time you have trying to spend  on creating a life and living it. <3