Weight & Beauty: Part 1 – The Very First Lie

by erika haveman

Before I hit that gloriously confusing stage of life we call puberty I was about as round as a twig. I was a figure skater, and the demands the sport put on my body kept me thin. Even as I got taller I was hard pressed to find an ounce of fat on my body.

I quit skating when I was 13. I could say, “As a result I gained weight,” but being older and wiser I realize that when everyone hits this age their bodies start changing – always for the better. However, I recall a night sometime after quitting when 15 my parents sat me down and offered what I can only imagine they thought was encouragement since they’d observed my body was changing, no longer being a skater. Their advice was something along these lines:

“I know you’re not as active as you used to be. But if you’re not careful, you’re going to get fat. We know someone whose daughter was as thin as you, but by the time she graduated high school, she was really fat.”

React to that as you see fit. I do not recall much of my reaction but I remember fearing weight gain. I recall the fear that if I was to get “fat” then I apparently wouldn’t be attractive. Weight gain and beauty were not things that work together, so I’d better watch it. I realize my parents probably didn’t mean to suggest I was ugly, but in the confusing mind of a girl dealing with the onslaught of raging hormones this probably wasn’t the best advice. From then on out, I assumed that being beautiful was synonymous with being skinny. So began my teenage girl trial.

If you’re a woman and reading this, you probably remember the line that set you off. The suggestion about weight and beauty that confused you, the line that left you feeling hopeless. Maybe you recall seeing your mother poke and pull at the weight she gained as a result of carrying you inside of her for 9 months, and you heard her negatively comment on her body. You scuttled into your room, in front of your mirror and started to find those excess bits of fat on your body, too. “If mom thinks of her weight negatively, that must be what’s normal. Weight is bad,” is what your subconscious told you. Whatever it was for you, I want you to think about that moment, that beginning, as you follow along with this series that will barely scratch the surface of this issue. I don’t say this to shame you, but to have you recognize and therein combat the first lie you ever believed about your body. This is very, very important because it was that lie that was the first little snowball that you kept pushing as your life went on, and now it’s an Elsa-sized snow monster that needs destroying. (Random fun fact: Erika just watched Frozen for the first time over Easter. It exceeded the hype!)

I’m writing this series in response to the comments and questions about my confidence. The past number of years I can recall several conversations with women about how they don’t feel beautiful. This has surprised me each time since 1. the woman I’m talking with is always stunning and 2. my adult years as a woman haven’t been filled with self esteem or body image issues. I’ve thought I’m beautiful for a long time. As a result I also don’t know anybody who isn’t beautiful.

You see, after I was given that detrimental advice in the 9th grade to “not get fat” I went through all the highs and lows of teenagehood. All I wanted was to have someone tell me I’m loved, pretty, cherished, beautiful. By someone I mean a boy. And by a boy I mean whatever boy I was crushing on. After finishing high school and never dating, never even having a boy interested in me (for all I know) I felt a little (a lot) sad, and confused (I’ll carry on with this thought next week!). I’d managed to “not get fat” but my body still wasn’t the stick it used to be. Now it had some little curves, a bump right around where my jeans buttoned up, a tail section that would often hold me back from getting through small spaces, and the acne that had tormented me through high school had left scars and, wouldn’t ya know it, an apparently different form of acne had decided to set up camp on my face. I didn’t hate my body, but I didn’t embrace it. I didn’t think I was ugly, but I certainly didn’t think I was beautiful.

How do we get to that point of knowing we’re beautiful? First let’s be real about something.

In case nobody has ever told you: YOUR BODY CHANGES. It will continue to change. At puberty it develops into a woman, it readies itself to embrace its sexuality in all of its glory, pleasure and self control. After it conceives, it grows another human inside of it, and then it pushes it out before sucking back into itself, often leaving fantastic scars proving how amazing your body is. You may now find you’ve got some extra bit of person for many someones (your little one(s) and your hubs) to embrace, but don’t worry, you’ll keep changing anyways. Soon you’ll find your metabolism shifts, and you don’t process foods as quickly, despite your phenomenal eating habits and the cardio you do chasing those kiddos your body grew. Oh, and I forgot to mention that somewhere around now you may find that you’re experiencing more of that acne someone said you’d never get again. Your hormones are shifting pretty dramatically, and when that happens, it just means you’re being given the opportunity to try new things (like a new face washing routine; I highly recommend going natural with things like Coconut Oil and Apple Cider Vinegar). Then you’ll look in the mirror one day and see that things are sagging, wrinkling – just not quite as smooth as they used to be. Your fingers are spindly and your legs are veiny. Then, after a long life, well lived, you’ll fade away and join the One that created, purposed, and designed your body in all of its magnificent stages and changes.

Your body was designed to change.

God is unchanging. God stays the same. He is who and what matters. Let it end there. God may have created your body to change, and you can take that up with Him all you want some day. But hey, you weren’t actually created for this world anyways, you just get to live here for a while because there’s some things you need to do. So why not learn to embrace all of who you are today and get to it? God doesn’t make ugly things.

Homework for the week (yes, you have homework this time):

If you’re believing the lie that you’re not beautiful, think back and try find that first lie that anybody told you, or you overheard, or oversaw, about weight and beauty. Tell yourself that thing you’ve been believing is a lie. Look yourself in the eye and tell yourself you’re beautiful. Look yourself up and down (for those up for the extra challenge, do this in a bikini, or underwear or right after you’re out of the shower and in your birthday suit) and tell yourself God doesn’t create ugly things. Wash (tell yourself your beautiful), rinse (take a deep sigh), and repeat (do it all again).