I learned very young that a woman’s power came from her looks. Specifically, my beauty, or lack there of, was how my worth was measured. The straightness of my nose and thickness of my eyelashes were important but useless if I wasn’t skinny. Tall and sturdy for my age, I took on the onus of “the fat kid” long before the title fit. My mother, with her movie star looks, was ashamed of me. She saw me as extension of herself.
My first attempt at weight loss was in the fourth grade. I had the brilliant idea of slicing my stomach with a razor and squeezing the fat out. Of course, I never could go through with it. Every night as I lay in bed, the success of my day was measured by how little I ate. The obsession to be thin had already taken hold.
When puberty hit, my weight soared out of control. The pressure to be perfect was overwhelming. I looked at the models in Seventeen magazine and knew I could never measure up. It wasn’t until years later that I learned the models didn’t measure up either. They had been airbrushed to flawlessness in their photos.
When I turned sixteen, my mother typed a rite of passage letter to me and signed it with, “Love, Mom.” What struck me the most in it was her advice to “marry a man who is going places and will take you with him.” I had learned the only bargaining tool to hitch that ride was my looks. And what I saw in the mirror told me I was doomed. I decided I’d better develop my talents.
My story does have a happy ending. At 23, I married a man who loved me just the way I was. Whenever I questioned how he could be attracted to me he said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I thought that was his way of saying I love you in spite of how you look. Today I know better. My husband was way smarter than the media gave most credit for. He could see past the images that beauty advertisements were trying to force down our throats. After 34 years of marriage, he still loves my soul and my own brand of gorgeous that encapsulates it.
Over the years, with a concentrated effort, I’ve undone much of the damage to my body image. Movies like Miss Representation have helped. Most recently a wonderful blog post by Kasey Edwards affirmed my belief that the way most women see their bodies is an illusion. Our perception has little to do with how the world sees us.
I’ve come to peace with my mother and her inability to accept the body I was born into. I see now that like me, she was a victim of “lookism.” Born in the 1920’s, a bride in the 1950’s, she was a product of our culture. In her own convoluted way, she was just trying to keep me safe. She was passing on the societal expectations she had learned from her own mother.
Yes, at times, I still fall back into feeling horrified by the way I look. Recently, I saw a picture of myself that made me cringe. Instead of taking the feelings to heart, I now compare them to how I feel hearing a recording of my voice. Like most people, I don’t like the way I sound, but don’t take the foreignness of it to mean I’m flawed. In the same way, I no longer take my reaction to a photograph of myself to heart either. It doesn’t mean anything. My initial discomfort doesn’t stem from how I look but comes from the disconnection I feel of looking at a shell. The “real” me is formless.
Our world is evolving and so am I. The best gage of my self-acceptance is my daughter and the women my sons chose to marry. All three are stunning, accomplished women. They exude self-confidence and embrace who they are. No matter how thin or pretty, they would never think to add the superficial to their list of achievements. They where brought up knowing their power isn’t on the outside but lies within, being beautiful is no longer a career path.
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All text and images © Sue Shanahan. All rights reserved. www.sueshanahan.com
What a great blog post. It is time women are recognized for who they are and not just how they look. But I believe it starts with us personally knowing this deep within.
Thanks, Gigi, I agree. When we were girls it didn’t even seem to be an option. I am so glad our daughters live in a different world.
Sue, I love this article. Surprisingly, even the skinny girls can become victims of ‘lookism.’ I was thin up until my mid 30’s. I was called a ‘whale’ and so I thought I was fat, hence a very mixed-up self-image. When I reached my mid 30’s, I began steadily gaining weight even though I exercised 4 times a week and ate well. Now that I am older, I always find myself so dissatisfied with photos or recordings of myself. My mother was beautiful, too, and she never had a weight problem. So, our journey as women, thin and ‘fluffy’ is to connect with the real meaning of what beauty is.
I love what you wrote. By us connecting to the beauty of our souls, our bodies are free to be what they were born to be. By doing that we automatically give that message to our girls.
As the “Ugly duckling” in a line up of three children,I can relate. The beauty and subsequent popularity of my sister and brother didn’t make them happy. They are both dead-51 and 54 years of age.Wasted lives. Drug and alcohol related. I live on, celebrating their lives each day but being very grateful for the lessons I’ve learned,being me. Thank you for this great read.
I don’t think anyone who uses the superficial to make them happy finds lasting joy. I’m glad you’ve embraced the gift of you. 🙂
No beauty shines brighter than that of a good heart.
That’s why you are so beautiful
I love your posting Sue! I recognized your Mom immediately. You look a lot like her in that photo. Recently I posted a picture on FB of me and my new hat. I thought “woah who is that old woman with the wrinkled neck?!” I don’t feel old enough to have wrinkles. Pictures are an illusion sometimes. Not at all who we are inside.
Funny, I looked at that picture of you and all I saw was my dear friend who hasn’t changed a bit. 🙂