John Mayer was Right

Since I returned from my honeymoon, I have experienced an internal calming in an area that has long been a private and turbulent obsession of mine. That is my body--its weight, its proportions, the clothing size it requires. I admit this inner demon of mine with some embarrassment, but as its sharpness and all consuming nature begins slowly to soften and ebb, I almost feel a need to express it, in order to more aptly celebrate the potential of its passing.

I can hardly remember a time when I was not acutely aware of my body and how it related to the world around me. I would always notice and pinpoint distinctions--as a child it was whose legs were skinnier than mine, and as I got older the areas of comparison grew until eventually, in my mind, my body was not really my own but rather an entity that existed only as a better or worse reflection of those around me. My freshman year in college was when this notion of an ideal body and its untenability became paramount in my mind, and has stayed since. Much like an alcoholic must constantly fight thoughts of drink, I continually wrestled with my mind's eye and the way I felt inside my own skin.

Luckily, I never physically manifested this mental anguish. Perhaps because of a gentler gene somewhere in my DNA it really never occurred to me to starve myself or purge--I was brought up with a healthy attitude towards food and there was no urge to tamper with that--at least to an extreme. There were many weeks when I vowed not to eat dessert, to cut my portions--all types of diet roller coaster type schemes that did nothing but affect the up and down view I had of myself. The real problem always existed in my mind--a completely morphed view of my physical self and a complete inability to accept myself as I was.

Perhaps it sounds like my constantly negative view was an attempt to elicit compliments, but it truly wasn't. Rather it was a heart wrenching, confusing and deep handicap that preyed on me and ruined my ability to be carefree and enjoy so many moments. When I was in college if a particular pair of jeans was too tight, I would opt to stay in. At a bar in New York my spirits would sink lower as I would see girl after girl that was skinnier than me, whose arms were smaller, whose athletic body I thought made mine look mushy and unappealing. Even when out to dinner with my wonderful, supportive husband, there are times when I would fight back tears because I had gotten on the scale that morning and been mortified by what I saw.

Of course, there were times when I would be blessed with a streak of confidence. Mostly they would come after several weeks of diligent working out, strict eating and a precise concentration on my body. So while I would enjoy these periods, they never felt as freeing because they were not my normal state--they were come by artificially, it seemed. I wanted to feel like that all the time, without having altered my life drastically to get there. I desperately wanted to exist freely--to workout and enjoy it instead of being fascinated by an ideal physique it might create; to enjoy a healthy meal because of the nutrients, the taste and its benefit to my health and not because I'm proud for depriving myself of a more decadent option. I wanted to just be.

Now, finally, I am beginning to feel this state. And it is clean, fresh, and exhilarating. Sure, it is happening after I am married, but it has nothing to do with any silly thoughts of being able to let myself go since I have "hooked" the man. Instead, I think its a glorious side effect of learning exactly who I am on the inside. As I began to understand and full appreciate my internal self, there was quietly growing a steady appreciation for my outside self. And now, it has effervesced into a lovely calm and quieted my savage thoughts with regard to my physical appearance. So what if my legs are not skinny--they have carried me through my life. So my stomach is not flat and my abs not washboard--someday, somewhere behind them I will, God willing, shelter life. So what if my arms are not as thin and toned as I'd like--they have held so many babies, been locked in so many embraces, and been thrown around so many loved ones. A wonderland, indeed.