BITCHIN' REALITY

One of the things that I noticed happening once I started studying body dissatisfaction is that people began to think that because I study it, I no longer deal with it. In other words, they assume that there’s some magic formula I’ve discovered that allows me to transcend the whole dissatisfaction experience. The reality is that like most of the women I know and have talked with, I am not happy with my body. I know all of my “problem” spots, what I should or could do to change them, and how to artfully arrange my clothing to disguise them. The reality is that the only difference between my body dissatisfaction and other women’s is that I know exactly why I feel this way. I understand the various cultural and media discourses that have helped create my dissatisfaction. And I am intimately aware of how my thoughts and actions contribute to the whole thing.

This time of year, with the holidays looming and cold iciness outside my window I find myself obsessing even more about my body. I don’t take as many walks, and incessant cold weather is the reason that comfort food is called a comfort. Of course it doesn’t help the situation that everywhere I turn there’s another end of semester special dinner or yet another plate of holiday cookies. One day last week I counted 7 different plates of cookies in the short walk from my office in the basement to my classroom on the first floor. Seven plates of cookies that I had to pass multiple times! And, as you know, holiday cookies are especially tempting with their pretty colors and extra dollops of chocolate. They just call out to all who see them to grab one and take a bite. Not wanting to disappoint anyone or leave any holiday cookie alone on the plate I dutifully grabbed one, just one, each time I passed a plate. With 7 plates and multiple trips to the classroom, you can just imagine how many cookies I ate. By the end of the day I was sugar rushing with the best of them!

If I were truly above the experience of body dissatisfaction, I wouldn’t have thought each time I grabbed a cookie how bad I was being. I wouldn’t have chastised myself for not being good and avoiding the temptation. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you how many calories I was ingesting with each cookie and how many of those calories were from fat. But I did all these things and more. I thought about skipping dinner to offset the extra calories. I toyed with the idea of doing an extra workout to rid my body of them. I found myself trapped in what I call the Cycle of Dissatisfaction. In a matter of just a few hours I had taken myself from feeling fine and kind of liking how I was looking these days to being obsessed with the love handles that have invaded my body.

Of all the facets of body dissatisfaction that I write about, the Cycle of Dissatisfaction is the most frustrating for me. I don’t have a magic formula for breaking the cycle. The evening of the cookie binge I did end up eating dinner and settling for a regular workout. I spent the rest of the night shaking my head in frustration over the situation. One day I hope that the magic formula will reveal itself to me. In the mean time I keep eating cookies and reminding myself how many better things there are for me to think about than my body.