What’s Not to Like?
As some of you may or may not have picked up on (either from knowing me, or having taken the time to read the tiny about me), I’m a mother. My daughter is a year old, and currently helping recycle by taking things out of the recycling bin and handing them to her grandmother. Good girl – we’ll put you to work yet. But one of those rather unpleasant side effects of having a baby is getting through nine months of hell, and then finding out that you as you don’t exist any more. That physique, that mental image that you until that point held of yourself is abolished in a wave of viscera and ichor (I’m so kind to my child, eh?).
For me, this means that the tinycute person I always was is now this nearly as thin person stuck with a pooch; the way I gain and lose weight, the only way to lose the baby belly is emaciating myself, or getting surgery. I don’t deem either option appropriate. Supposedly, I’ll get over this by the time my daughter is about 18 months old, though I don’t agree with all the guidelines. I think daily make-up wear is disrespectful to your skin, sets a bad example, etc – obsession with image tells your children that they too should worry about it. So I find myself irked to be concerned with it. It’s not that I think I’m grossly fat (I’m pretty middle of the road for normal BMI), though I don’t like the squishiness when I sit down. I really don’t like shopping, and I find myself having to do a fair amount of it to find pants that stay on and don’t give me a muffin. If I could find pants that stayed up, something tells me I’d not worry about the rest of it, ha ha…
But then, one has to wonder at the media influence. I’m glad that there are resources out there encouraging people to accept and love what they have become, but they’re whispers in a sea of pressure to conform to a certain image. I cannot imagine how severe that feels for those that feel they need to be part of the herd to belong; I stand apart and often aghast at what passes for normal and acceptable. The objectification of women is more readily accomplished by our denial of outer influence, and allows us to taint the next generation of little consumers with all our neurosis. And I admit to a certain morbid fascination – I cannot help but try to understand the cycle. And then hike up my jeans and grumble about them not staying up; I mentioned how distracting that is, right? Good. <__<
Anyways, I’m not sure what my point about this is. I guess I wish people were more able to love themselves, and then love others. I’m generally appalled by the levels of bashing that people feel is okay in order to big themselves up, and this sort of thing fits into that arena. And as I’m usually the one getting bashed one way or the other (too thin, too stuck up, too spazzy, too weird, too judgmental), perhaps it’s just a selfish self-preservation method to want that. *chuckles* Though truly, there are too many people who insist on viewing the world in black and white, and if you don’t agree with me, then you’re obviously wrong, which is ridiculous. And yet, it’s so prevalent it makes me wonder if I’m stuck in Kindergarten…
Aaand as the train is obviously derailing for the day, I’ll leave it at that. Have a nice day, unless you’re a spambot. If you’re a spambot, I’m going to turn you into a bleeding fritter for making me moderate so many times today! *shakes tiny fist of impotent rage*
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