I believe that I am a very confident woman.
I feel that I have a lot going for me and am surrounded by some really great people in my life that make me the wonderful person I am.
I also feel that I look really great naked....as long as it is dark.
really
really
dark.
Yes, something I have always dealt with is poor self image. It dates as far back as I can remember. Some of my first memories were of me always being in the back row for class pictures. I stood behind the tiny people and looked over their heads wondering how cute they looked being that they actually looked their age. I was so tall for my age that my mom has told me people always expected more out of me because they felt I was older than I really was. As a kid, I thought it was cool I could reach the monkey bars before anyone else could and got to the point where I could see eye to eye with the janitor in 6th grade. I would go and speak to the school nurse or talk to my teacher, and they would have to look up at me when they asked me why I was not at recess.
The toughest time for me to deal with my height was the summer before my freshman year in high school. I was 13 years old and had graduated from Catholic grade school ready to embark on my first experience of public school. I was ecstatic. After 8 years of only having fourteen kids in my class, I was on the prowl for some new blood. My hormones were starting to go crazy and I was excited at the opportunity to have my first boyfriend. Visions of football games, homecoming dances and proms danced in my head. We would be like "The Breakfast Club" and dance on the tables in the library, and I would make my own prom dress and go with the hottest guy in the school to prom like "Pretty in Pink". I was just beyond words with anticipation.
I remember this particular day like it was yesterday. I was walking around downtown Delavan with a girlfriend of mine, and a guy pulled up in his car to talk to us. He looked over at my friend and went "hello there." Then he looked at me and just paused, ...not a "oh my GOD who is that?..." pause, but a "oh my God don't look at it, it might think you like it."
Now, I understand in high school, we can all say we were dorky. I quite often sported a stone washed jean jacket, about fifteen buttons that had cool sayings like "Dude" and "Menudo", anywhere from two to three swatch watches, red shoes, puffy socks, rock hard bangs pulled back into a banana clip or scrunchie. The 80's were such a great time to grow up in. My girlfriends and I often looked like the "wake me up before you go go" video.
But there was always such an insecure little girl inside of me. I was so self conscious of my body. The way it curved in places where my friends were so stick straight and thin. My boobs grew out before anyone Else's did, and it didn't make me feel sexy, they made me feel fat. In high school they called me things like "bounce bounce" and "black eyes." I never understood why woman got boob jobs when I always felt like having a big chest made me feel heavier than the other girls.
My hips were always bigger, my thighs were always larger. I was like one of those fun house mirrors you stand in front of and it makes you appear to be larger or wider.
I walked into a clothing store one time in particular, and I found a shirt and pair of pants that I really liked. I walked toward the dressing room and a woman the size of my fingernail came up and asked me if I needed a dressing room. I looked her up and down and her size one skirt actually hung loosely around her hips. I fantasized about holding her down and force feeding her a big mac but instead just smiled as she opened the door to the dressing room.
"let me know if you need a larger size."
wait.....did she just say LARGER size? Surely she said "different" size...right?
I undressed slowly and caught a glimpse of my ass in the three way mirror. Bent over, with the 900 watt super sonic light bulbs illuminating my ass and I stand up and look in the mirror.
Good Lord...is that what I look like? Certainly this is that stupid fun house mirror that I looked into as a kid. I push on the mirror half expecting it to move my reflection like a pool of water, but it doesn't. I squint my eyes, turn to the side, suck in like I am trying to get over the hiccups and then flex. It doesn't do anything but make me want to pass out.
My eyes scrutinize every inch of my body.
My toes need a pedicure
My legs have enough varicose veins that Google maps is calling me for directions.
My thighs look like two fat toddlers fighting over a toy.
My ass has so much cellulite that you may crave dairy products
My stomach is not flat
My boobs are too big
and these lights in the dressing room would make the sun jealous.
I do not even try on the clothes as I am so depressed at what I saw in the mirror, a ten person tent is all that I need to be purchasing at this point.
I leave the clothes on the hanger, but unbutton the shirt to make it look like I tried it on. Susie sunshine meets me at the entrance to the dressing room and says in her sweet little voice "how did everything work out?"
I look at her and put one hand on my hip, shifting my weight to the other foot..."well, waify wendy, if you must know....I did not even try these things on. The success of your dressing room cellulite magnification program has driven me to not only buy a Krispy Kreme franchise, but to change my name LEGALLY to Jenny Craig. I would have put on the pants but I was so busy staring at my own ASS in the reflection of your thirteen mirrors in that 1x1 dressing room that I was distracted out of my purchase. I actually want to roll you up, put you in my pocket and walk you over to the great American cookie factory and hold you at gunpoint with your inventory scanner and make you eat so many snicker doodles that we have to add a "0" to your dress size. Now if you would excuse me, I would like you to get out of the way before the ceiling fans get turned on and you blow away."
Ok, so I only THOUGHT that last part, but I wish I would have said it.
Going into my high school years, it was tough to be such an awkwardly tall girl with a bit of what my parents affectionately would call "athletic build."
"oh Sarah, you carry yourself so well."
"You look like you work out, do you swim?"
"I bet you can dunk."
The comments would come like crazy, usually relating to something of the athletic nature. I guess people feel that they have to be nice to you when you are so much bigger than them or you will kick their ass.
My fears of my self image carried me through high school. I would not go to any body's pool without wearing a t-shirt or faking a family emergency when it was time to go into the water. I usually was the "I will just work on my tan, girl. Although I was white as a ghost and my mother lathered me up with spf 300 everyday...I think my friends bought it and they left me alone.
If there was a chance we would go to the beach, I could usually sport the cute little cover up over my suit until it was time to go in the water, I would point in the opposite direction and say, "wow that is a kick ass boat" The minute they would look over their shoulder I would jump into the water like a 20 lb bass. The same trick (of course) would have to work in order to get out of the water. There was a time my friend and I were laying on the beach and she talked me into actually wearing a two piece. Three guys walked by us and smiled our way...well, her way. They all stood at the end of her towel and started to talk to her about what a great day they were having. One of the guys actually crouched down with his back to me in between our towels and spoke to her for 15 minutes. They all got up and left and I stood there like I had just witnessed Gandhi eating at McDonald's. "What the heck was that all about?" I asked her. "Thanks a lot for completely ignoring me that entire time and for introducing me to them. I swear, what the heck is wrong with me?"
She looked me up and down and I will never ever forget this as long as I live...
"well maybe if you lost some weight and did some sit ups you would get attention from guys."
That comment will forever sit with me. I was only probably 15 or 16 years old, but I might as well have it tattooed on my midsection because it is what I think of every time I see myself naked.
Bring me to present day, and I am still that insecure little girl from the beach that day.
I get into a situation where I have to take my shirt off, and I will make sure I am lying on my back so to appear to have a flat stomach. I will never walk away from a guy in my underwear because I know they are looking at my ass wondering if a stairmaster would be a good gift for Christmas this year.
The minute the clothes come off, the lights start to get dimmer.
Belt off=turn off light
shirt off=close window shades
pants off=make sure hall light is off
bra off=can't you cover up the alarm clock? It is casting a reflection on my skin
underwear off=roll up that blanket and stick it under the door, the light from the kitchen is pouring into my room.
In other words, it cannot be dark enough.
I know that someday, I will get over my horrible body image...I mean, it's only been 20 years since that comment was made to me. Any day now...I will feel better.
Until then, I will be the girl at the pool in pants and a long sleeve shirt eating snicker doodles.
