I went with my girlfriends to see Eve Ensler's "The Good Body" last night and I was a little disturbed by the content. It's about how women all over the world see their bodies. American women HATE their bodies. Women from third world countries, who are lucky enough to have enough to eat, love their bodies.
Like any woman, I've gone through body-loathing phases (from about 1978-2003). But most of the time (since Eric's birth), I just don't have the energy to worry about it. I've watched so many people I love die of terrible diseases (mostly cancer). My body is healthy and strong. My butt is big, and my stomach will always hang out. It broke my heart to see Eve Ensler, self proclaimed "Radical Feminist for 30 Years" tell the story of her hatred for her body. She's probably about a size 12. She's not a particularly large woman. I probably couldn't fit into her clothes. She wrote an entire one-woman how about hating her stomach.
Maybe it's because if I had been skinny, Saint Richard might not have fallen in love with me at first sight. And he's the best thing that could have ever happened to me. He's good, and devoted and kind, and makes me into a much better person than I ever was before he came into the picture. He likes larger blonde women, which I happen to be. Maybe it's because I am so proud of my body for making beautiful babies. It can't be part of an evil capitalist conspiracy. Look what it can do! See that boy? He came from my body. At 38 weeks pregnant right now, it feels sluggish and uncomfortable, but there is a miracle swimming around in all that extra weight.
Am I just one of those women who stops caring because she has kids? The answer is sort-of. I still put on eyeliner every work day. But I seldom check my appearance before I leave the house on a weekend. But I make time for reading good books, hot bubble baths and decadent naps.
There's still a mean old drag queen who sits on my shoulder and tells me I'm too fat. I'm not good enough. But for the most part, I'm too busy to listen to her.