My Relationship with my Body

I started writing this post in December. I was seriously gung ho about sharing this detail of my life, but then I began having second and even third thoughts. I was writing as if I had finished this battle; as if this part of my journey was already in the past. In reality, I really still struggle. This is also such an emotional part of my life that it has proved difficult to articulate. As a result, it is very long. Please either read the whole thing or do not read it at all. This is sensitive material. 

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For most of my life, my body has been my enemy. She has always stood in the way of me and true, 100%, all encompassing happiness.

I grew up in a reasonably stable home. My parents have been married for 33 years, we had a comfortable house, and four of the best brothers and sisters a kid could ask for. We certainly were not perfect, but I would not wish for any other family. My dad and mom always had my back, and made sure I knew that they thought I was great. I never once doubted their love.

(Everyone besides mom and Lucas.) 

Why is it then, that at the age of five I had already learned to hate my body? I can remember thinking I was fat when I was five years old.

 Five. 
                                                                                                                           
Why does a five year old, growing up in a non-abusive and stable home, ever ever ever think those thoughts? Does the media really hold that much power over us? Was it the history of obesity in my family? Was it that the other girls in dance class made fun of me for having my stomach poke out in my leotard?

Or is it something inherent within women to compare ourselves to others?

I am no psychologist, but I am going to hedge my bets on that last one. I would like to walk you through some important snap shots in my relationship with my body, and hope that you find a bit of yourself or perhaps some woman you know; in these stories. 

(Me age five, holding my baby brother. I already had body issues.)

 (I am on the back left. I was called fat by my fellow dancers.)

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It is the first day of Kindergarten, and I am wearing a plaid dress. I go to a public school, but I had seen my cousins wear plaid skirts to their catholic school so I also wanted to.  There is a group of popular girls, and I know that they are more beautiful than me.  I realize my hair is not sleek and smooth like the popular girls. I think I have some sort of monstrous, untamed fro. They let me in the group. We play Spice Girls, and I am always picked to be Scary Spice, because I have the “scary hair.” I hate having to be Scary Spice. I only get one scene, where I reenact when she bangs her hands on the fish tank to frighten all of the fish. That is my one moment of glory, but I am glad to be a part of the group.

Thus began the hatred of my curly hair. 

 (My first day pseudo-Catholic girl outfit) 

(How did I ever hate that hair?) 

It is 4^th grade and I have a self-appointed title of tom boy. Really, I just like to play sports any chance I get. Recess is my favorite time of the day. I even orient my attire around recess. During the fall I wear these sweet pants that have the zip off bottoms. When the teacher announces it is time, I rip off those bad boys and run out to the basketball court.  I play hard for all of recess, and I am often the last one in line to go inside. My face is always bright red. I have very pale skin and when I play sports my face turns beat red. There is this boy DJ (you will start to notice a trend here), who every girl has a crush on. I want to see him before class, so I run in from recess and douse my face with cold water over and over again to try to make the redness go away. He makes fun of my red and sweaty face. 

 This is the first time I remember being bothered by my red face and it would remain for the rest of my life. 

(The VandaVeer red face.)

(I want this dress in my life again.)

It is 5^th grade and I am in “like” with a black boy named Faylon. He is the first boy I have ever seriously liked. I mean think about every day, write notes about, dream about, get butterflies when I see him kind of like. I can still remember the day he asked me out. We are playing MASH, a game where a spiral drawn on a notebook can decided your future. I draw Faylon’s name and of course, by the rules of 5^th grade, he is now my boyfriend. We had a passionate, 5^th-grade-love relationship for about year, in which not a day went by where I did not wish I was black. 

As a 5^th grader I have decided I hate my pale skin. 

 (Fifth grade me with my mom, sister, and sister's friend. Rockin' that velvet dress)

It is 6^th grade and I am developing faster than my female classmates. I realize that I can get more attention from boys by wearing tighter clothing and low-cut tops. For the next two years, I would often wear one outfit out of the door as I say goodbye to my mother and change into different clothes when I got to school. 

(My cousin got underwear for Christmas, so we were being stupid.)

In 7^th grade I like a boy named Tyler. This is before texting, and we pass notes. Long, ridiculous notes expressing our affection. Without thought, Tyler tells me that I would be prettier if I went tanning. My dad is an electrician, and knows all-too-well how absolutely toxic tanning beds truly are. I am never allowed to tan.

For the rest of the year I avoid shorts at all costs. 

(Me with the rest of the popular girls. I thought I was so fat. Really I just had curves haha)

By 8^th grade I think that I have found confidence. I am now moderately popular. I have been going to church a lot, and Jesus has been working on me. I am now in an awkward place where I am acting like somewhat of a boy in order to be just friends with the boys. I call it being a tom-boy, when really I thought myself unworthy. 

This will have lasting effects on my self-image.

I am entering high school and I am pretty boy crazy, but I think that I am better than I once was. I suppose that was true, but I still got pretty warped when one particular sophomore calls me ugly and loud. I spend the next years agreeing with myself that if I could just lose weight things would be much better.

I never consider losing weight, as a service to my Lord. 

(Freshman me. I was so ticked that my hair had waved because of the humidity!)

I am sixteen and I have just read I Kissed Dating Goodbye. I have decided that I am not going to date in high school. This might seem noble, but the truth is that I am not really attracted to anyone in my high school. I have gained weight, but I am still healthy enough to sprint down the court with a basketball in hand. I frequently write in my journal about how hideous my weight is. 

My weight has now become my only enemy. I hate myself for it. 

(Girls State. I was so self-conscious it affected my posture. Seriously.) 

My answer for this burdening hate is to decide that I am pretty, but not anything exceptional. I will admit that I  have some pretty features. I am average, and no one that I am truly interested in will be attracted to me unless I lose weight. I know that I am pretty enough to get attention from some, but not from anyone I would want to date. This false humility is actually extending from a hatred of my physique. I am convinced this is a healthy outlook. I act like a boy, and my default is that no guys think I am attractive. I heavily emphasize my personality and cling to it as my only hope.  If I want a boyfriend, then my only hope is to lose weight.

This mindset will get me into a lot of trouble later.

(Deep into my tomboy defense mechanism.) 

It is the summer before junior year. I have become quite popular, but I have gained more weight since being in high school. Virtually no guys hit on me, and I’ve not been on any dates. I have found my worth, my success, and my happiness by shutting out thoughts of my body. “I am not attractive, and that’s okay.” My body image has been destroyed, one icy comment and one believed lie at a time. Although I have a fantastic support network that assures me I am pretty; those compliments seem to fade so quickly. The ones that stick are the ones like I received at camp during this summer....

It was at least 95 degrees on this day, and I was sweating. Everyone was, but I’ll admit I sweat more than a lot of girls. One of the boys at the camp told me I was fat and sweaty. I had so far removed my identity from my body, that I was barely fazed. I already knew I was fat. I confronted him and told him that he was lucky that I was tough, because most girls would have been devastated. I bragged about my resilience to my youth leader, chalking it up to my spiritual maturity.

I had almost completely removed my identity from anything to do with my body.

(I am in the middle in the basketball shorts and high tops.) 

A few years pass, and finally all of this comes to a peak, during what I call the “Summer of Sarah.” I have lost thirty pounds. I learn what a difference life is when you are thirty pounds lighter. Take the equivalent of a small lamp and a microwave off of your total body weight, and the world is totally different. People smile more. Men were opening doors (even outside of SBU). Two guys asked for my number at stop light. People let me cross the street easier, and when I did cross the street I certainly got some interesting greetings. 

"Heyyyyyyyyy gurrrllll."

Not going to lie, there was a part of me that wanted to flip the bird and shout, 

“HEY I LIVED IN THIS CITY THIRTY POUNDS AGO! Do you want some of THAT?!” 

I did not do that. Do not fret dear reader. I even got free food. I do not really understand the logic of that. “Hey this girl that has a decent body weight let’s give her free food!” Yeah dude, because I always wanted to meet my future husband by getting a free less-than-mediocre taco at Taco Bell? Can you smell the love? Nope that’s the horse meat and saw dust you smell. Yeah, I am still a little mad about this part of my life. I just honestly could not believe how different it was.

(Me last summer.) 

You would think all of this would have alerted me to the superficial nature of this new attention. Nope. Instead I went on date after date, with guys who had no capacity to treat me like a treasure. For so long I had been telling myself and listening to the lie that my body was not attractive. Along with that came a slew of identity issues. I did not realize my value or self worth. When these attractive or “successful,” guys started telling me I belonged in the illusive realm of the beauties, I listened with my whole heart. I began to need their attention to feel good about myself.

This self-centered, and superficial “Summer of Sarah,” wrecked me. The wind was knocked out of me, and as I picked up what was left of my heart and limped into my junior year of college; I did not feel like much of anything.  

Then it happened. I finally learned that I really am beautiful; body, mind, and soul. This has been a process that started years ago but got clouded by sin and lies. I am not sure when it happened. This has not snapped into place, picture perfect like I wish I could write. I learned it, then refused to believe it, then learned it again and refused to apply it. Honestly, there are still days when I do not trust it. Somehow those goons over the summer, the Truth of the Bible, living in Beasley, and all the words my friends and family had always said combined to make my heart finally listen to the truth. Christ made me, and He made me a masterpiece. I believe that. I really do.

If I believe that, then I must live as if I do. If Christ really did a wondrous work when He created me; then I need to treat my body in a way that proves this truth. I cannot make any more excuses, or bide time. God has been calling me to obedience this entire time, and I am so regretful that I did not listen to him long ago. I have mistreated my body. I have passed the point of enjoying food, and been irresponsible with what God has provided. I have consumed too much, more than I was ever meant to; and the effects are written all over my body. The fact that I am overweight, does not make me ugly!  It does not make me worthless, unusable, insignificant, or purposeless. However, it is a sin to abuse such a wonderful gift from God as food.

So I start this journey with you. The same journey I have begun many times, and failed to complete. However, this time it is different. I know that I am valuable and beautiful, even if I am overweight. I know that I do not look like a model, but I am stunning. I do not get a lot of attention from boys, but I have the undivided attention of Christ. So that means that this time around I am not losing weight to attract boys. I am not dropping inches to fit better into clothing. I am expressing love to my savior through obedience.

Yes there will be diet and exercise involved in this journey, but that will not be all. Over the course of the next year, I will be discovering what it means to be satisfied with food and not reliant on it. I will be overturning nearly a decade of bad habits. I will be extracting lies and implanting truth. This is going to be tough. I know that it will not be a linear journey full of only successes. I will fail sometimes, but this time around I will not stay down. I will depend on Christ. There is already victory for this in my life, I just need to walk in it.

So I ask you to share this story. Not because I want fame. I promise I do not. To admit that I have an area my life that is out of control is humiliating. I lay in my bed last night feeling very afraid. I am afraid of what people will think, and I am afraid of what they will say to me and behind my back. However, when Jesus calls I want to be known as the girl who listened. So here I am telling anyone who wants to read this, all about how I desperately need help. I need prayer. I really do. This is a stronghold in my life that just has to be dismantled.

I also know that God has not called me to this for just myself. There are women, I would argue nearly all, who struggle with finding themselves beautiful; and I want them to know that they are not alone.

If this is calling to a part of your heart, then you can also physically join me. In the next few weeks I will be posting my fitness goals and plans, and I will also be posting more about what gluttony is and why it is so destructive. However, all of that is too long for this already ridiculous post.

So there it is. I have just been more vulnerable than I can really remember ever being. I hope you enjoy this journey that I am about to take. If you are needing Biblical proof to all I have said, I promise that is coming. Stick with me as I continue to write about this. Here I go.

(You can wave goodbye to this old me. I am being made new.) 

So put away all malice and all deceit and hypocrisy and envy and all slander.  Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation— if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious,  you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.  For it stands in Scripture: “Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious, and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.” So the honor is for you who believe, but for those who do not believe,“The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone,” and “A stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense.” They stumble because they disobey the word, as they were destined to do. But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God's people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. Beloved, I urge you as sojourners and exiles to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul. Keep your conduct among the Gentiles honorable, so that when they speak against you as evildoers, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day of visitation.1 Peter  2:1-12

Much Love,
Sarah Jean