I have always suspected that there are tens of thousands of women in the world who hate their bodies. Writing this blog has confirmed my belief, if not my estimate of numbers, and I want to do everything in my power to help those women embrace their gorgeous bodies.
But when conversations arise about truly changing the tide, the focus often turns to girls and young women – the generations that are just LEARNING to hate their bodies, the girls who are sensitive and malleable, the young women who may be able to not-learn or un-learn before those negative messages get ingrained. And I’ll admit that I feel less equipped to advise and help tweens and pre-teens.
Originally posted 2011-04-19 06:18:05.
OK, I’ll admit it: I daydream about getting my big break. Catching the eye of some well-placed luminary and being given the chance to spread my message everywhere they’ll let me, across media, across boundaries, all over the world. But there’s a question I’ve been asked by a few readers and acquaintances that I’m certain would surface in daytime talk shows and on-the-spot interviews, and that question always clouds my daydreams.
So I want to address that question right here, right now, regardless of whether or not my big break ever comes. And here it is:
Originally posted 2011-03-31 06:33:56.
A couple of weeks ago, reader M. dropped me a note about a body image crisis. She’d spent years and years learning to love and accept herself, and had finally reached what she considered to be a really healthy, serene, positive place. She was doing well in school, had a marvelous new boyfriend, and felt confident and on-track. But then she’d inexplicably gained some weight, and her clothes stopped fitting, and she just plummeted. She was depressed, and she was disappointed in herself for being depressed.
Originally posted 2011-11-09 06:18:37.