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But our
citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we
are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will
transform the body of our humiliation that it may be
conformed to the body of his glory.
Philippians 3:20-21a
This passage
has always held such promise for me. It means that I
will someday stop caring about my decidedly imperfect
body. It doesn’t mean I’ll get a perfect body by the
model-thin standard of the fashion magazines. Instead,
my skinny legs, big feet, and dozens of scars and
blemishes will be replaced by something so incredible
and pure it will defy even the best human imaginings.
Am I worthy of such a glorious transformation? As
someone whose body is a study in mixtures and mysteries,
I’m challenged and perplexed by the promise of perpetual
body satisfaction.
My body
history
My heritage is European American, African American,
and American Indian. The result of this commingling is
what some consider an indeterminable skin color and
interesting hair. It seems to represent the true nature
of the melting pot: a mass of cultures, textures, and
influences vying to retain their identities. I love my
hair and respect it, and it lets me believe I’m in
control.
My body
inventory could go on, and I earnestly try to be
thankful for every inch of muscle and skin I’ve been
blessed with. It is a struggle. To be blunt, I feel fat.
I’m sure many women and also men can relate. The last
time I was thin, I was seven. I don’t remember thinness
— what it felt like to be slim and unencumbered by a
desire to be thinner. I remember being seven — climbing
trees and dressing with glorious oblivion and abandon.
It was the early 1980s, and I had a two-piece swimsuit,
half black and half aqua. My body confidence was based
on something inside me; I had not yet learned about
finding courage from my exterior appearance.
Poor and
thin vs. rich and fat
When I focus too much on wanting to be thin, I force
myself to recall a study that appeared in a fitness
magazine that revealed that
63% percent of women would
rather be poor and have no weight to lose than be rich
but significantly overweight.
If I’m honest,
I must admit I at least understand the allure. I can
mark the age when I became aware of my size, when I
realized that it was “bad” to be taller and larger than
average for my age.
I was eight
years old, and my grandmother delighted in telling
anyone who would listen how healthy I was.
Eventually, I became aware that for her, healthy
was a polite word for chubby. Being chubby wasn’t
necessarily a bad thing, but getting too healthy
meant you had moved over into fat.
I suddenly
noticed my round cheeks and the roll of flesh pressing
against my tucked-in shirt. My school friends were
slim, pretty, and cute, not
healthy. And I was ashamed.
It saddens me
that my story is not unique. But what angers me is that
we do this to ourselves.
The
biggie-sized picture
We live in a land of such abundance that we have
forgotten that we don’t just have plenty, we have too
much. When we complain about all the wonderful things to
eat and drink, we are rarely cognizant of those for whom
even our leftovers are an unattainable luxury.
I am one of
those complainers, viewing restaurant buffets with
contempt because there are too many goodies. I forget
that for much of the world, the food I will discard at
the end of my meal is more than they will sit down to.
Body
beloved
Over the years, I have acquired stretch marks and a
sag here and there. I am pierced, inked, scarred, and
banged up in a few places. I must look at the things I
have done to my body — purposefully and
unintentionally — and love it just the same. Not because
this body is all I’ve got, but because it’s always been
with me. This body is as much a part of my story as my
words.
To hate my
body would be to hate me and my journey. I don’t. And I
can improve my body just as I can improve my mind, no
hatred required. With vigilance, I can rise above body
loathing.
As the mother
of a preschool girl, I often reflect on what I will
teach her and other young women about their bodies. In
my daughter, I see perfect skin, silky curls, and
unmarred possibility. Her body won’t stay that way. An
adventurous spirit and love of movement have already
resulted in skinned knees, cuts, and scrapes. I see
these little boo-boos and am unconcerned. She is still
beautiful. Maybe she’ll dye her hair or pierce her ears.
She will still be beautiful.
So must it be
for me. I have to see my body through the same loving
mother’s eyes, forgiving areas of blotchy skin tone and
skipping over the stretch marks. And I wonder: Maybe
what Paul is telling us in the letter to the Philippians
is that he gets it — the loathing, the self-doubt, the
pointless personal criticisms.
When I reflect
on what I wrote at the beginning of this piece
—“replaced by something that will defy even the best
human imaginings” — I realize that perhaps in Christ,
the transformation of our bodies will really be more of
a moment of clarity. Maybe we’ll realize that if we’re
happy, healthy, and caring for these bodies we’ve been
given, their glory will be revealed to us.
Tips for
hanging up your body hang-ups
1. Set an
example. Regardless of the number on the scale,
people admire women who dress for their shape and body
type, wear their hair in a style that suits them, and
apply makeup to enhance their natural attributes.
Develop your signature style and remember that the only
person who knows the number printed on the size label is
you.
2. Don’t
make assumptions. We often believe that others judge
us based on our appearance. This is somewhat true, but
we contribute to this when we feed into this assumption.
It is possible to teach others how to treat us: Enter
each situation with confidence, and you’ll earn respect.
3. Nip
negativity. Don’t give voice to concerns over those
ten pounds you want to lose, fat thighs, or wobbly
triceps. For every body part that gives you a headache,
there are likely two that you love. If you want to make
a realistic change, exercise and be proactive with your
energy!
4. Don’t
settle. Too often, we bargain and make choices
because we don’t place the right value on ourselves.
Treat your body well,
and it will reward you.
5. Teach.
When you hear girls and women bemoaning their physical
flaws, reverse the trend by saying something positive
about them.
6. Get to
know yourself. If you don’t have a full-length
mirror in your home, get one. Look at yourself in it
often. Note what cuts of clothing flatter you. Check out
the rear view often and like what you see.
7. Be
grateful. If you’ve gained ten pounds, cut your
bangs too short, or skipped your workout twice this
week, remember you’re still in the game. Every day is a
chance to get it right—a chance others may not have. It
may sound trite, but it’s true.
Spiritual
practices for March
My soul will be satisfied as
with the rich feast,
and my mouth praises you with joyful lips.
Psalm 63:5
People often make Lenten commitments related to food.
Perhaps you or someone you know decided to give up
sugar, chocolate, or caffeine during Lent. Ask yourself:
Did I do this to center my thoughts during this time of
reflection without concern for the body benefits I will
receive? Too often, we use Lent to exorcise our food
anxiety demons. We view Lent as a time to make a change.
It’s upsetting to hear that someone doesn’t have time to
stop for food or forgets to eat. This is a product of
our grab-and-go society, and we fail to remember that
food is often scarce in much of the world. To be too
busy too eat is to overlook food’s sacredness.
As a lover of a good meal accompanied by great
conversation, I consider the breaking of bread and the
fellowship of the meal always and forever holy. To
relegate the meal to a chore is to disregard this
ancient, spiritual covenant with God. Too often when we
count calories, fat, and carbs, we sacrifice taste,
quality, and satisfaction, turning the ritual of eating
into a math problem. Might this be the real reason we
rush through meals?
Women are often told that eating slowly and chewing each
bite carefully aids weight loss. However, there is a
deeper, far more spiritual reason to slow down and savor
each bite: Every meal — whether it’s a bowl of oatmeal
or a four-course dinner — is a sacred gift to be
cherished.
Take action this month
To get back on track with loving your body,
here's an idea for each week in March.
Regain your grateful relationship with food; recapture
the attitude that the meal is about sustenance and
thankfulness. It is the hope and promise of enduring
faith. As you eat, reflect on the flavor, texture, and
meaning of each bite.
Stop buying magazines that help set an unrealistic
standard for physical fitness and beauty or only reflect
the beauty of one race or ethnicity as the standard.
This includes tabloids that track the weight of female
celebrities and laud stars who lose baby weight within
weeks of giving birth.
Accept compliments. It’s hard to give a compliment, so
realize they’re usually heartfelt. The least you can do
is say, “thank you.” Avoid the urge to shrug the
compliment off as undeserved.
Find a smooth stone that fits in the palm of your hand.
Take a permanent marker and write your name in large,
beautiful letters on the front of the stone. On the back
of the stone, write at least three positive attributes
you possess. For example, you might write confident and
warm hearted. Display the rock in a place where you
spend a lot of time. You could also reflect on a woman
in your life and make her a stone that highlights her
positive attributes.
Karris Golden is a speaker, writer, and
poet who lives in Iowa with her husband and daughter.
She writes for Café and
Lutheran Woman Today
magazine.
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