Beauty is not defined by your pants

I have lived my whole life feeling imperfect. It started when I was in 5th grade. It didn't matter what clothes I wore, I never felt like the other girls; I never felt pretty. I'd beg my mom to take me to Limited Too; certain that I just needed to wear the cool clothes. I'd sift through the magazines and fall in love with what I saw. My love for fashion started young. However, I never got to wear any of those clothes. I'd go into the store, pull item upon item and none of it would fit. I wore a children's size 14 or 16 while my friends wore a size 10. I would watch TV during summer break and fall in love with Mary Kate and Ashley's clothes - certain I could find the same for when school started in the fall - but I never did. Nothing fit like it was "supposed to." I'd get frustrated and I'd cry in the dressing room while the door was shut so my sister and mom couldn't see.

My sister would have friends over and they would model their clothes for school. I'd try to participate but quickly stopped. I didn't look like they did; I had small breasts, I was short, and a little chubby. 

Don't be fooled, I was a very active kid. I road my bike, roller bladed, played outside, played on a basketball team, and took a dance class. It didn't matter; I was always a little chubby. 

I remember one moment very distinctly as a kid. I was hungry and eating a snack and someone asked me why I was eating if I was fat. I don't think I've ever felt that low in my entire life, and I was only 10 years old. A little question that carried so much hurt and so much implication. The very idea that because I was chubby, I shouldn't eat. That it was that simple. 

That's the type of society we live in now days. I wish someone had just told me that my body was different. I would never be tall and thin and I'd never have big breasts - but I was special and I was me - and that was ok. Instead, I've tried my whole life to be something that I'm not. 

I grew out of my "chubby days" but I still never felt adequate. To make things worse, I ended up going to Ole Miss - home of the countries most beautiful girls. Talk about feeling inadequate. I was surrounded by women who woke up more beautiful that I could be if I spent hours working at it. Tall, tan, long haired, cute nosed, big boobed girls - because that's what's pretty right? 

Like most college students, I gained the freshman 15, but it was so much more prevalent when you're 5'2'' and surrounded by women who look like goddesses. It didn't matter that I had a boyfriend, I still felt bad about myself. . 

I decided it was time to lose weight again and be healthy - to be honest I really did need to loose at least 10 pounds. I started running and eating healthy and I eventually lost close to 30 pounds; a lot more than I had gained. 

The weight loss stopped there, but something else started. I became obsessed with everything I ate, every single calorie. Missing a work out or eating 100 calories more than I wanted to would cause serious anxiety. I was measuring every meal. I measured slices of turkey to make sure I only ate an exact serving size. Going out to dinner caused me extreme anxiety; I would look at the online menus before I went to pick out what I would eat.

But I saw results in my controlled eating. I was a size 0 in pants and an XS in tops and everything I tried on in stores fit. I was barely eating and the clothes fit me. Because I was thin, I felt pretty. And because I felt pretty, I felt happy.

Forget that all I thought about all day long was food - what I had eaten, what I was going to eat. Sometimes in class I would write down all my calories and calculate my intake. Today, I can tell you how many calories are in pretty much any food. 

I eventually realized there was a problem, and I made a conscious effort to stop obsessing over my calories. But it wasn't that easy. 

It got easier when I graduated and moved back to Atlanta. I started a new job and felt more in my element. I was surrounded by older women who were successful and beautiful - they were strong in their identities that didn't surround around their weight. We'd eat lunch together and I finally realized it was ok to eat. It was ok to eat a normal portion of food until I was full. And then eat again when I got hungry. I didn't need to count my calories; I just needed to listen to my body.

I was allowed to be hungry and I was allowed to eat. 

Today we live in a society where clothing stores offer a woman's pant size that is comparable to a children's size. There is something wrong with that. We as society make it acceptable for woman to starve themselves when we make clothing that is catered to only fit thin women. We make it ok to not eat when the clothing fits you better that way. We fill magazines with manipulated pictures of women who are made to look like they weigh nothing. This not only gives us bad self-esteem but it gives a false image of what beauty really is. 

I hate that one day my daughter might define beauty as fitting into clothes that were never made in her favor. I am sad that she might cry or feel less worthy because she wants to lose 5 pounds. I am terrified that she will feel less beautiful because of the size on the tag inside her pants.  

Beauty is more than your pant size.

Women today live in a world full of pressure. Don't we deserve to eat a bowl of ice cream and not feel guilty about it later? 

Now days I'm still a runner and I've started eating more. My old pants don't fit me, but I'm learning to be ok with that.