The Problem with the "You're Perfect" Trend

I recently viewed another video/article about our society’s unfair expectations for women’s bodies. You know the drill - skinny, photoshopped, unblemished, fake. No woman looks like this in real life. Please stop trying to look like them, etc., etc., etc.

There is nothing inherently wrong with this. And yet, I can’t help but think that even in this “you are perfect just the way you are” campaign, we have still missed the point entirely. Because while promoting individuality and the unique shape and design of every woman is a good thing, it isn’t the whole picture.

Perhaps my point is better explained by telling my own story.

I am a small person. Height-wise, weight-wise, etc. This means that my number on the scale has always been below that fabled 125 (seriously, where did that come from?) and my clothes were always the smaller sizes on the rack. In high school, I didn’t think I cared. I had always been that size, I assumed I always would be, and if not, well big deal. In my head I knew weight wasn’t really that important. I rolled my eyes when friends bemoaned their weight. “Why does it matter? Being skinny isn’t everything.”

And then I got pregnant.

I was only 19. I was still young. I was barely married. I wanted to enjoy the way I looked for a while. But the course was set now. Like it or not, exercise or not, eat healthy or not, I was gaining 40 pounds in the next 9 months. And 40 pounds it was (at least). I remember purposely not thinking about it when the scale tipped over 150 at the clinic. Again, some women would mock me for thinking 150 was a high number. But I was always small, remember? And let’s be real, we’re always the perfectionist about our own size, doesn’t matter if that’s knowing you should wear a medium instead of a large or if the tag on the back says 10 instead of 8.

In addition to the weight, I gained the beloved stretch marks. My once perfect belly button was now blue and purple around the edges. My butt didn’t escape either.

And even without the physical marks, having people stop in the grocery store to specifically comment on how large and uncomfortable I looked was embarrassing and awkward.

I was 19 and receiving those comments.

When I delivered my first at 20, I snapped back incredibly. And yes, it felt good to have so many people comment on it. After the aforementioned grocery store comments, having people oo and aa over my again-svelte body was gratifying.

I started working out. I started thinking about what I was eating. I was thin again, but I knew what it was like to not be that size. Instead of taking my weight for granted, I began treating my body to better health. Even though my post-baby size didn’t change much, I felt better.

I was now glad for pregnancy because it had changed my perspective on those people who complained about weight gain, and it changed my motivation from skinny to healthy.

Or so I thought.

Second full-term pregnancy wasn’t a challenge. I was actually smaller than first time around, I anticipated snapping back quickly, no big deal. I knew this was temporary. I wasn’t scared by weight gain the way I had been the first time.

But the second round left me with a herniated belly button. Weird looking and awful feeling. This wasn’t just aesthetic, this was painful.

And somehow taking the weight off a second time was less enjoyable. (Sigh. Here we go again.)

By the age of 23 I had birthed two babies, taken the weight off both times, and was back into my “skinny” clothes again. Still exercising. Still making slow changes to the food I put in my body.

And then I got pregnant again.

Let me amend. I am pregnant again.

And I’m going through the body image question again. Why does this matter to me? Why is it so painful to put away my cute new “skinny me” jeans only 3 months after I bought them? Why is it so depressing to think that after this baby is here and I take the weight off (AGAIN) I will have collectively gained and lost more than my entire body weight in under 5 years?

I’m beginning to realize, it might be because I’m still focused more on my body than I am on what truly matters. May I go so far as to say I am still more focused on myself than on what truly matters.

This is where I find the flaw with the “you’re perfect just the way you are” emerging philosophy: it still focuses only on ourselves. Which is to be expected coming from a secular worldview concerned only with our personal comfort and gratification. I mean really, isn’t that the bottom line? If I feel good about myself just the way I am, then… well… I feel good about myself.

But is that the point?

For myself, I am possibly (finally!) coming to the realization that I should not view my body as perfect just the way it is. Because it’s not. It’s flawed. It’s stretched. It’s scarred. It’s a little broken, a little beat up. And telling myself it’s “perfect” is just a big fat lie that only lasts until I see someone skinnier or buffer or tanner or boob-ier or whatever-er.

Instead, I need to start seeing my body for what it truthfully is: useful.

It’s a temporary loan anyway. It’s not going to last. It’s going to get old. It will develop wrinkles and saggy skin and gray hair regardless of whether I have children. Eventually it will die. Nothing perfect about that. Because perfection isn’t to be gained this side of heaven. My perfect body is waiting for me. Oh, glory, hallelujah, how pregnancy makes me look forward to it!

In the mean time, I might as well make use of it while I have it. I’ve helped bring three eternal souls into existence, and am working on a fourth. I think that’s pretty useful.

I don’t mean to insinuate that women who cannot or do not have children are not useful to God, or that people with physical handicaps are not useful. I am simply coming to grips with my own situation and how I can use my temporary shell to accomplish work for Christ. Each of our bodies is simply a container for our souls, and however we use them to carry out that mission, may we focus more on the reason than the container.

I think C.S. Lewis put it best: “You do not have a soul, you are a soul and you have a body.”

What freedom there is in that revelation. What freedom there is in no longer wasting energy trying to placate my vain nature. What freedom in finding a purpose instead of a patch.

A Penny for Your Heart

Words have become cheap.

I don't mean that words are cheap. They are incredibly powerful and costly. I mean that, in our current age of technology and information overload, words have become cheap. All you have to do is scroll through a news feed to be accosted by the opinion, insight, or musing of everyone you know, everyone you want to know, everyone you think you know, and their closest twelve relatives. It gets to a point where hearing an honest thought has almost become repulsive to me because everyone seems to pass them out without a thought of who they may affect.

And they do affect others. Our casual, off-the-cuff remarks can have a deep and lasting impact, possibly on those we don't even know.

Proverbs states "from the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks." Essentially, we now have multiple platforms on which we can spill our hearts. But have we filtered our hearts? Have we considered what motive caused us to say what we did?

Or, perhaps more importantly, have we considered how vulnerable we make ourselves when we lay bare our words to the general public? That's your heart out there. Are you sure that's where you want it to be?

And so, in adding to the overflow of soul-baring information that has been made so readily accessible, the title for this blog: A Penny for Your Heart.