Good Enough

When it comes to how we feel about our bodies, it sometimes feels like we, as women, will never be happy. There’s always something that could be improved, from our pesky love handles that just won’t let go of the bulk to a muscle that we know is just waiting to pop out, if it weren’t covered by a layer of fat. Regardless of how hard we try or how well we eat, we always end up wishing for someone else’s body.

We’re all guilty of it: admiring someone with a ‘perfect’ body and wondering what it must be like to walk around every day looking so wonderful. We never consider, or see for that matter, the effort and pain that go into all that perfection. Maybe they spend hours each day at the gym or they have a personal trainer. Perhaps they never eat dessert, alcohol or carbs and inspect, weigh and measure every morsel of food that goes in their mouth. There’s no way to know, which is why we never really give consideration to the road leading to perfection. From where we sit, being perfect just seems to come naturally to some people.

Is there anyone who really and truly loves every part of their body? I haven’t met one yet, at least not one over the age of 5.

I often wonder what it would be like to go back to being a child again, basking in the happiness of my lack of body consciousness. Remember what that was like? You never gave consideration to how big your butt looked in jeans or whether your belly pudge was visible in your outfit. Your body was a vehicle to propel you to the other side of the playground, not something you inspected in the mirror for cellulite. It was that pure innocence, that lack of awareness that you were primarily judged by your looks, which made being a child so beautiful.

Once that great time known as puberty arrives, things quickly change from innocence to awkwardness. Your physical attributes were up for judgment and soon the thoughts about how others viewed you became painfully real. My chest wasn’t big enough (OK, maybe it was non-existent), my legs were too skinny, my hair was too crazy and my face had far too many zits. You could say I was quite the looker. Life sometimes deals us a painful hand when we don’t fit in; it’s just part of the process.

Today I look back at junior high and high school as one big, however painful, lesson. The wisdom that comes with growing older makes me realize how much time I dutifully wasted on trying to impress boys and wishing, even praying every night, that I had a bigger chest. Did I seriously think God had time to consider my chest size?

Being so self-conscious, lamenting over not having a butt and attempting to tame my crazy hair was the equivalent of treading water in the middle of the ocean. Simply trying to stay afloat, just getting by, gets us nowhere and after a while, becomes very tiring. It is truly exhausting to spend every waking hour feeling self-conscious about your body.

The adult world, in reality, isn’t all that much different than our junior high and high school tribulations. We’re still primarily judged by our looks and inspected for our flaws on a daily basis. Some of us still feel really, really awkward about our bodies. The difference is we’ve already gone through it once and we now have the maturity and quick-thinking to formulate snappy comebacks and witty one-liners to those same bullies from our playground days. Heck, even those things that you once considered to be terrible aren’t so bad once you let 10 years pass. The pair of stilts I call legs don’t look half bad these days, but the zits still don’t seem to be in vogue just yet. I’m still holding out hope, though.

Did I do anything last year?

When an old year ends and New Year begins to peek over the horizon, we can’t help but reflect back on our successes and failures throughout last year’s calendar. Personally, I am beginning to think that I really didn’t DO anything in 2008. Or, perhaps, this year just pales in comparison to all the stuff I did the year before.

In 2006 and 2007, a lot of big things happened:

I moved
I purchased a home
I got married
I got a dog
I got a new job

In 2008, I…uh, um did projects around the house? Wait, what did I do? Surely, there was some major accomplishment or accolade during those 12 months. One cannot go an entire year without doing something noteworthy, can they? Upon further inspection, I have concluded that rather than major accomplishments, I instead had small victories along the way.

I ran a half marathon, a 5K, a 10K, completed a triathlon and attended many, many weddings. I put new handles and hinges on every single cabinet door in our kitchen. I realized it takes 3 hours to put new handles and hinges on every kitchen cabinet door. I refinished and painted an entire kitchen’s worth of cabinets, painted a 400 square-foot room, mastered the art of painting stripes, became an aunt for the second time and found out a third time is soon coming.

I dropped a gym membership and purchased a treadmill and a bicycle. I gained a new boss (twice) and aided in my second (unsuccessful) levy campaign. I bought four bedrooms worth of new carpet, helped install crown molding and (successfully, after the second try) installed two overhead light fixtures all by myself. I put new doorknobs on every door in my house. I bought new countertops and a front door and screamed as water poured from the ceiling. I rolled my eyes at the hole it left that still greets me daily.

I started a new business venture and planted a vegetable garden. I mowed the lawn on my own and stained the deck. I pulled weeds, planted flowers and laid mulch. I trimmed hedges, got a nasty sunburn and painted the mailbox post, front porch and garage. I agreed to purchase a 90-lb. solid concrete bulldog wearing a football helmet. I gasped at just how much water was in the basement and shoved a lot of moldy carpet out of a really tiny window. I enjoyed destroying a bathroom with my gloved hands and a sledgehammer. I dreamed of how great it would look someday. I nearly fainted when I realized how expensive a new bathroom is. I fell deeply in love with coffee. I let the dog lay on the furniture and rushed to “tidy up” before people came over. I organized the garage, cleaned out closets and felt really, really good about it.

I turned 25 and remembered 10 years ago when 25 was old. I gained muscle, went cold turkey on eating pretzels, drank less alcohol, drank more water and grew up a little. I gave up my one Red Bull and protein bar a day habit. I forced myself to eat grapefruit and I liked it. I held babies, heard many baby announcements and considered what it might be like to have one of my own. Then, I realized how much I like to travel and do whatever I want, whenever I want (sorry, mom).

I went to Chicago, Michigan and Cincinnati. I made plans to visit Baltimore and Colorado. I realized how expensive new brakes are and how un-squeaky they sound. I realized it’s OK to only own two hand-me-down television sets, neither of which have plasma screens. I understood why no one wanted to watch a football game at our house.

I logged many miles on the road, some painful, most enjoyable. Some involved tears, others running from dogs and cars. All meant something.

I’m sure I have missed a small accomplishment or two, but I am already beginning to feel like less of a failure. Then again, there’s always 2009 to make up for lost time.