Dear Young Woman:

oh dear

You are so beautiful. You are young, shiny – filled with collagen and elastin and other things that make me envious. You have a future, a spark, and more opportunity than any generation of women in the history of everything. You’re really the first girls ever for whom just about anything is truly possible. You can go to the moon, you can stay home and raise a house full of kids,  you can do both.. it’s up to you.

So while I am sure you are going after those things, planning them and making goals and figuring out your path, I have a couple of questions for you. Don’t take these the wrong way (as if I know what the right way is)… I don’t want to offend you or sound as old as I’m sure I do, but I don’t get it.

Why do you dance like that? Like a stripper… you know what I mean. Dancing, all by itself, is just so naturally sexy and free and open, who told you you had to do a lap dance on the floor? When you go up on the dance floor with your friends, why do you all look like you’re auditioning for a porn flick or a strip club? Seriously, I’m not trying to be an old bitch but the front row is usually expected to come armed with small bills for that kind of performance, and there’s generally a cover charge.

Those pictures of you on Facebook and Instagram … the sexy booty pics in the bathroom, you know the ones – you in your bikini or little tank top sulking and making duck lips with the toilet in the background. What’s that about? Or the drunk ones..the ones with your hands on your best friend’s boobs and your tongues touching. Why? Are you gay? Are you experimenting with your sexuality and want to showcase it to the world? Or are you really just trying to look hot, ’cause guys think girls making out is really hot? If you’re coming out via Facebook pics, power to you. If you’re trying to look hot… seriously, why?

I think sex is great. I think being sexy and celebrating your sexuality is great. I don’t want to shame you or blame you or tell you you can’t go out of the house dressed like THAT, young lady!  I just don’t understand who it’s for, all those moves and those pictures, and all that.  Does that stuff make you feel empowered? Maybe owning your sexuality in that way makes you feel strong, in charge. If that’s why, that makes sense to me somehow. But is it really that, or is it just because that’s the crap that’s been poured into your brain by Much Music, by all the ho’s and biotches in the games, videos and movies you’ve seen.  I worry “that’s what sexy looks like” to you and presumably, the guys.   I’m more afraid you’ve been convinced it’s how you’ve got to look rather than out of a sense of freedom and control.

When I was a little girl, my influences were pretty tame; Barbie, Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball, Cher.  You girls catapulted straight from Barbies to Britney, Bitch. The world changed shape around the time you were all what…. 13, 14?  Suddenly everybody was texting, Facebook was a thing,  and before the world knew what had happened, we were underwater.  Everything shifted shape.

I guess I’d like to know why… honestly. I guess I’d like to believe that, if any part of my concern or questions ring true to you, you might think about that. I would love it if, the next time you run out onto the dance floor with a bunch of friends you dance for the joy of moving your body to music you love… to HELL with whoever might be hooting from the cheap seats.

I think you’re beautiful when you dance like a regular person. I think your photos are gorgeous when you laugh and look like a dork in them. I celebrate your normal, beautiful, sexy self.

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I’m a size 10. So I’m gross?

body_ls

I grew up as a dancer… ballet, tap, jazz, non stop competetive dance from the age of 5 until I finished high school, having won the top prize in my Provincial competition… best of the bunch. I battled my body all through my teens… fingers poked at my “midriff bulge”, fingernails dug into my derriere and told to LIFT IT! LOSE IT! PULL IT IN! SUCK IT IN! My years as a young woman were rife with negative body messages, blatant and more oblique…as a dancer, there’s no such thing as too skinny. Predictably, I succumbed to the pressure. I stopped eating. Everyone around me feigned shock and horror, but I shrunk and I won the BIG prize, so the dismay was muted. Once I’d won, I started eating again and everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief. It wasn’t a PROBLEM I had, it was a SOLUTION… I’d lost the few extra pounds I carried and clearly it had all been worth it…, no?

I stepped away from dance for about 10 years and, strange truth, I got slimmer. I stopped obsessing over my weight, found a man, got slim. Got REALLY slim.  When I got married, my nearly 5’6″ frame carried only 118 pounds, barely a size 2. I wasn’t dieting, wasn’t sick, wasn’t trying to be slim. I ate chocolate, candy, chips, pancakes, you name it. I also smoked… that did it for me. When the babies started coming, I got slimmer and slimmer. With each baby, my feet got bigger and my boobs got bigger… otherwise I shrank almost immediately to the size I’d been before birth. Then I’d get smaller. I had 3 babies in 4 years, nursed each one. I smoked (I will forever be ashamed of this) during my pregnancies…yes, I cut WAAAAAAY  back to a few a day, but still. I then carried, chased, ran after, held, rocked, fed and cajoled those three babies while blessed with a hyper drive metabolism.  I also taught dance… up to 14 classes a week of jazz and tap. That burns a lot of calories.

Then I turned 35. I took a desk job, and thankfully I quit smoking at last. My metabolism did an about face and I began to gain weight. I now struggle to maintain what I feel is a healthy weight.

I don’t have a thigh gap. In fact I didn’t even know what that was until a few months ago. I have a bit of a pooch.  I need an actual bra, with cups and a bit of underwire. I have birthed 3 children, and there is evidence of that in various body parts. I’m also 46… there’s no escaping that though I’m no stranger to Dr. Botox.  I ride my bicycle when it’s warm, run, work out (not religiously), and salsa dance. Even so, I cringe when I step on the scale, cry when I can’t fit something that I want to wear, and have learned to despise shopping for pants, skirts and dresses. I’m okay with tops… so long as they are all big, baggy, hide my flab and don’t strangle my (apparently) freakishly large upper arms.

And I hate my body. I hate that I am no longer a size 2, 4, 6 or even 8. I hate that I get the “full body check tsk tsk” from the hyper cool gay sales guy at Le Chateau. I hate knowing that I am teetering on the very brink of “plus size”. Me. Hot, beautiful, strong, fashionable, powerful ME. Plus size. Scared. Horrified by my own body. How can I overcome this? How do WE, as women, overcome this?  I can cover it well with nice clothes and good shoes, but don’t expect to see me in anything clingy. Ever.

Mike Jeffries, in a 2006 interview which was made enormously public this week has declared that his brand, Abercrombie and Fitch will not carry XL. In fact the largest size they carry is 10. My size. MY SIZE. Anything larger than me is plus size and has no place in the fashionable universe. No. Nononononono.

I resent the idea that a woman of my size (average) and weight (absolutely dead average) is a plus sized woman. Who decided that?  What does that tell my daughters? I have two gorgeous, stunning daughters who are each within 15 pounds of my weight. They both hate their bodies, both think they are fat. I accept my culpability in that… how could they grow up with me and my warped body image without absorbing some self hatred at least by osmosis?

I have a couple of links for you today. One is a remarkable video curated by Dylan Lambi-Raine, Kayla Hatzel and Sarah Zelinski; 3 classmates in the Gender Studies program at the University of Saskatchewan. This video shows objectification of women… AND of men, in stereotypical roles and demeaning and degrading poses. Oddly the reflected version, images of men being objectified, is no less disturbing.

http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/saskatchewan/story/2013/05/08/saskatoon-viral-video-university-of-saskatchewan.html

An interesting bit of history: the 2006 Salon article featuring Mike Jeffries in full dreadful flight:

http://www.salon.com/2006/01/24/jeffries/  It’s just a big old trash bag full of political incorrectness and awful misogyny.

So Mike Jeffries, go away. The cool kids don’t like you. Voice in my head? Get lost. Please? The truth is I’m actually pretty gorgeous, at least that’s what I’m going to keep telling myself. Every single day.