Embracing Our Imperfect "Covers"

Imagine if you walked into a bookstore or a library and every book had the same cover. The titles were different, as were the “insides,” but the books all looked the same. What would you do? I think you’d probably open the book, read a couple of paragraphs or pages or maybe you’d ask a friend if they’d read one of those books. In short, you’d take a couple of minutes to learn about what is INSIDE that book.

My friends, I think that we are all books and we’re only looking at our covers.

This is the blogpost that I don’t want to write, but my brain keeps resurrecting it and so I’m just going to throw caution to the wind and write it. Let me explain.

A couple of years ago, I made a big deal out of dropping some weight. I, regrettably, spoke as if I had found that Holy Grail of weight loss – how to lose it and keep it off. (Just like those annoying internet ads that keep showing up because once upon a time you clicked on something about losing weight.) In any case, karma’s a bitch and I’m here to announce that I’ve gained a bunch of weight back. Yep, I didn’t just fall off the wagon, I think I lit it on fire as it rolled away.

I could offer excuses that involve surgery, life transitions, stress…but I won’t. Thanks to loving food and discovering the joy of IPA beer, I’m back in bigger sizes. (No, I’m not comfortable enough to say how much I gained back, but it’s enough that I noticed. I’m sure you did too but were nice enough not to mention it.)

So, this weight gain has made me feel bad about myself. This has been a lifelong struggle for me. I have always, always, always wanted to be thinner. Growing up, my best friend was (and still is) one of the thinnest people I know. Next to her, I always felt chubby. Funny enough, I look back at photos of me then and I looked great…maybe even a little pretty. The point is, I didn’t think I looked good enough and so what I felt inside, no doubt, reflected outside.

I now have the pleasure of hanging around my 84-year old Mom…a lot. I take her photo all the time, partially because I want to capture all these moments with her and partially because I really, truly think she looks beautiful. I want her to know that. And I want to absorb that belief – that we’re ALL beautiful in the skin (a.k.a. “cover”) we’re in.

Recently, a friend of mine and I were exchanging messages. She said “I’M A SIZE 16!” It was spoken in such a way as to imply that size 16 was the most awful thing in the world. I had two thoughts – first, she’s beautiful and I never thought about what size she was, and second, why do we judge ourselves based on our size? It’s like going up a dress size is, somehow, a failure. I know I felt that way recently when I had to pack up all my smaller sized clothes and put them in the basement.

The point I’m trying to get to is that we all play a part in this feeling that our cover matters more than what’s inside. Our society is currently fixated on covers, especially women. I recently read an opinion piece congratulating Caitlyn Jenner because she’ll now be judged less on her achievements and more on how she looks. How sad is that? The multi-billion dollar weight loss industry would be nowhere if it weren’t for our overwhelming belief that if we looked better, life would be better.

Lately, I’ve been taking a lot more photos of myself and my family. To be honest, I don’t feel very comfortable looking at the photos of me. But I’m seriously trying to train myself to look at the photos and say: “Gosh, that was a fun moment,” or “Didn’t I look happy?” I have friends who are terribly critical of themselves and HATE being photographed. I think they are all beautiful.

As I get older, unfortunately, I go to more and more funerals. One thing I always love to see are the photo boards that people compile. Be honest: Have you ever looked at photo boards at a funeral and said: “Oh, Mary looks really overweight in that photo?” I seriously never have. I just take in the moment that was photographed and enjoy the story that is being told.

I recently had the opportunity to hear Glennon Doyle Melton (best known for her Momastery blog) speak. Her message is one of acceptance of who we are and NOT comparing ourselves to others. And yet, for the first few moments, in my brain, I was thinking: “Oh, she’s so thin and pretty. I wonder how she stays so thin?” I was so wrapped up in judging her cover, I wasn’t, at first, listening to what she was saying….even as she was talking about battling bulimia, addiction, depression and her hilarious take on other moms parenting AT her.

Yes, I believe in being healthy, not eating junk and working out. I do not always do those things and I don’t want the achievement or failure of meeting those goals to be the report card of my life. Imagine people at my funeral saying: “Oh, Karen was doing great for a while, and then she ate too much and drank beer. Such a waste of a life.” Are you kidding?! I want people to remember me as fun and stupid and kind and a lover of life. I truly hope that I’m so much more than my dress size.

The world is full of people judging "covers." There are entire blogs devoted to shaming people who wore something unfortunate. I imagine being a celebrity requires daily attempts at looking perfect every time you leave the house. Ugh. Can't we get over that?

On the plus side (pardon the pun), pop culture has recently been very supportive of women who are not rail-thin supermodels. Melissa McCarthy has shown us that women can be big AND beautiful and VERY talented. How great is that? 

So, here’s my idea for how we can all embrace our covers. As you go out today, you’ll probably notice people of all shapes and sizes. Perhaps they’re saying something funny or wearing cute shoes or have cool glasses on or just seem awesome. Compliment them or strike up a conversation…even if you don’t know them. Have you ever received a compliment from a total stranger? Doesn’t it have tremendous power to just make your day?

We need to love ourselves more and better. Our kids, especially our daughters are watching us to see how we embrace our imperfect selves. I feel like we owe it to them and to US to love every bit of us.

Sad Alert

It wasn't giving up driving or moving out of her house. It wasn't needing a cane. It wasn't writing her will. It wasn't living in an assisted-living environment. It wasn't requiring a walker. It wasn't turning 82 or 83 or 84.

No, what finally made my Mom sad was finding out that she'd be getting a Life Alert bracelet. A few falls that, thankfully, didn't hurt her, made us worried enough about the times when she might fall and not be near the pull cords in her apartment. My concern was hearing that she fell and nobody found her until the next time her medication was dispensed, which could be hours.

But this sadness really took her, and me, by surprise. She's been so flexible, SO resilient. I came to believe that she was our own family's Weeble. (Remember Weebles - they wobble but they don't fall down?) I forgot to remember that she doesn't want to be old any more than any of us do.

"It just makes me realize that I am old and that eventually I'll die. It's one of those thoughts that you ignore most of the time...and then something like this (the Life Alert bracelet) forces you to face it," said Mom.

I get it. Being my Mom's primary "caretaker" (and I use that term loosely because she mostly cares for herself), I sometimes tend to get bossy and patronizing and, well, kinda parental about things. Let's be honest - roles have reversed. I have to remind her to do things, to wear different things, to be careful, to call with anything she needs. Sometimes, I admit, I've gotten crabby. I've admonished her about over-worrying about any number of things. Like an old married couple, we annoy each other from time to time.

But now, my heart breaks a little, because I understand why she feels sad and this is one of those things that I can't just dismiss. She's right. She's getting older...and little by little, things are aging. I tend to brush away comments she makes but I see little changes. I can't protect her from these, which hurts. Sounds like parenting, doesn't it? Sometimes we can't protect our kids from the things that hurt the most.

In the meantime, she's mentioned that she talks to other residents where she lives. Some have Life Alerts and won't use them. Others have them and have no need. I can only hope that friendship and time will help her adjust to her new "companion." It's the best I can do.