Wellness Weekly - guest blog

This week I am proud to offer a guest entry from a dear and cherished friend who thinks I should take a rest. When I read her words I of course wanted to offer empathy and an action plan, that is who I am and what I do, but I didn't go past the empathy.. yet . Please reflect on her words and offer your thoughts, she and I would appreciate this.
I will be back soon with my usual opinionated opining.. Until then, I do want to note that I am extremely pleased with the federal tax increase on cigarettes believing that this measure will reduce the number of teens who begin using tobacco. The tax may save the life of someone you know.

Without further ado then, the words of my friend, Lee Ann Manning.



I have body image issues. I will say, not proudly, but very humbly, that I do not suffer from bulimia or anorexia, nor am I obese, or even overweight. The last time I calculated my body mass index using one of those nifty web sites, I was well within a normal range for my height and weight.
So why am I not happy with my body? Good question. Seems like lately, I’ve found myself pondering the mixed messages about my body that come from so many places, whether medical reports, advertisements, television shows, or even web diets.
I believe it’s important to eat a healthy, varied diet, with plenty of vegetables and fruits. I’m not vegetarian, so I eat my share of chicken, seafood, pork, and yes, even red beef! (Love me a good burger!) I understand the importance of fiber, protein, and calcium, so try to include lots of those in my daily intake. I don’t overeat. (Well, not usually.) And with full confession, I will tell you that I also love chocolate, French fries, and wine. In moderation.
So if I’m not overweight, is there a problem? Most people would say “no!” That I’m healthy, not too skinny, not fat. So, why complain?
The problem is in my perception. Let’s go back a couple of years, to a time in my life when I had too much going on … one full time job, one part time job, a budding romance, volunteer commitments, and increased training for a half-marathon. There was so much going on in my life, I couldn’t seem to eat enough to keep my body nourished. Not only was I physically pushing my body beyond what it had done to that point, my mental state kept me constantly moving and worrying.
My weight, which I thought was perfect at 115 pounds, fell to 112. I loved it! I loved the skinny me. I loved wearing the skinny clothes. I loved the feeling. Until one night, I almost passed out.
I wasn’t consciously starving myself; I just had too much going on in my life to realize the impact on my body.
Soon after that night, my body began to readjust itself. I fed it more to meet the demands of the training schedule; the stress of working two jobs began to ease, and as I became more comfortable in my personal life, the constant fidgeting and worrying went away. I gained some of the weight back. Life got back to normal.
Or so I thought. About the time life got back to normal, my body went to abnormal, as in perimenopausal. (Funny, my spell check thinks the word “perimenopausal” is abnormal, as well!)
So here I was, finally finished punishing my body with long runs every week, thinking now I could go back to gentle, 5-mile runs two or three times a week, and that I would stay in shape. Or even better, since I was pretty burned out on running by this point, I thought about swimming, biking, spin classes, Zumba classes, etc. It was time to try something new.
But the problem was -- my body wasn’t responding the way it used to. Suddenly, my once (almost) svelte thighs were ungainly and, horror of horrors, had the beginnings of cellulite! Around my waist, I could see the beginnings of … oh, no … a spare tire!
To make things worse, now when I run, I have hip and knee problems. So I don’t enjoy running like I once did. I cannot run for long distances (that’s now 3-5 miles!) without taking walk breaks. And running is the ONE THING that used to help me lose weight.
My weight is now at 130 pounds. It’s been that for almost a year, so it’s not really getting worse. It’s just sitting there. I absolutely hate thinking that I weigh 130 pounds. Everyone tells me I look fine. I don’t feel like I look fine.
What exactly is “fine?” Who decides?
About the time I started having these body image issues, I saw an advertising campaign that promotes “real” beauty. The campaign includes photos of women I consider overweight, but the entire campaign is directed at helping women feel good about themselves.
So here’s part of my confusion:
I applaud programs that help girls and young women feel good about themselves; that promote healthy body images and issues. There is nothing so sad as a pre-teen starving herself so she can look like a movie star, or to help her feel that controlling her hunger is the only issue in her life over which she has control. I believe that teaching good eating habits and healthy exercise are the best ways to promote the kind of self-esteem that makes everyone feel “good in their skin,” in other words, a healthy body image.
So why am I so frustrated about my own body image? Am I being stupid when I feel like suddenly I can’t (shouldn’t/wouldn’t/don’t want to) parade my 47-year old body down the beach in a bathing suit, simply because my thighs don’t look the way I’d like them to look?
I am healthy. I eat what I want. I exercise. Maybe I just need to grow up and realize that I’m not a teenager any more, that my body is going to change, but that as long as I’m healthy, it really doesn’t matter how I look?
I don’t have the answers. I’m simply sharing the questions. Probably because I hope someone else will give me the answers.