Reader mail

I had a reader of the blog email me last week saying she needed advice about trying to lose weight. She has struggled with numerous diets in the past—not being able to stick with them and also feeling like she'll never be as skinny or attractive as her two married sisters. Since I get questions about this on a regular basis, I thought I'd share my response . . .

Dear XXX, I'm honored that you wrote to me, and I'm sorry to hear that you're struggling. I do believe that the first step to losing weight is body acceptance, which is a big part of what my blog is about. If you do not accept yourself the way you are—and like yourself the way you are—you will probably never lose weight and keep it off. So my first piece of advice is to look in the mirror and figure out what about you is most attractive. Most people have one amazing feature—be it beautiful eyes, a perfect nose, full lips, gorgeous brows, adorable ears, a sculpted jawline, or clear skin. (For me, it's my eyes, and luckily, I've always known that.) And I think when people see us, they focus on that good quality—and never see the parts of us that are average or imperfect. I have a friend who is extremely obese, and after knowing her for a year or so, she told me she thinks that when people see her, all they see is her fat. I was horrified and also knew immediately she was wrong. This is someone who is blessed with a sunny disposition and a gorgeous face. When I see her, the first thing I see is her infectious smile—she is the kind of person who lights up a room. After that, I see her adorable nose, her pretty eyes, and her flattering freckles. I never even think about the fact that she weighs more than 300 lbs. It's not even on my radar. But when I told her this, it shocked her. She thought it was the FIRST thing people saw. In truth, people see your assets first, not your flaws. So you need to look in the mirror and figure out what it is about you that makes you beautiful. You may not be as thin as your sisters—and trust me I know all about that—but you do have something that sets you apart. I know it. Once you find that thing about you that you know is attractive and start focusing on that by buying clothes or accessories that emphasize it, you'll notice people will start complimenting you about it too. You say that you're not attractive, but as soon as you decide you ARE attractive, other people will find you attractive too. Confidence is contagious, and once you have it, you will pretty easily find that people—men included—are drawn to you. After you re-gain your confidence and focus on YOUR attractive features, you can start working on losing weight. I follow a seven-step approach to losing weight that is not a diet, but a lifestyle change. Because my approach allows you to eat junk food from time to time, it's not hard to change your life this way. Incidentally, the reason you want to eat junk food every time you go on a diet is because the diet tells you not to eat junk food. Any time someone tells you not to do something, the natural response is to want to do it. That's one of the main reasons diets don't work. The other reason diets don't work—and 90% of dieters gain back the weight—is because our bodies get used to eating less, and when the diet is over and we go back to eating more, our bodies store those extra calories rather than burning them. These are the two reasons I am totally opposed to dieting. Instead of dieting, here's what I recommend on the blog: 1) Like yourself 2) Indulge from time to time 3) Play more and play often 4a) Avoid processed foods and 4b) Understand why it's hard to avoid them, so you can avoid them even more 5) Cook at home 6) Eat all day long 7) Get more sleep Also, you may want to read my manifesto and my post about how I define the word diet. You should know that though my approach will work in the long run, it is not about quick results as much as lasting ones. Honestly, it may take you five years to lose all the weight you want to lose. But it will work. Finally, remember that not everyone has the same body. You may even have a different body than your sisters who share your genes. I grew up with a rail-thin sister, and it took me years to realize my body could not possibly look like hers. But neither of our bodies are perfect. She hates that she has to wear a padded bra, and I hate that I need spanx on special occasions. Either way, no one is perfect. And no one body is perfect either. I really hope that this helps. Please check in with me and let me know how this plan works for you. I would love to hear back from you again. Good luck! Molly

Real bods in the boudoir: "What matters is how you FEEL"

My friend Alison turned me onto a story about a plus-sized woman—"Ms. N"—who wrote about her incredibly positive experience at a Seattle-based photo studio that specializes in "boudoir" photos, and I just had to write about it.

The goal of Seattle Boudoir Photography is to take alluring and provocative photos of women of all sizes.

(One of their photos is featured above, but be warned that if you decide to go to their website, not all of their photos are kid- or work-appropriate and some—especially the couples photos—are pretty R-rated.)

If you do look at their gallery, you'll see skinny women, plus-size women, curvy women, flat-chested women, tattoed women, pierced women, older women, pregnant women, women with crow's feet, women with tummies, women with generous derrieres, women with fleshy arms and legs, women with men, women with women, and more—one of my favorite photos is of a woman who is small on top wearing a wife beater that says "Sexy Little Bride."

The women in the gallery have different body shapes and different types of faces, but what these photos have in common is that all of them are absolutely stunning—and somking hot. I highly recommend that you take a look at SBP's galleries (especially "Bombshells & Babes") in order to see a great visual representation of the idea that beauty does not come in one size or shape.

Ms. N detailed her own experience at SBP for Offbeat Bride and explains, "I got to spend 2 hours with amazing people who, very honestly and sincerely, thought that I looked beautiful, and did everything they could to make sure that I knew it. And not only KNEW it, but FELT it, too. Nobody ever once looked at me and said, 'Oh, I sure wish you were thinner,' or 'Wow, those stretch marks really take away from this photo.' What I heard instead was, 'Oh, you have killer boobs!' and 'You look so hot in that pose, for real!' I could NOT believe my ears. And really, that was all it took for me to suddenly realize this: I'm freakin' HOT! It doesn't matter about size or scars or weight or anything. What matters is how you FEEL. And I have never been more amazed at how comfortable I could be with myself."

I could not have said it better myself.

In fact, "What matters is how you FEEL" would be an appropriate tagline for I Will Not Diet.

As long as I've been writing this blog, I've fantasized about posing in my underwear in order to prove that I'm happy with my bod—all 197 pounds of it—but also to show that women's bodies can look attractive at an average size, one that's more attainable than those of the models and celebrities we see in the media.

Looking at this studio's work makes me realize I'm not the first person to have this idea and that I really do have to follow through on that goal some day.

Nevertheless, I'm not going to lie—I may pose in my underwear, but I'm never going to show any boob. I'll leave that to the women who are braver—or crazier—than me.

People don't change, but that doesn't mean you can't

When you’re young, the haters let themselves be known—they toss ugly comments at you in the hallways of junior high and high school like emotional grenades—causing you to cry in the bathroom but also making them easy to identify.

At that age, you’re too immature to understand that these people are not worthy of your tears, but by the time you’re in your twenties, you realize how much time you wasted worrying about what that jackass Tad Hightower said about your pimples in fifth period Spanish class.

But as you get older, the haters become harder to spot.

Like the rest of us, they learn that certain behavior—puking in the bushes, mocking the kid with glasses in the hallway—is not acceptable for adults. At least adults who want to make it in the adult world.

Because of that, it’s easy to think that the haters die out as we age, that people mature and become more kind. That’s why people are always quick to point out that kids are cruel—as if their cruelty can be excused by their age.

The thing is I don’t believe that kids are any more cruel than adults. It’s just that the cruel adults are better at hiding their depravity. No, they can’t call the obese woman in the office a whale like they did in middle school, but they can do other, less obvious–but almost equally hurtful—things.

They can casually mention the fact that they don’t eat sweets after three in the afternoon while everyone else is noshing on the snickerdoodle cookies your best friend brought to work for your birthday. There’s nothing obviously wrong with turning down the cookies, but deep down, the comment hurts—you and everyone. And you think, “maybe I wouldn’t be ten pounds overweight if I didn’t eat sugar after three either.” And for years, you let comments like these eat away at your self-confidence, like a twenty-four-hour buffet of your soul.

But eventually you grow wiser, and you see that even though they are veiled under a screen of politeness, comments such as these are meant to wound. They’re not coincidental. They’re meant to undermine and destroy—without you even knowing that you’re being attacked.

And when you finally figure this out, it’s as if someone has just turned on all the lights in the room. You can finally see things clearly. These are the same people who beat up the boy in the glasses after school, the same ones who wrote the word “slut” on your best friend’s locker after she lost her virginity. These are the haters. Only they’re smarter now and much more sly.

And when you figure this out, you remind yourself again what you’ve known for years . . .

The haters don’t matter.

All that matters is you. And what you think of yourself. The fact that you know you look beautiful—with or with those ten pounds—and that you are intelligent and funny and a hard worker and successful and a good friend, a good person even.

And the next time the haters start to spew their venom-filled crap, you won’t even hear them because you’ll be too busy listening to your internal monologue: you are amazing, you are amazing, you are amazing, you are amazing . . .

A few years ago, almost everyone I knew from grade school and high school got on Facebook and started friending each other. Since I moved away from my hometown in high school, the experience was incredibly cathartic for me—finally, I was able to find out what happened to all of my old friends, finally I had the connection to my childhood I had lacked for so many years.

But after a few months, I noticed that one of my “friends” had unfriended me. This wasn’t someone I barely knew. This was one of my closest childhood friends—I say this despite the fact that it was also someone who hurt me on a regular basis. Still, it wasn’t something I ever said anything about when we were kids—like so many people, I just put up with the cruelty, and we remained friends as long as we knew each other. So I couldn’t figure out why she had unfriended me on Facebook and stayed “friends” with the rest of our classmates.

It was so confusing to me that I emailed another good friend from grade school and asked her opinion about it. I will never forget what she said to me.

“Molly,” she said, “People don’t change.”

She didn’t explain much more than that, but I knew what she was saying—that it may seem like people are mature, responsible adults, that it may seem like they are good people, but that deep down, a person’s character is somewhat set in stone, that someone who hurt you then will hurt you now, and that all we can do is accept that, move on, and focus on ourselves.

Better late than never

198 pounds

I've been playing tennis on Tuesday nights here in Bowling Green for a while now, and this past Tuesday I met the most adorable little eight-year-old whom I'll call India.

As fate would have it, I injured my arm while playing tennis this week and, as a result, had to forfeit my match and was sent back to the minor leagues, also known as the drill court. That's where I came across India. Her mother was playing on the drill court too, and India was sitting on the sidelines watching and running around like a young woman on a mission.

Whenever any of us got a break, India would run right up to us and start talking and asking a myriad of questions. She grilled any and all of us about things as varied as the rules of tennis to the heat index (which was 101 on Tuesday). And, in that way, she kind of reminded me of that hysterical little kid from Jerry Maguire (pictured above).

During one of my breaks, I asked India if we had met before because she seemed so familiar, and she reminded me that she had been the one attacking me with questions the first week of our tennis league earlier in the spring.

Suddenly, it came back to me. This was the precocious little kid had come up to me and said, "Hi, my name is India" as if everyone on the planet should know who she was. I took an immediate liking to her. Who doesn't love a confident, outgoing kid?

And this Tuesday was no exception—she was still full of questions about life, tennis, and everything else.

So when I was on my way home from tennis that night, I thought about how India is the kind of kid who has enough energy, confidence, and intelligence to become an extraordinary adult and to do anything.

And then it hit me.

That's what I was like as a kid.

I was constantly butting into adult conversations, completely unaware of the fact that I was supposed to be playing with my toys or hanging out with kids my own age rather than offering opinions on grown-up issues. And there were many adults who noticed that about me—friends, family members, even teachers. It wasn't unusual for someone to comment on my maturity and intelligence. In fact, people did it all the time. And they were always telling me I could do anything, which is exactly what I thought about India.

But here's the sad part.

I didn't buy it.

In fact, I'm sorry to say that it took me years—maybe thirty?—to realize that I could do anything I wanted.

And the reason I didn't buy it is even worse.

I didn't buy it because I didn't see myself as attractive. I truly believed that the people who made it, the people who succeeded, were all good-looking. And I never really saw myself as good-looking, at least not until the past few years.

So why did I make this equation between looks and success?

I think we all know the answer to that. We spend so much time worshipping beautiful people in our society and worrying about what we look like ourselves that it's easy to equate beauty with value (and this is especially true when we're young). And from there it's not hard to think that if we're not beautiful, we have no value.

I'm of course glad that I finally figured out how wrong an equation that is, but I do wish I had figured it out years earlier.

I suppose all I can do now is comfort myself with the though that it's never too late.

THE CATWALK by guest blogger Courtney Butler

I’ve been a plus-size model for local Chicago clothing designers for over a year now. I’ve gone on midnight photo shoots with nothing but a cocktail dress against the freezing cold, as well as teetering around on ice-pick heels in the Botanical Gardens.

Never in a million years did I think I would actually be a model.

Even saying it now, here, makes me uncomfortable. When I explain to strangers that I am an English tutor who does part-time modeling, I feel obligated to explain that it’s plus-size modeling, that I know I’m not skinny, that it’s not real modeling… like I have to make excuses and give explanations.

Here I am, almost 25 years old, and still struggling with issues from my childhood. So when the opportunity came to model, I seized it. I thought I’d feel different. I hoped being a model would somehow transform how I saw myself. Instead, it makes you acutely aware of your own body, how it looks on and off camera, how much make-up makes a difference, etc.

It wasn’t until my first (and only!) runway show that I started to understand these things about modeling. Not only did I discover that I wholeheartedly hate doing runway, but that I needed to reconsider modeling all together. To be a high fashion model you have to be willing to dedicate your entire life—your body, your energy, your attitude, everything, to being a model. When you’re surrounded by people backstage who are clothing you, putting bronzer on your legs, telling you what to do with your face—your body does not feel like your own. You get no say in what you wear, how you walk, what your expression is, how your hair looks.

Nothing.

You have to walk down the catwalk as someone else. You give up your physical form to the artistic whims of others. They can arbitrarily select you or reject you. I’ve been lucky enough to work with compassionate, wonderful designers, who genuinely enjoy the curvy female form. But it won’t always be that way.

Don’t get me wrong, doing photo shoots are fun. I’ve always nurtured a flair for the dramatic, and putting on a wardrobe and make-up, creating a moment that is captured on film, is wonderful to me. I’ve amassed a good amount of lovely pictures, and having those to look at on a low self-esteem day is very helpful. But it doesn’t shake that deep down, super ingrained insecurity that has plagued me since childhood.

When I was growing up, the constant comparison to my older sister always left me feeling inadequate. She was the petite Snow White who fought off the attentions of the opposite sex, and I grew awkwardly into a gangly tomboy, mostly looking all teeth, eyebrows and hips. It wasn’t until college that my body saw fit to level itself into an even—and surprisingly pleasing—playing field. But my childhood insecurities came back to me when I stepped on that runway.

It was a few weeks after the runway show when I experienced a moment that allowed me to see that modeling wasn’t worth my while.

I was walking down the sidewalk on my way home from work. The sun was high, and spring was in full riot. I was rested, feeling comfortable in my clothes and listening to a great set list on my iPod. I was in a happy place and enjoying the sunshine. Then my hips started swaying to the music, and I unconsciously began to catwalk down the sidewalk. I literally stopped traffic that day. Drivers slowed down as I walked by—several of them honking their horns and hollering out of windows. A few simply stopped their cars to watch me. I wasn’t wearing make-up or designer clothes, but people were still reacting like I was Venus incarnate. It wasn’t that I looked like a model. It was that I was simply enjoying myself.

More importantly, other people’s reactions didn’t really matter as much to me as the fact that I felt beautiful.

Since that wonderful afternoon on the sidewalk I have basically decided to stop pursuing modeling with any real vigor. I still adore the designers I’ve worked for and will continue to do photo shoots, but I don’t want to give my body away anymore. I can’t arbitrarily select or reject the only body I’ve got. I cannot base my self-worth on the opinions of others. Instead of dedicating my energy to becoming someone else’s ideal, I will continue to nurture my own talents and take better care of the body I was given.

This is, of course, an on-going struggle.

There are days I feel like I’m waging a nuclear war with my head. Overcoming body dysmorphia and eating disorders is not pretty or easy, and I’ve suffered from both. But plus-size models like Crystal Renn and actresses like Christina Hendricks are my role models. These women make me feel beautiful and continually inspire me. They carry the burden of the public eye with grace, and hopefully they will continue to usher in an era of healthy bodies.

Life is a catwalk for these gorgeous women, and it can be for all of us. Every day we walk, we can talk and wear what we think and believe. We can treat ourselves the way we think we deserve to be treated. So, why not behave like a supermodel every day? Why not swing our hips to music only we can hear and insist on the better brand of bottled water? (Okay, getting snarky about water isn’t such a great idea, but you get the idea.)

Poster, movies, advertisements… these are momentary images designed to manipulate us. The relationship we have with ourselves lasts a lifetime.

I can throw away a magazine, but I cannot throw away the woman I see every day in the mirror.

Raised in the Wild West, COURTNEY BUTLER went to college in North Carolina and graduate school in Wales and now lives in the Windy City. She is currently working as an English tutor, but hopes to go to cosmetology school and write sneaky short stories and poems about her clientele. Her poetry and thoughts can be found at The Courtrose and is hoping to make enough money writing and doing highlights that she can afford her own cat and cello.

Conquering the Apple store

199 pounds

Last year—not long after I started this blog—I visited the Apple store and wrote about that experience here in a post called "The Apple store and the art of self-loathing." In that post, I explained that every single time I go to the Apple store, I get intimidated by how hip everyone seems (even the store is a bright beacon of coolness!) and, as a result, find myself returning to my old self—the self who always feels unattractive and fat, the self who thinks I'm a monster.

Well, something happened this week.  Something good and something bad.

I'll start with the bad.

My computer died. I don't mean it crashed. I mean it completely and totally gave up the ghost. So I had to have my entire hard drive replaced. 

This meant I had to go back to the Apple store. And this is where the good news comes in. When I realized I had to go to the Apple store, I also realized that—sometime over the past year—the Apple store lost the ability to intimidate me. I no longer worried that I would be the un-cool, fat girl standing in front of the hip boys at the genius bar with my legs crossed like a nervous Nellie. In fact, I thought the opposite would happen: I'd be confident and comfortable with my self, and—better yet—they would like me because of it.

 

Just feeling this way would have been enough to make me happy, but as it turns out, it wasn't just a feeling I had. It was reality. Because when I was hanging out at the genius bar last Saturday, one of the Apple store employees actually gave me a compliment. In a very appreciative voice, he said, "you're so practical," and I knew he meant, compared to our other customers. 

This may seem like no big deal to you, but since this was a place that used to make my anxiety level soar, it was a big freaking deal to me. 

And the best part is that I know—I just know—that the only reason I received that compliment is because I believed in myself. 

As it turns out, confidence is contagious. 

Who are you calling a pig?

192 pounds

Recently I had dinner at Fido in Nashville, a wonderful little spot that I highly recommend if you’re looking for outstanding food and don’t want to spend a fortune.

At Fido—like other animal-friendly resturaunts—table numbers feature pictures of some of the employees’ favorite pets. After guests place their order at the counter, they’re handed a table number that servers use to locate them when their meals are ready.

And after I ordered fish tacos for dinner one night, I was handed a laminated card that read "MOLLY PIGG" in big red letters across the top

Molly Pigg?????

Was someone trying to tell me something?

Molly Pigg is actually the name of the adorable little beagle that was featured on my table number. She’s six years old, and apparently goes by “Piggy” or “Miss Piggy” because she has snorted like a pig since she was a puppy. As the table number explains, “Calling her a ‘pig’ seemed degrading, so her nickname has the unique spelling with two ‘G’s.”

So does that mean that if I call someone a “Pigg,” it won’t be considered degrading?

I doubt it.

But I do know this: the fact that I could laugh about the “Molly Pigg” sign sitting in the middle of my table like a beacon asking people to look at me means that I am finally becoming comfortable with who I am. And I love a Pigg for helping me see that.

What's good for the goose . . .

192 pounds

If you've seen It's Complicated, you know that Alec Baldwin appears in the film without his shirt on, sporting an extremely large stomach.

The reason his character has disrobed is so that he can seduce his ex-wife, played by Meryl Streep in the film. Unfortunately for Baldwin's character, Streep's is horrified when she returns to her bedroom only to find her ex stripped down to his birthday suit.

But what's really interesting about this scene is what happens when the characters talk about it the next day. Baldwin's character comes back to apologize, and when Streep's character asks him what he was thinking, he says, "I just thought you would find me irresistible," and he really means it.

Never mind the fact that Baldwin's stomach is a bit hippo-like. He really believes that she'll find him irresistible.

And what's crazy is that when he admits this, those of us in the audience kind of find him irresistible in that moment too. I mean, how can you not love someone who, despite his flaws, is that confident?

Of course, what we should all learn from this is that it's not the hot bod that we're attracted to, it's the attitude. Alec Baldwin is still a huge star not because he's as hot as he was in The Hunt for Red October (as pictured here) but because he believes in himself, and that's what makes him so appealing.

I'm sure you might be thinking that Baldwin, at his current size, wouldn't be able to get leading roles if he were a women, and you're right. In fact, it's incredibly frustrating to see Meryl Streep looking absolutely fabulous in this film even though Baldwin doesn't have to.

Unfortunately, that's how it goes in the movies these days, and this film makes it clear that Hollywood still has a double standard for men and women: men can look like real people, and women have to look like goddesses. (See The King of Queens, Still Standing, According to Jim, and almost any movie with Jack Nicholson for more evidence of this.)

But that doesn't mean that we can't learn something from Baldwin's character in this film. And what we can learn is that beauty is more about the way we see ourselves than the way others see us.

What this means is that the next time you decide to strip down and seduce your mate, you have to be sure to tell yourself the same thing that Baldwin's character believes himself . . . you're irresistible.