Can Chicken Legs Be Beautiful?

My whole life I have been told that I am not only skinny but that I have chicken legs. Being skinny was definitely part of my identity. Often times this identity hurt me more than it ever helped me. I thought I was too skinny and that people hated me because of it. At the same time I got the message from the media that being skinny was desirable and sought after. Yet I felt I was hated because I was skinny. I was utterly confused.

Fast forward to the present (well somewhat, maybe more like college). Same confusion. I would get a lot of praise for being skinny and at the same time feel a lot of shame because I was skinny when someone else wasn’t. And then to top it all off, I even began to feel I wasn’t skinny enough because there is always someone who is skinnier or smaller than you. I didn’t understand how I could hate my body and know that others envied it all at the same time.

Today I am in a much better place. I love my body. I love my body because it is mine. I love it because it is imperfect. I love my body because it is constantly changing and adjusting. I love my body because it is beautiful. It has taken me a long time to get to the place I am at, and let’s be honest… I still have a long way to go.

Today I want to share how one thinking error I had about my body changed into a thinking truth.  My chicken legs (the ones I always thought were too skinny) were suddenly the recipient of many compliments.  At first I was completely shocked that someone would complement my legs. Really? Are you serious? Are you sure? Uh, ok. But all the compliment giver ever heard from me was a thank you. 

Lucky for me my roommate didn’t stop after that first compliment. Time and time again she would tell me how great my legs were… until finally I started to believe her. Slowly, bit by bit, I began to think maybe she isn’t just saying this, maybe there is some truth to this. While this compliment may have taken a bit more time to sink in, it is still true. 

Now, without further ado I would like to official add the following compliment to my compliment journal: You (Marietta) have great legs!

 I love my legs! 

Ten Years Ago Today...

(I really did write this post last Sunday (inspired by all the facebook status' about where they were ten years ago) but didn't get around to posting it until today, so maybe the title should be ten year and seven days ago today...)

Ten years ago today I remember waking up, getting ready, even eating breakfast with my mom without a bit of awareness of the catastrophe that was taking place on the east coast. Mom said I could take the car to school, what a treat. I got into the car and I left. I remember flipping through the radio stations trying to find a good song, after a few stations I began flipping through just hoping to find any song; I needed music on my drive to school. There was absolutely no music. None. All the stations were talking about something or other breaking news… I couldn’t really catch what they were saying. I can’t remember if I listened on my short drive to school or if I ended up turning the radio off out of frustration for not being able to find any music. Wow. I can’t believe I was that annoyed that I couldn’t find a song.

The next thing I remember is sitting down in my first hour history class. The TV was on and for the first time I began to realize what had and was taking place. As a junior in high school it is clear that I did not grasp the gravity of the situation or the long lasting consequences that would come about because of that one day.

I went from class to class, each teacher said the same thing: This is history in the making so we will watch this instead of going on with our lesson plans. As students we were somewhat thrilled we didn’t have to continue with what we often considered our mundane school work. There was also a part of me that was in complete shock of the magnitude of the attack. This was the first attack that I can remember taking place. Not just on American soil, but the first attack that I was intellectually aware enough to have some understanding of what was happening. It was scary. All of the sudden I didn’t feel safe in my own country, in my own home. All of a sudden the future was unknown and rocky. All of a sudden I understood why people are always wishing for world peace. All of a sudden my illusion of reality came crashing down as I was slapped in the face with the cold harsh reality of war.

Once school was over I do remember going home and sitting around the table with a few family members, I specifically remember my Mom there, discussing the events of the day and what this would mean for us. Our conversation turned to the signs of the last days and the second coming. That was one of the moments I realized just how close we are to the second coming. Before 9/11 I always thought I was safe, I always thought I had plenty of time, I always thought there were no real problems or concerns. And after 9/11 real life began.

It was only last year that Osama Bin Laden was caught and killed. Soldiers in Iraq have been a hot political topic for a long time. And for the first time in my life I knew soldiers who were getting killed in battle. Life was too real.

Today I am learning to cope and handle the uncertainty of life. There really are no guarantees in the game of life. Every day, every second, and every relationship needs to be appreciated and cherished because tomorrow it just may not be there anymore. I am learning to be happy even when life is scary and the unknown of the future is staring you in the face. I am learning to be flexible to change. Ask anyone, I am not very good at this. But I am practicing. And most importantly I am learning to trust in my Heavenly Father and Savior, Jesus Christ. I am learning that if I do what they say then I will have peace, then they will take care of me, and then everything (literally everything) will turn out alright in the end. And I am learning that if it isn’t alright then it isn’t the end. I am learning that my alright isn’t always Heavenly Fathers alright. And I am learning that I don’t know when the end is.

In truth I am so grateful to be living in this day and age with all of the blessings associated with this time. And I will gladly accept the challenges, struggles, and trials that come along. Because it is worth it. Ten years later I am still learning, growing, and progressing to reach my potential. And the events of 9/11, with all the suffering, pain, and destruction have helped me to get further on that journey. So while I would never wish that experience upon anyone, I am also grateful for the ways it has changed me and shaped who I am today. I am grateful that I have been able to use this experience to grow, learn, heal, and reach out to others. I am grateful that I have been able to grow closer to my Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ.

One More Step.

We know that every advertisement we see has been airbrushed and touched up. We know that even though the ad is there to advertise the product and show us what the product can do, the results we are seeing are most likely fake from digital enhancements. We know that there is really no way to get what that girl in the picture has, even if I do buy the product. And maybe I shouldn’t say we but instead I. I know these things. Do you?

When I am checking out at the grocery store and am surrounded by magazines, or when I see a commercial on TV, I am known to say something about how what we are looking at isn’t real. Those women have been digital enhanced, airbrushed, and who knows what else to present the ‘perfect’ yet unattainable picture, planting false beliefs and unrealistic expectations of what women should look like.

I don’t hold back my comments depending on who I am with, guys get it just as much as my little sister. The part that surprises me is that after I remind them that all the pictures they are looking at are fake, not real, airbrushed and digitally enhanced they will often say “really?” Or “all of them?” Or even, “No! I am sure she really looks like that.” This tells me that even though I have dived into the world of digital enhancements to learn what the truth is, not everyone has and these advertisements continue to plant the lie that what they are seeing is the expectation of what a woman should look like.

I believe becoming educated about advertising and their dirty little tricks is empowering to women. I know it helps me. It helps me when I can tell myself...she doesn’t really look like that. She does have some wrinkles and it’s OK that I have wrinkles. Wrinkles are natural. Most of the articles I read on this subject are aimed at the consumer, educating the consumer on what goes on in the advertising world. Well I think that something needs to change on the advertising end. How far can they take this manipulation of the female body before we say enough is enough?

Shine’s recent article, L’Oreal ads for Julia Roberts and Christy Turlington banned for airbrushing, explains that two different L’Oreal ads were banned by The British Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) after L’Oreal was unable to provide un-airbrushed shots. Advertising Standards Authority chief executive, Guy Parker said, “Advertisers must be able to provide appropriate material to us to demonstrate what retouching they’ve done in the even we question them, and mustn’t mislead. In this event, L’Oreal didn’t provide us with the evidence so we were left with no choice but to uphold the complaint.” Or in others words, the advertisement was banned from the UK.

Can you even imagine what it would be like if advertisers actually had to show us exactly what we would be getting from their product in their advertisements? I can’t quite picture that world yet, but I would like to see some of these advertisements getting banned in the US. One step at a time.

In the article they also discussed that the reason L’Oreal could not provide un-airbrushed pictures was because in Julia Roberts’ contract it stated that no un-airbrushed picture shots can be released. Now I have no idea who wrote this contract, maybe L’Oreal and maybe Julia Robert’s agent. Who knows? And I doubt I would be able to guess the true intent behind either party adding this statement to the contract. But I do hope that it isn’t because Julia Roberts doesn’t want to show people what she really looks like. Can you imagine? One of the most recognizable faces doesn’t want people to see who she really is? I can’t say I blame her. If I were in her shoes, and pictures could be found everywhere of me with flawless skin (still fake, but flawless none the less), I can’t say I wouldn’t want the ‘truth’ to get out, and disappoint so many people who think I really looked like that. The truth is I think Julia Roberts is beautiful, but not for her fake flawless skin. I think her smile is beautiful. I think her laugh is beautiful. And I think the way she radiates is beautiful.

Bedrooms, Stability, and Goodbyes.

Sometimes it takes losing something to realize how important that thing is in your life. And the last two months I lost a few things that I just hadn't realized their importance in my life.

First off. My room. My space. My sanity. I have come to the conclusion that having a space that you can call your own is not something that is just nice to have but is essential to your well being. For the last two months the only place that has been mine is my car. Some of you know my housing situation... let's keep it short and say not only have I had to move three times in the last three months, but if you can picture Harry Potter's under the stairs bedroom and if you can imagine two people in there for two months then you can see where I have been living. Like I said there wasn't a lot of my space, and while I was able to keep a fairly positive mood, at the end it all came crashing down. Knowing where I belong, that I belong, that I am in the right place, those things are essential. I am so thankful for my bedroom. Not a big bedroom. Not a beautiful bedroom. Just my bedroom. I realized I don't need much but I do need a bedroom. I need a place to put my things, I need privacy, I need space. I wish I could say this was the first time I had experienced this, but its not. One time my bedroom was the living room and my closet was the front closet. That was hard too. I think one of the reasons we love to come home after a vacation is because we come home to a space that is ours. I can't completely explain why it is important, but trust me it is. Your space is precious. I wonder how being married will affect this concept. Oh well I won't have to worry about that for a while.

Second: stability. This is something you don't even realize is there when it is, but as soon as it leaves it becomes the most important thing to have. I am not sure if there is more to say about that. It becomes so important I would be willing to take a job that I am overqualified for just to have stability. I would be willing to let go of something great to feel more stable, and I even bet I won't be able to feel more stable for a few weeks. Ugh. I guess it will be worth it in the long run. At least that is what I keep telling myself. I had no idea I would be willing to sacrifice so much for stability and yet I am still seeking it in so many ways.

And sometimes you say goodbye to something even when you know how good it is, even when you do realize how much it means to you. Sometimes you say goodbye to protect yourself. Is that selfish? I don't think so. I think it is important to take care of yourself. And for so long I would sacrifice myself instead of saying goodbye.

I am not exactly sure what this post is suppose to be. But like life, it is what it is.

My Compliments Journal

For some reason negativity seems to have more 'power' (I am not sure if that is really the word that I want to use, but I am going to use it) than positivity (is that a word?). According to a pretty big therapist and researcher, John Gottman, in our marital relationships we need to have 20 positive interactions for every one negative interaction on a day to day basis, and during conflict we still need 5 positives for every 1 negative. That tells me we need a lot of positives! And even though his research is reflective of marital interactions, I would daresay that it would also transfer over to our relationship or interactions with our self.

Now to be honest it isn't always hard to think or tell myself the negative things... and when I am in that mindset it is extremely hard to remember the good things about myself. Truth be known, I do want to remember those good things about myself... and how am I suppose to remember those things unless I write them down (I feel like this could be a whole other post about journal writing and remembering and stuff, but I am not headed that way). And instead of writing them down in my private journal I have decided to write them here. For one, I think they will be easier to find when I really need to remind myself what I do have going for me, and two I think it can be powerful when we can stand up and say good things about our self and do so in a humble way (I hope I do this). I hope that as you read this you think of those positive things about your self... and if you so desire tell me what they are! I would love to hear it! Seriously! I love when people have good things to say, about others yes, but especially about themselves. So here is my first post about compliments I have received.

Just a few days ago my incredible amazing wish I could be like her in so many ways roommate took me to the spa to get a facial for my birthday. I said she was amazing, didn't I? And it was all a surprise... I love surprises! Anyway, back to the story at hand. I won't lie, I was a little anxious... even though I try to be comfortable not wearing make up, I still get nervous not wearing makeup when I have breakouts (and boy do I have them... lame! I thought they went away after adolescents not started after : p). So there I was super self conscious, totally focusing on the negative, when she proceeds to tell me:

'You have the softest skin.' huh, yeah I guess, I do. I never really thought about it (I also heard this one a few days later from a random guy squished next to me on a car ride, and I really am starting to believe it).
'Your pores are so small, you can barely see them.' Oh, yeah. I forget to even think about them because I can't see them.
'You virtually have no black heads. Nice.' Oh I don't? huh, who knew. Wow that is nice.

I walked out of that facial feeling great about myself. I hope I can remember these small things that I normally don't even notice. As we left me and my roommate shared experiences and it was interesting that she was also able to share some of your strengths about her skin... the neat part was that her strengths were unique to her and mine unique to me. We are not the same, but each have something different to offer.

Well, there you go. I say bring on the positive. So tell me please, what are your strengths about your skin?

Worth More than a Number!

Growing up we never had a scale in our house… at least not that I can remember. And if we did it was only around when I was super young. Even without a scale in the home I knew how much I weighed. And I knew I got a lot of attention for being skinny. Sometimes that attention was negative… being called chicken legs as a kid never quite felt like a compliment. There was a part of me that secretly craved these comments, whether they were positive or negative, they all meant the same thing: I was thin and I was beautiful. And oh did I crave to be beautiful. Beauty meant the perfect life, it meant someone, anyone, or everyone would love me, care for me, and accept me. There was another part of me that felt guilty or bad for being skinny, as if I was doing something wrong because I was skinny and others weren’t. Whether I listened to the part of me that craved the attention or the part of me that felt like my skinniness was wrong one part remained true: being skinny was a part, if not all, of who I was. I can’t remember exactly when the good and the bad comments about how skinny I was started to diminish. But when they did I literally had an identity crisis. If I wasn’t skinny… what was I? Being skinny was who I was, it defined me, and if people didn’t look at me and see skinny what would they see? That question frightened me right to the core. What if they didn’t see anything worthwhile?

Looking back I realize this was a huge turning point in my life. It would have been so easy to resort to unhealthy habits to try and ‘stay’ skinny. I could have started a diet, or exercising excessively, or behaviors that are even more destructive. In truth all signs pointed me in that direction. And to this day I do not understand why I didn’t go that way and why other girls did. I can tell you that there is no real difference between them and me. I found other ways to cope, equally as destructive (which we won’t be diving into today, we’ll save that for another day).

There is a part of me that wonders how a scale in the home could have changed my coping behaviors. Would that increasing number of a growing girl been too much? Would it have tipped me over the edge to dieting and excessive exercise? Would my worth have been defined every day by the number on the scale? Honestly, I don’t know. And I never will know how the scale could have changed my life. It scares me to think that something could have that much control over me, and I am so grateful that it never has.

Maybe your own story is somewhat similar to mine; maybe it is exactly the opposite. No matter what your story is we all have one. To this day I still do not own a scale. And I will never own one. I refuse to play into the notion that the number on the scale attributes any significance to my self-worth.

Do you have a scale? Where is it? What does that number mean to you? What does that number give you? What does it take away from you? How does that number make you feel? How does it control you?

Throw it out! Throw the scale out! I may be skinny or I may not be skinny. But I am not defined by my body or my weight! You and I are worth more than the number on the scale!

Still not convinced? Check out these other blog posts put on by our friends at Beauty redefined!

“Weigh Less. Smile More.” How Fitness Magazines Define Healthy in Very Unhealthy Ways.

Thin Ideals and the Way We Feel.

The Lies We Buy: defining Health at Women’s Expense.

The Pity Look

I am Marietta. I live in Provo Ut. I am 25. I am almost done with my Master's in Marriage and Family Therapy. I want to get a job at Center for Change. I am trying really hard to love running. I enjoy cooking. I like to sew and scrapbook. I pretend that I am a snowboarder and I enjoy it most of the time. I love boating and want to wake board more. I love Cafe Rio. Mornings are important to me. I feel better when I exercise, eat right, and study my scriptures. When I am upset or hurt I tend to stop talking. I have long hair, and refuse to cut it shorter than my shoulders. If I am tired I don't talk much either, good luck guessing whether I am tired, upset or hurt. I love laughing. I like to eat three meals a day. I am not much of a snack eater. I eat up compliments and praise. I love to read. I love talking about relationships. I believe nothing is more important than connecting with someone else. I enjoy a clean home. I have blue eyes. I am an aggressive driver. I love sandwiches... and chips. I love trying new things. The greatest gift I can give and receive is to believe in someone. I like pearls. Karaoke terrifies me right to my core. I drive a silver Elantra. I was injured while sky diving. I am going to Hawaii in May. And I am single.

I am single.

I am single.

I am single!

Why is it that no matter what I say about myself that one always seem to come across the loudest?

Or maybe it is the "oh..." followed by the awkward silence that is the loudest?

You know what I am talking about. You meet up with some old friends, or you meet a friend of a friend, or you are surrounded by extended relatives, it doesn't really matter with whom or where, the question will always come up. It's never asked in exactly the same way, that would be far too blunt and obvious. They always try to sneak it in rather casually, and usually they succeed. The problem is not the question. I am use to it. I know it is coming. And in a culture where everything seems to revolve around families and eternal companions, trust me I am not shocked when the question leaves your mouth. Truthfully it's not the question that I dread but what follows...

"Oh."

Silence.

Awkward Silence.

Pity look.

Then one of two things happens. 1) I give in and end up explaining why I am ok with being single, how I am happy with my life, progressing, moving forward, reassuring them that 'when the time is right' (or some equally cliche phrase) I will find that special someone, I just know it. Or 2) they end up feeling the need to explain why I am ok even though I am single, that I am happy, progressing and moving forward with my life, and that I don't need anyone to be happy. Then they end by reassuring me that who ever does catch me will be one lucky guy (this could also be substituted with many other cliche phrases).

Sometimes I wonder if it would be less awkward and painful to explain to someone that I was dying from some incurable disease instead of why I am still single. I imagine the conversation would go like this:

'I have an incurable disease, I will die within the next six months.'

'Oh no! That is terrible. I am so sorry for you. That must be so difficult for you! I can't even imagine what that would be like. There must be something I can do to help you out in this horrible situation.'

Less awkward? Yes. Very much so. In truth the only difference here is that they can actually say what they are thinking. When they hear that I am single you know they want to say 'Oh no! That is terrible. I am so sorry for you. That must be so difficult for you! I can't even imagine what that would be like. There must be something I can do to help you out in this horrible situation.' How inappropriate would that be? So instead I get the awkward silence. That awkward silence that is saying, 'I have so much to say but I can't say any of it, so I will just sit here and not say anything.' They feel uncomfortable, and I am left to reassure them that I am alright after all.

Looks like in the end the incurable disease is in fact comparable to singleness. Maybe when the inevitable question comes I should be more understanding of those asking the question, I mean hearing that your friend who you love and care for has an incurable disease... I mean, is single, can be hard, it can really rock your foundation. That must be hard and uncomfortable for you. ; )