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Sandra Stephens's avatar

I spent one third of my life anorexic, and so am something of an expert in this disappointment you share. Being thin was not enough, so I went for skinny. Skinny wasn't enough so I went for emaciated. Having achieved that, I went for audible gasps when I walked faux-nonchalantly on the beach in a bikini. I went for, will need a feeding tube if she goes any lower.

I stopped with the visibly disordered eating in my 20s. My weight climbed to normal range, and I lost my gall bladder, but not my secret focus on staying in a pants size 2-4. I preferred 0 (all the while my soul crying out How can there be a size 0, there could never be a size 0 for men, help me, world, help women, free us!). In my 40s I finally decided, enough. I was disgusted with how much mental space, how much time in my life was devoted to a body that, face it, most people never gave much thought to, no matter how much I tried to tell myself differently. If you put on 40 pounds some people might be unkind but very likely not the people who love you - they'll still love you, because you are not your weight. I found a therapist and I set out on the long strange journey of learning to love myself -I mean, really love myself, not just pretend to accept and like myself, smiling opaquely (is that a word) into the camera.

And now I do. Just in time for menopause to change my body yet again, but now I'm zen. I lift weights so my bones won't snap like twigs if I trip and fall. I do yoga so I don't trip and fall. I run, sometimes still passably fast. I have thoughts about my weight and my no longer 27" waist but I let them pass, like a bad smell. Weight is no longer the goal, self-acceptance is the goal. I think I've achieved it because while I have most definitely reached the age of "invisibility" (which by the way has far more benefits than drawbacks) when I look in the mirror, I see a beautiful woman looking back at me, a woman who knows that beauty is the least of my gifts that I offer the world.

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Giles's avatar

I don't know what you're talking about. 24 hours on from finally fixing the wobble on the children's bathroom bog roll holder, I still feel like THE KING OF THE WORLD.

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