Confronting the ridiculous and accepting the real.

Ok, everyone is talking about this and therefore I must weigh in. Because the collective cacophony of EVERYONE is clearly not enough.

Ok, I have to admit that when I flipped through my monthly Glamour and came across this picture, my very first (and totally superficial) reaction was holy shit, this post-baby pooch won't ever go away, will it? My second reaction was genuine surprise that a glossy ran this picture.

Clearly, Lizzie Miller is a beautiful and very sexy woman. Also clearly, her body does not represent the perfection we've become used to.

This whole confusingly controversial episode has made one thing very clear to me: I (and probably WE ALL) have body image issues. Despite the fact that I once again wear 4s and 6s, I still feel disgustingly far off from the public image we've all grown to accept as the ideal. Lizzie Miller here wears a size 12. That's 3-4 sizes larger than me. Yet, in my own head, I'm certain she looks better naked than I do. She's in a magazine, after all.

I don't think my own self image is all that far off from the average woman. So my question is this: what in the fuck is wrong with us? And how did we let the fashion industry work this number on all of our brains? And why do we continue to stand for it?

I say it's well past time that we all issue a collective fuck you and your freakishly flat stomachs and insist on accepting what is completely normal and healthy. Women have children. Subsequently, we no longer resemble 15 year olds. And we shouldn't. We can remain beautiful. And men aren't lying. It's only us that cling to this ridiculously pre-pubescent ideal.

So, stop. I'm going to try.