Appearance Authority

One of the most disturbing things my mother ever said to me was “You’ll never look as good as you did your freshman year of high school.”

I was completely knocked down. I was a junior in high school and one of my friends had told me I look like a Barbie Doll – in a nice way and that’s the way I took it. Maybe it was I subconsciously knew how much my mother valued her Barbie collection, or how for years she tightly wound my bangs in foam curlers to make my hair look just like one of her favorite doll, but I stupidly thought this would impress her.

Instead, she knocked me down with this one line. I remember having enough wits about me at the time that I asked “Why would you say that? Are you saying I’ll never be that beautiful again?”

She corrected me. “OAD that was a compliment. Don’t you know how to take a compliment? You were on swim team, and your hair was so highlighted and skin so tan from being in the sun. You were so skinny. Here look at this picture. See how beautiful you were?”

And she removed my swim team picture from the fridge and shoved it into my face.

There I was in my team suit, posed on the diving platform with a big happy smile. Yes that summer before freshman year had been kind to me. All summer long I had participated in synchronized swimming with my closest childhood friend. The class took place a noon in the peak of the Tucson summer. I slathered my pale body head to toe with sunscreen and surprisingly I tanned instead of turning into a lobster. Of course, all thanks to Mother who bought the obnoxiously expensive san tan lotion. My diligence in applying it did not play into the equation.

And yes, my already long blond locks were kissed with the sun. A few weeks later, I joined the high school swim team and whittled my 5’ 5” and growing frame down to a size seven and 127 pounds. Meanwhile, Mother Nature was just waving the wand of womanhood, sending my child body into transition.

In a way, Mom was right. Those events that supposedly brought upon my peak of beauty in my mother’s eyes would never happen again. Her “compliment” set an impossible bar of beauty – 127 pounds, size 7, perfectly tanned and highlighted hair.

I thought for the longest time “Well, that’s it.” And from that point on whenever someone complemented my appearance or congratulated me on loosing a few pounds I would think “Yeah – but you should have seen me when I was 14!” (Sounds completely rediculous just typing it) I always viewed my mother as the be all and end all opinion on every matter concerning me. After all, she told me “No one will love you like I love you” so that must mean her opinion meant more than that of my friends or other “outsiders.”

Any time I decided I needed to lose a few pounds, 127 was always my goal. I didn’t matter that I was now 5’ 7” and had the body of an adult woman. Nope, it was either 127 or it wasn’t good enough. I had to recover the body of my former prime. Some things were easier – I could pay lots of money to get my hair highlighted and get a spray on tan. Achieving the former weight and clothing size was a loosing battle.

Short of starving my self and living in the gym, that just isn’t going to happen. I have a love affair with food … ok scratch that … addiction to food. And even before marriage and kids, I didn’t spend every spare minute in the gym. After college I did hire a trainer and a nutritionist. I shed 25 pounds and was in better physical shape than even when I was that 14 year old “bombshell”, even if I didn’t weigh any where near 127 and only managed a size 8.

One night, I was prancing in front of the mirror and I realized something. Although my body was turning into the shape I thought I wanted (scratch that – one my mother would once again consider beautiful), I didn’t recognize myself. So much of my identity is tied up with being on the slightly pudgy side. There was something a bit off setting about seeing hip bones and muscle replacing the protective layer around my middle. I realized I had to be comfortable in my own skin, and if I was comfortable in a size 12, then that was fine.

Even though I learned that there is a comfort zone for me, that one backhanded compliment still stings 16 years later. As I go head long into my other New Year’s resolution (exercise more and eat healthier) I have been reflecting on that comment, the effect it has had on me, its nastiness, and the fact that it just plain isn’t true. The only thing I owe myself was to be the healthiest size 12 I can be.

I won’t deny it, the 14 year old girl on the verge of womanhood did look amazing! Reflecting back on other events of my life, there were many other times I felt or looked just as beautiful – or maybe even more so. I was beautiful that day my band mate told me I looked like a Barbie doll – and a year later when I went to prom with my high school sweet heart. I remember feeling so cute and confident in my tennis uniform, slamming the ball at the net during matches (much more so than that ackward, self conscious 14 year old in the swimsuit). Even though I ended up with a body I didn't recognize the summer after college, I looked and felt amazing then too.

There’s no denying that my husband thought I was beautiful the afternoon I walked down the aisle to marry him. You can just see it in that one picture we have where he is leaning far to the side, beaming, just to watch me. And hands down, the most beautiful I’ve ever felt was when I had a red turning purple, scrunched up face, with sweaty hair, in a hospital gown, bringing my son into the world.

I now know Mom was also dead wrong. As far as beauty goes I haven’t peaked. There is another component to beauty that cannot be seen in that old picture. It’s the part that comes from within. It is learning to be comfortable in my own skin and once I do that, the confidence will show on the outside. Beauty is also about being a beautiful soul, something I will work for to the day I die. I know I’m no where near my peak in that department.

Knowing one is beautiful doesn’t come from outside sources, although I must admit, external validation is mighty nice! What I am realizing is some of those compliments I received in the past were not based solely my outward appearance being pleasing. They were expressed by people close to me who valued who I was on the inside too. They got the whole picture.

And as far as outward appearance, if I just keep following my path of treating my body right, I know the best is yet to come.