when i realized my ideal body wasn't so ideal

{I've been meaning to write this post for a long while now, but I've hesitated. I don't want to divulge too much or seem ungrateful for the amazing opportunities that I've gotten. But at the end of the day, I have decided that I owe it to myself and to everyone around me to stay true to myself, especially while we're on the subject of eating disorders. I feel strongly about this subject, and given that it is rarely ever written about, at least honestly, I have decided that I will. If you don't like it, well, I suppose that's too bad. What I write is nothing less than the truth}

I have never been one to blame eating disorders on the media or magazines or Photoshop. Personally, I know that my eating disorder had little to do with my appearance and much more to do with my anxiety, fear, lack of identity, and an insatiable hunger to please others. I was scared, lonely, and lost, and so, almost inevitably, my body became the scapegoat.

but I am also not one to so easily let the media off the hook.

the media may not have caused my eating disorder, but it certainly gave it some legs; momentum, if you will. I disliked -- no, I loathed -- my body, sure, and so I had to find an "ideal," a body that I was determined to make mine. I found this body plastered all over the pages of magazines, grinning at me encouragingly from billboards. "Hey, starve for long enough and you could look like me too!"

this train of thought, of course, did not present itself without problems. I am 5'2, not 6 feet. I am pear shaped; my legs are naturally short and muscular and they, do not, unfortunately, run for days. I've always had plenty of muscle -- that's just the way my body is, and when you add years of gymnastics training to the mix, there is just no way that I could ever possibly look like a runway model, no matter how much I starve.

this summer, I interned at a popular woman's magazine. I am certainly very grateful for that opportunity; it opened my eyes and steered me in the right direction -- now, I have a clearer idea of what I want to do for the rest of my life.

nevertheless, I have to say this -- and let's make it clear: This particular magazine is far from the only culprit. In fact, it has become an industry standard, as far as I'm concerned (I've interned at other magazines, most of them wonderful and successful, and they do it too -- it's just the way it is. It's not a "bad" thing, necessarily, and I do not have any bad feelings whatsoever toward any magazine that does this. It is just more of a personal epiphany, at least for me).

a lot has been said about magazines, models, and Photoshop. But I've also witnessed something that I found much more eye-opening than a little Adobe nip-and-tuck action: I was around models every single day this summer. These models were 14 and 15 and 16 years old -- perhaps 18, if they were a little "over the hill." They were not in their 20s or 30s or 40s, like most women's magazine readers.

when I was 14, I was that skinny, too (although much shorter, of course).

and that's all I have to say about that.

the end.