The Human Body is Beautiful
She often laments about the way in which people perceive a human based on their body size.
She saw her reflection in a picture she recently took, and she didn’t like what she saw. She asked her husband, “Does my body offend you?” What ever the word you use— and there are many: curvy, chunky, heavyset, big-boned, thickset, bulky, and brawny, just to name a few— all come with their own baggage.
Everyone longs to be loved, cared for, part of a community, and accepted. The lovely woman described above deserves and desires those very things.
Last Friday, my partner taught a micro gardening class. After the class he served a light lunch. I watched as each person ate the lovely lunch and what they each ate. A lively discussion ensued. This often happens when people find out that I am a sex therapist. Most people tell my partner, “Wow! you must really be lucky!” My partner typically replies, “Yes, I am. I have learned two very important phrases: thank you and I am so sorry.” As the conversation continued we happened upon body image. There were four of us present: one average-sized male, one small woman, one (self described) fat girl, and one (also self described) curvy woman.
We talked about how the way one’s body looks gives rise to a number of assumptions. As an ardent observer, I watched what everyone ate. As I did, I noticed that we all ate about the same amount. No one over-consumed. So, how is it that we are all different sizes? The answer: ”genetics”. I was raised very Southern; my friend Mexican; my partner a white male; and our petite friend did not identify herself. I was raised to finish my food: there was a starving kid somewhere who would be pleased to eat my carrots. My Mexican friend was raised that eating all you were severed was a sign that it was great meal. For us, meals were bonding experiences.
Our petite friend brought up a very interesting and true point. If she were to go around the break room at work and ask for a snack, she would be perceived as cute and we need to get her food to keep her alive. While if my Mexican friend— the self-identified fat girl— looked for snacks, she would be perceived quite differently. My brain was so appalled that I can’t even remember what she said she would be perceived as. Leave it to say it wasn’t positive. What about the size or shape of our bodies make us more or less valuable?
If you look at my blood panel and my partner’s, you would think that someone had switched them. My blood test make me look like the paragon of health, while my partner’s body looks like he is the paragon of health. Looks are often deceiving.
As I sat chatting with these friends, it became even more clear that what I was drawn to about them had nothing to do with their shells. It had everything to do with the human inside. In the documentary “The Principle of Pleasure”, Emily Nagoski challenges us to stand in front of the mirror and find something we like about our bodies. Then do it again. And do it again. And yet again. This is an interesting idea. Can we succeed in looking for things to like?
As we continued our discussion on body image, I thought about the scene in the new Hotel Transylvania movie where Drac and Johnny are on the quest to find the secret crystal. They stop and camp for the night and roast marshmallows over the campfire. Johnny offers one to Drac who declines solely based on the marshmallow’s burnt, outward appearance. Yet once Johnny cracks open the marshmallow exposing the creamy sweet middle, Drac can’t get enough of them.
Humans are much like the burnt marshmallow: deceptive on the outside and sweet and lovely on the inside. What if we saw people and ourselves for who we were on the inside? Could we appreciate the majesty that is the human body in all its various forms? In the words of a renowned Denver cardiologist, the “Human body is beautiful”.
Let’s look at the inside as well.
