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[ Saturday, March 27, 2004 ]

 

Body Image

While baking chocolate chip cookies for breakfast this morning, I looked up to see my Dad staring at me with his eyebrows raised. When I proceeded to eat a chocolate chip, he asked, "Choco-bean, how old are you again?" "Twenty," I answered, thinking it would stop him from making any comments meant for five year olds. He turned to my mom and said, "By the time she's twenty-one, she'll be double her size." I lifted my head proudly, stuck my chin out, and licked the whole spoon of cookie dough just for good measure.

I'm really not as uptight as I used to be, and I take a lot of things in stride. I know it was meant as a joke, and at the time I took it as such. But constant comments like that build up. I know my dad sometimes makes comments like that to me, but in reality he's directing them towards my mom, who just ignores them. I'm supposed to know better, and not take it to heart. It's really callous of me, but sometimes I look at my mother and mentally wince, reminding myself to never let myself go like that. I know that I weigh less than anyone in my family. I know that I can get away with eating the amount of chocolate I do...at least until I get older and have to really start exercising. I know in my head that I'm not fat, but my heart often tells me otherwise. I know that the media's portrayal of the "perfect" body is bogus, especially since most of those photos are touched up, but as much as I do know better, I'm not immune to them. I've watched my middle school friends succumb to anorexia and bulemia. And while I've never been close to being hospitalized, I have definitely been affected by their poor self-images.

People often comment about how tiny I am, how short I am, how much I need to eat, and how much I need to gain weight. I always wish that I can donate blood, but I'm a far cry from the 110 pound limit. Still, a tiny part of me congradulates myself on not reaching that limit. Sometimes I look in the mirror and notice that I'm starting to get a small stomach. While others don't notice a thing, I feel disgusted. I berate myself when the weigh scale tells me that I've gained half a pound, and I weigh myself over and over again just to make sure it hasn't made a mistake. Or I groan when my pants are loose at the waiste and tight at the hips. Still, I don't change my eating habits. I guess that's an improvement. But I don't work out either, which is not so good.

I may seem like a self-confident, strong muhajjabah, but I'm not. I wonder how long it takes...whether it ever really goes away.

From Riyadh-Us-Salheen Vol.1,# 7
Narrated Abu Huraira (RA) that the Holy Prophet (SAW) said:
"Allah does not go after your bodies and appearances, but He scans your hearts."

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