Am I Singlehandedly Dismantling The Body Positivity Movement By Trying to Lose Weight?

And other questions that make me go, “Hmm.”

A funny thing happens when you’re a woman and a self-identifying feminist and the mother of a tweenaged daughter and you want to lose some weight: The questions start flying.

The questions aren’t from other people. They are from the myriad chattering voices in my head, asking thing such as:

• Why do I want to lose 30 pounds when I don’t need to — as in no medical professional has told me I should, and I think I more or less look fine, and most of the clothes in my closet still fit me, although some are admittedly snug?
• Why do I want to lose 30 pounds when many of my friends are rocking the same type of Mom bod as me, and none of us seem particularly bothered by it?
• Why do I want to lose 30 pounds when all the people who matter most to me — including myself — love me just as I am?
• Does wanting and trying to lose 30 pounds make me a bad feminist? Does it make me (gasp!) body negative? Does it mean that I am succumbing to the unrealistic standards of female beauty as established by the patriarchy, and am I doing it because my advancing age is making me feel invisible, irrelevant, matronly, and unattractive to said patriarchy?
• Does it (double gasp!) make me a bad mother and failing role model to the young girl-soon-to-be-young-woman whom the universe has entrusted to my care?
• Am I singlehandedly dismantling all the good (on balance) that the body neutrality/positivity movement has done in the world? Do I have to be one of these thing, or somewhere in between, or can I just… be?
• And can I still listen to Lizzo (provided she’s not cancelled)?

It’s a large can of worms, one I hesitate to open.

I can’t answer all of these questions now, or perhaps ever. I don’t know that I will ever have the definitive answers to these questions, even as I advance on this journey.

But at the embarkation point of said journey, I think at least some of these questions are worth exploring.

So here’s a start.

Body Positive, Body Neutral, Body Movin’, Body Groovin’, Let Me Hear Your Body Talk

On balance, I believe the body positive movement has done good in the world. It’s important for girls and young women (and, heck, older women too) to see all types of bodies represented in the media.

I abhor body shaming, and I want both my son and my daughter to feel good about their own bodies and not compare themselves to others or hold themselves to unreasonable standards.

But… I’m not sure if body positive is exactly what I am.

My body’s okay.

I appreciate its functionality, its general good working order, and that it’s mostly stayed intact over the years. I know that I am lucky to have it. But, no, I don’t think it’s perfect and beautiful as is. I think it could use some work.

Does this make me body neutral?

Hmm. Maybe?

The difference between these two positions is a little muddy to me, but according to Dr. Susan Albers, PsyD, body neutrality is a “middle of the road approach… based on the notions of acceptance and having respect for one’s body rather than love.”

Sounds fair enough. Maybe closer to what I am.

But Albers goes on to say that our bodies are the product of genetics and that “you can’t change or manipulate it and trying to do so can cause harm.”

And this is where I get lost. Sure, there are certain aspects of my body that won’t change, no matter how much weight I lose. I will always have broad hips and slender wrists and smallish feet.

Other things, I can change, such as the tone and strength of my biceps, or the circumference of my waist, or my resting heart rate, and, no, I don’t think it’s harmful to do so. Isn’t it… helpful?

Labels come with limitations. Therefore, I’m choosing not to choose a label here. (And thereby also absolving myself of any effect my individual actions might have on a movement as a whole. So there).

Going forward, I am just a woman who likes herself pretty well, and is also choosing to lose some weight.

Is there a name for this? Never mind. I don’t want to know.

Does Losing Weight Make Me A Bad Role Model To My Adolescent Daughter?

There’s a scenario in which I absolutely believe this could be true, and that’s this: If I were to constantly criticize my own body and/or myself for gaining weight, or if I were to make unkind comments about other people’s bodies, or if I were to announce every ounce I lose and try some wacky weight loss regime that only allows me to eat one packet of stevia a day for a month, then, yes, I think this would add up to make me a terrible role model for both of my daughter and my son.

I do not do these things.

I model self-respect through the way I treat my body, by eating (relatively) well and exercising (relatively) regularly.

I never criticize my body or myself in front of my children, and I do not comment on my weight loss victories or setbacks.

I never comment on anyone else’s body, either in praise or in disparagement. This is true whether we are at the city pool or watching a movie or looking at magazine covers in the grocery store line-up.

And while my kids were very young, I kept an eye on their weight because they were both a little bit on the light side, I refrain from commenting on their bodies now.

I keep tons of fruit and vegetables on hand for healthy snacking, and give a hearty thumbs up when I see them filling their plates with it, even if those plates also contain a cookie or two.

If I reach my goal of losing 30 pounds and my kids comment on it, all I will say is, “Hey, thanks! I did it because I care about myself and I wanted to feel as good as possible.”

Our Bodies, Ourselves: Feminism Isn’t Fat Or Thin

It’s however the self-identifying feminist wants to look and feel.

Why Do I Want To Lose Weight?

This one’s tough. It will be the question I turn over a million times as I do this.

There’s a long, complicated, murky answer, and it’s this: Maybe I don’t know exactly.

My desire to lose weight may have something to do with patriarchal beauty standards. It may be a desire more informed by my adolescence and young adulthood (‘80s-era supermodels on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issues, followed by ’90s heroin chic) than I’m willing to admit.

It may be because I have not entirely shed these beauty ideals because unlearning is just… hard.

Or it may be because I want to feel a little more comfortable in my office chair. And I want to run faster. And I want to buy myself a nice pencil skirt and look sleek in it and look at my reflection in the mirror and go, “Hey. Lookin’ good, lady.”

Maybe I just want to move a little more lightly through the world.

There’s more unpacking to do here. More looking in the mirror, whether I’m in a pencil skirt or not.

More learning and unlearning.

Unless the short answer to this question is the correct one: It’s my body, and I get to choose how I feed it, move it, and, within reason, how much it weighs.

Can I Still Listen To Lizzo (Provided She’s Not Cancelled)?

You know, I’m pretty sure I can.