Underwear

***Potential triggering content***

Yesterday I opened a new package of underwear (stay with me!). Completely boring in design, these underwear are only notable because I ordered a size up from my usual (industry-inflated btw) numerical size. Which was hard because like many people, facing the reality that you need to go up a size isn't typically met with confetti. I held them up and was like, “OH CRAP, these look crazy. They are waaaaaaay too big. Now I’m stuck with too-big underpants because I am not going to be the person who tries to return underwear.”

Well, I tried them on. And they fit fine. And I was reminded of how hard body image shit is.

Because of the public narrative around "ideal" form, it's common for women to criticize their bodies. And like many people, I also unfortunately know another dimension of that pressure. The summer of my senior year of high school I got into an emotional abusive relationship that lasted 3 agonizing years and resulted in an eating disorder. The emotional and perceptual burden of that eating disorder has tailed me--and the perception of my body--my entire life, despite plenty of restorative actions and relationships, and a deep love of food.

Since untangling myself from that terrible relationship I have always insisted on not having a scale in my home, so I couldn't tell you what I weighed before the pandemic or if that has actually changed in the months since. And it shouldn't matter.

I guess I just wanted to issue a public call for self-love and acceptance, given how much negative talk I have heard about weight gain during the pandemic. These are the only bodies we have. They work hard for us every single day. They deserve our love and respect always.

It's clearly a journey, but this morning I smiled when I pulled on another pair of perfectly sized underwear. That's progress.