I can almost hear each of you guffawing loudly as you read the title of this post. Rest assured, I have no delusions of being a size 2, or even a size 10 for that matter.
My mom and I were commiserating last night about the age we were when we had our "perfect body" (21 in my case). When everything was slim and strong and perky and bouncy in all the right places. Aaaaah, I miss that body.
My 32 year old body is a seriously long way from that cute little 21 year old body I used to have, with more flaws than I care to desribe. I passed perfection a loooooong time ago.
But, to very loosely quote a friend of my mom, what if perfection doesn't necessarily mean mean "without flaws" (perfect teeth, shiny hair, no stretch marks or cellulite) but what another definition I found says: nothing requisite is wanting. I love that. Nothing requisite is wanting = perfection.
My body gets me where I need to go - it walks, it dances, it occasionally runs. It definitely kneels. It lifts my daughter and hugs my husband and pets my dogs. It's great at laughing and at crying. It lets me do laundry and type emails. My body has allowed me to work and help support my family. My body has all it's 5 senses and sometimes a 6th, or even a 7th. I can see, smell, touch, and hear my own child. I can taste food! My body even lets me drink Diet Coke.
I can climb the stairs and climb in bed or into the tub. I can paint, I can ride a bike, I can blow dry my hair. I have hair! My body let's me teach music to adorable kids and sing and flail my arms. It allows me to cook if I want, or watch a movie, or walk around Costco.
I can comfort, I can hug and kiss, I can be every role I have and any other role I want: wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, etc.
In short, my body does absolutely everything I need it to.
I have a perfect body.
*****************************************************************
And to end on a humorous note, I've included a conversation from one my favorite movies, Beautiful Girls (sensitive souls - don't watch this unedited). It's Rosie O'Donnel's character, Gina, telling some of the guys in the movie what shallow idiots they are. Have no fear - it's been edited, although there are a large # of references to boobs. Be warned.
Gina: I'm finished speaking to both of you okay? You're both insane. You want to know what your problem is? MTV, Playboy, and Madison Avenue. Yes. Let me explain something to you, ok? Girls with big boobs have big butts. Girls with little boobs have little butts. That's the way it goes. God doesn't mess around; he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful breasts and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him.
[Looking at a porn magazine]
Gina: Oh, guys, look what we have here. Look at this, your favorite.
Tommy: I could go along with that.
Gina: Yeah, that's nice right? Well, it doesn't exist ok. Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a weave ok? And the boobs, please! I could hang my overcoat on them. Breasts by design were invented to be suckled by babies. Yes, they're purely functional. These are silicon city. This is a mockery, this is a sham. Implants, collagen, plastic, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed... These are not real women, all right? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, hi bob, and our cellulite feel somehow inadequate. Well I don't buy it, all right? But you idiots, if you think that if there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women, you don't give us real women anything approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up eighty-years old, drooling in some nursing home, then you're going to decide, it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What, are you going to find a cheerleader?
Tommy: I think you're over simplifying.
Gina: Oh shut it. Look at Paul. With his models on the wall, his dog named Elle McPherson. He's insane. He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an once of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound, beauty is truly skin-deep. And you know what, if you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.
Tommy: What?
Gina: No mater how perfect the face, how supple the thigh, unless there is something else going on in the relationship, besides the physical, it's going to get old, ok? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip. Otherwise, the future of the human race is in jeopardy.
