My Own Skin

I have always been "a big girl" in my own mind. I may or may not be one in real life.  I'm pretty average for a thirty-something year old woman.  I've gained and lost, gained and lost, and gained again.  I'm in the process of losing again, and really hoping I've got my head around living a sustainable and healthy life.  But through all of this, one thing keeps nagging in the back of my mind.  That thought is that my body is unacceptable to the world, and therefore it is unacceptable to me.  I'll tell you how I know this.

First, as a young woman, I was taught to cover my body up.  I was told, in words and in actions, that my exposed skin was shameful, ugly and dirty.  If I wore a skirt that was too short, it was met with comments about how I would be perceived, whether it made me into an object to boys, or as 'slutty' or cheap.  I stopped wearing skirts.  If it wore a top that showed my stomach, I was told to cover up so as to not invite unwanted attention or advances.  Cover up or someone will hurt you.  (And it'll be your own fault, you know, as sexual assault always is.)

I was also told that my body wasn't good enough.  My thighs rubbed together when I walked.  Why couldn't I just lose a little weight there?  I would look so much better.  My body didn't belong to me.  I was harassed by boys and men alike for the curves I was developing, and so I covered them up.  Baggy pants, baggy shirts, lots of layers - these were my armor.  Cover up or you're open to criticism.  Cover up too much, and you get more criticism. 

My body has done a great many things for me, including keeping me alive and giving two beautiful children to the world.  As an adult, I tried really hard to shut out the world's idea of what my body should be and marveled in what it could do.  It was really eye-opening.  But then came the time when I had to go out, go to the swimming pool, dress up for a function.  Clothes didn't fit well.  They never really had, considering my curves never allowed me to just be one size, but after having kids, it was thrown much more askew.  Wear a two piece bathing suit after having had children and watch the looks you get at the pool.  Yes, I have stretch marks, and my lumps and bumps are hard to hide.  But man did I try to hide them.  The world told me I should, because the only pictures I had ever seen of women in bathing suits were ones who had no lumps and bumps and stretch marks.  Okay, world.  You're telling me to cover up.  I get it. You can turn your incredulous eyes away while I cover up again.  Sorry I offended your idea of what my body should be.

There is nothing in this society that has told me that my body is acceptable.  Not. One. Thing.  It is fodder for criticism everywhere I turn.  Wear something too revealing in your late thirties and you are judged.  Wear something too baggy and frumpy and you are judged.  Show it, hide it, live in it fat or skinny or somewhere in the middle, and you are judged. 

Well, I want to come to a place in my life where I give less fucks about what the world thinks about my body.  I can look hot at size 14 and size 4.  I can push two kids out of my vagina and still have sex appeal, feel attractive and be attractive.  I don't want to care if you, the world at large, find my body unacceptable in a two-piece bathing suit.  I want to feel the sun on my skin.  I want to look in the mirror and understand that my own skin is beautiful.  It tells the story of my life.  It shows me what I am capable of.  It shows me that it can do a great many things if I treat it well, and will continue to be loyal to me to the end.  So, shouldn't I love my own skin too?  Shouldn't I tell the damn world it doesn't own my body, and that it is my gift?  Shouldn't I stop criticizing every lump, bump, curve and mark (as the world is wont to do) and instead see if for what it is?  It is a trophy.  It is a story.  It is a life lived and being lived. 

So, here it is.  This is my resolution.  Stop finding myself unacceptable.  Stop berating myself and let my skin breathe.  Wear what I want, when I want.  Be free of the constraints put on me, woman, by the world.  You can't tell me I am not beautiful.  It is not my fault if you look at me inappropriately.  It is not my fault if you think I don't conform to the aesthetic this world believes in.  Screw you.

Here's to starting to find my own skin acceptable.  Only I get to decide that.

Warm Weather Antagonization

With the onset of delicious, warm, summer weather, I've felt many things.  I've felt that exhilaration a lizard feels when sunning on a rock, that need to open up my petals like the flower lying dormant under the frost of winter, the freedom of my toes as they shed the winter trappings.  All of these things come with the onset of sunshine and warmth.  One thing I didn't anticipate feeling was frustration and anger toward my daughter's school. 

It came with the title, "Request for Parental Support/Dress Code." My oldest daughter is 13 years old.  She dresses comfortably, and I approve 100% of the clothing she wears.  I buy them for her, ergo she has my approval.  She wears tank tops when it is hot.  As do I.  The request began innocuously enough: a short discussion of the fact that her school had a dress code, and the outline of said dress code.  Some points of the code are fine.  Don't wear clothing that promotes drug or alcohol use, sexual innuendos or crude language.  Check.  Fine.  Don't wear headgear that isn't religious in nature.  Sure.  I don't really get why, but okay.  Don't wear halter, tank, thin strap and short "belly" tops.  Hold on.  Wait a second.  Who is this one directed to?  Think about that one for a moment.  This list goes on: sunglasses or distracting accessories, ripped and torn clothing (good luck with that one these days), pajamas and onesies, hats, toques and bandannas (spelled incorrectly, I might add).

This seems like a run-of-the-mill dress code for most schools, and workplaces.  Most of it, though I fail to see its relevance, is harmless.  The fact that my daughter is barred from wearing tank tops on hot days bothers me.  If I am okay sending her out the door in the morning in a tank top, don't you dare send her home or tell her to change.  Are her shoulders so offensive?  For that matter, are mine?  I wear sleeveless tops all the time.  My daughter took issue with this one as well.  In fact, she did a little experiment.  She and a male friend of hers both wore a tank top to school the same day.  The predictable ending:  she was chastised and he was not.  This is where I take exception - the double standard.  I am a teacher, and I would wear a sleeveless, or tank top, to work if it were hot.  I have done so on many occasions. 

Here's the kicker: "Educators are not Victorian prudes, and we did not enter our profession to be fashion police.  However, if required, we will ask our young people to put on more clothes.  If they refuse or if our requests are frequent, we will seek parent support, as we want to get on with the job of teaching and learning..." This is quoted word for word in the document sent to all parents.  Firstly, what must have prompted them to write something so tongue and cheek?  Secondly, how dare you address me, the parent, in that manner?  The blanket statement was obviously motivated by anger or frustration, and is dripping with animosity.  The email ends with talk of a cohesive relationship and thanking parents for their anticipated support.  Simply by using this type of rhetoric, they do not have my support.  I don't care how reasonable they appear to be, they are using language to get a rise out of people, and effectively pitting me against them. 

My support is not given on this one.  Not all of it.  When saying they will ask their young people to put on more clothes, who exactly is this directed toward?  Girls.  100% girls.  And this was backed up by evidence.  My daughter's male friend wearing a tank top was not asked to "put on more clothes," while my daughter was.  She owns no tank tops that show anything more than her shoulders, and they are in no way offensive, nor would they be if there were less material.  It is not the school's place to teach my daughter to hide her body, and be ashamed of her own skin.  It is not their place to tell her that her shoulders are offensive to the teaching and learning environment.  It is not their place to target the girls and not the boys when the warm weather comes along. 

So here's my rant.  This one has taken weeks of mulling around to be ready to put into words.  I know what it's like to teach in a junior high school.  I understand the challenges that come along with all of that.  The last thing a junior high school should do is intentionally antagonize the parents of their learners.  I feel antagonized.