Big Mac Anyone?

This photo is of 19 year old Sydney model Stephanie Naumoska who was one of 32 contestants in the Australian Miss Universe pageant. Okay, where do I even begin with this one?

First of all, I have always laughed at the unbelievable narcissism of individual countries holding a Miss Universe pageant. Really??? A woman from Australia, Sweden or, as is usually the case, Venezuela can be crowned the most beautiful woman in the entire universe??? How the hell do they know? Maybe there are some totally hot women practicing their splits and twirling skills as we speak on some planet that we have yet to discover. And who would judge a real Miss Universe contest fairly? Obviously people from other planets are bald, have really long necks and giant saucer-like eyes. Would a judge from earth really vote for them? And what about alien judges? Do you really think they would vote for a human? We have skin and hair and smell like dairy. I'm sorry Honey, but if you win this particular contest you're only Miss Planet Earth. Deal with it.

This woman is 5 feet 11 inches tall, weighs just 108 lbs. and has a body mass index of 15.1. The official benchmark for malnutrition, by the way, is 18. I remember seeing bodies like this one in documentaries on both the holocaust and third world starvation. Take away the make up and string bikini, lay her on a mat and put a few flies on her face and there is little difference.

Seriously, we're still doing this to ourselves? Yep. I had friends with eating disorders in high school and I have friends with eating disorders now. My friends and I bitch and moan about our butts and the little bit o' belly that folds over our pants when we sit down. We want our chins to be this, our boobs to be that, the hair on our heads to do this and the rest of our hair waxed to do that. I step back and can't believe that we are still here.

We tell ourselves it's for men. To attract men. Guess what? Men don't care nearly as much as we do. Stand naked in front of a man and he's pretty much just happy to be there. Take off our clothes in a ladies locker room or swimming pool and every woman there is scanning us for flaws - immediately comparing every inch for either validation or as another excuse to self loathe. And we do the same right back. It's not about the men Ladies - it is about us. We do it to ourselves to show each other up.

Guys aren't always the most helpful though. I once dated a guy that grabbed me and told me how much he loved me, everything about me - even my belly (that his stick figure ex-wife didn't have and he was willing to overlook) then he proceeded to grab a hold of my midriff and jiggle. Obviously that is not something I have let go of. Nor have I forgotten the guy that told me he just couldn't be with a woman whose thighs were bigger than his. Now, I am by no means an overly large woman. I am not considered fat. I am, however a 40 year old mother of two. I do not have a perfect body by any stretch but I'm sorry, it is NOT my fault that this particular guy had the skinniest chicken legs humankind has ever seen. Like the photo above without the tan and muscle tone. But I was the one that was undateable because my legs were bigger than his.

Happily, these are the exception. I'm sticking to what I said above: Women + naked = happy men. I'll even go so far as to say this includes many gay men. Although, while straight men want to devour naked women - gay men want to accessorize them. But the appreciation is there nonetheless.

Enough. I declare an end to my personal body war. I will continue to run 6+ miles 2-3times a week and weight train the days in between. And I will continue to stretch and do yoga and drink a ton of water and get enough sleep. I will eat as many alive fruits and vegetables and whole grains as possible. AND I will continue to drink wine and eat baked goods and carbs without brain damaged guilt. And, above all else, I will continue my passionate love affair with chocolate because it makes me deliriously happy.

And happy and healthy beat skinny and sad any damn day of the week.