Today's guest post is by Bethany J. Royer from Mother of the Munchkins. Bethany is an independent contractor and writer currently studying psychology. Bethany has written for us today about a very personal topic - her recent divorce and its impact on her body image. I have no doubt her words will resonant loudly with anyone who has had a similar experience.My first thought as my forty-one year old husband revealed an affair with a girl half his age, was not one you’d expect. I immediately thought - "Cool, I’m going to get my figure back." I was at least eighty pounds over what had been my usual weight for most of my adult life and while I would say to others I wasn’t happy with the extra weight, (as if it were required of me, like an apology), I was actually quite content.
In fact, for the first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. I was free of crazy notions that I wasn’t good enough because I couldn't fit into a single digit pant size. This, coming from a gal who grew up chubby and was constantly harassed about it to the point where I starved my way down to a society-approved size in high school. I continued to master this size as an adult via one crazy diet after another, starvation, and hours of exercise. I managed to keep up the charade until my second marriage, where I finally decided I was going to accept my God-given, natural, size.
Yet, as my husband revealed his betrayal with a lithe, blonde, twenty-one year old in June this year, my first thought was - "I’m going to be skinny again." Obviously, my body image was not as healthy as I had assumed. As I moved my belongings out of our house, including that of our two young daughters, I began to lose weight in record time. The more the weight fell off, the more I reveled in attention about the weight loss.
A handful of months later however, as I stood before a mirror several sizes smaller, one would have thought I’d be deliriously happy. Instead I thought to myself - "Two more pant sizes, just two more, and I’ll be happy. Okay, maybe three." Great! I’d been perfectly content with the old me and now I was playing a game of self-loathing.
I have slowly come to realise that divorce is a soul-devouring event that does a number on your self-esteem. I had believed I was content with a partner who accepted me completely. After the divorce though, I found myself questioning everything from my size, to new wrinkles across my forehead and the number of candles now on my birthday cake. How did I recover my self-esteem?
As much as I have wanted there to be a magic pill to swallow, or a perfect pant size to recoup my self-esteem, I have realised there isn’t one. I have come to realise we live in a society that pushes us to be beautiful, thin and forever young, which in turn makes us put ridiculous expectations on ourselves. I am now amazed to think of my reaction on the day I found out about the affair. I was not thinking about the harm the situation posed to our children, possibly my health, and the end of what I thought was a safe, secure, marriage. I was thinking of my waistline. Everything in my life was at stake and I was daydreaming how I would toss out all my “fat” clothes.
Looking back, which seems like an eternity, but has only been four months, I'm embarrassed by my thoughts of how a smaller pant size would make my life perfectly happy. Losing weight is not a guarantee of a big stamp of approval for life, and yes, indeed, a smaller pant size does not equate happiness, even after divorce.
Thanks Bethany. I know you are currently searching for a publisher about your recent experiences and I wish you all the best with that. Please let me know if you ever get published!
My first thought as my forty-one year old husband revealed an affair with a girl half his age, was not one you’d expect. I immediately thought - "Cool, I’m going to get my figure back." I was at least eighty pounds over what had been my usual weight for most of my adult life and while I would say to others I wasn’t happy with the extra weight, (as if it were required of me, like an apology), I was actually quite content.
In fact, for the first time in my life, I was comfortable in my own skin. I was free of crazy notions that I wasn’t good enough because I couldn't fit into a single digit pant size. This, coming from a gal who grew up chubby and was constantly harassed about it to the point where I starved my way down to a society-approved size in high school. I continued to master this size as an adult via one crazy diet after another, starvation, and hours of exercise. I managed to keep up the charade until my second marriage, where I finally decided I was going to accept my God-given, natural, size.
Yet, as my husband revealed his betrayal with a lithe, blonde, twenty-one year old in June this year, my first thought was - "I’m going to be skinny again." Obviously, my body image was not as healthy as I had assumed. As I moved my belongings out of our house, including that of our two young daughters, I began to lose weight in record time. The more the weight fell off, the more I reveled in attention about the weight loss.
A handful of months later however, as I stood before a mirror several sizes smaller, one would have thought I’d be deliriously happy. Instead I thought to myself - "Two more pant sizes, just two more, and I’ll be happy. Okay, maybe three." Great! I’d been perfectly content with the old me and now I was playing a game of self-loathing.
I have slowly come to realise that divorce is a soul-devouring event that does a number on your self-esteem. I had believed I was content with a partner who accepted me completely. After the divorce though, I found myself questioning everything from my size, to new wrinkles across my forehead and the number of candles now on my birthday cake. How did I recover my self-esteem?
As much as I have wanted there to be a magic pill to swallow, or a perfect pant size to recoup my self-esteem, I have realised there isn’t one. I have come to realise we live in a society that pushes us to be beautiful, thin and forever young, which in turn makes us put ridiculous expectations on ourselves. I am now amazed to think of my reaction on the day I found out about the affair. I was not thinking about the harm the situation posed to our children, possibly my health, and the end of what I thought was a safe, secure, marriage. I was thinking of my waistline. Everything in my life was at stake and I was daydreaming how I would toss out all my “fat” clothes.
Looking back, which seems like an eternity, but has only been four months, I'm embarrassed by my thoughts of how a smaller pant size would make my life perfectly happy. Losing weight is not a guarantee of a big stamp of approval for life, and yes, indeed, a smaller pant size does not equate happiness, even after divorce.
Thanks Bethany. I know you are currently searching for a publisher about your recent experiences and I wish you all the best with that. Please let me know if you ever get published!