A few years back, I went to visit one of my sisters, and as we were hanging out in her kitchen, she says, "Oh! I found something!" Her sister-in-law was also there, and we looked at each other and wondered what it could be; When she returned, I instantly recognized the purple heart and rainbow, it was my very first childhood diary. It had been passed down to me from that same sister, with her pages ripped out so I could write my own thoughts and discoveries in it. I remember feeling quite grown up when I received it. After all, it was a year after our mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and we had no choice but to mature a lot more than other kids our age. This diary was to hold all of my secrets and inner worries, and I had quite a few by the time I had turned 7.
We began to look through the entries, and giggle at how cute it was that I loved to write about my play dates, making clothes for my dolls, being annoyed with family friends.... but then we caught a sentence that was anything but funny; "Everyday my weight is 70 pounds. How am I gonna lose weight?"
I was just 7 years old...
It is just mind-boggling that a child even thinks that way, let alone feels the need to worry about it. I get that the 80's and 90's were very much a different time for body image - heck, it was a whole different time for women in general. I just don't understand why anything like this was projected on me at such a young age; was it the magazines, the tv shows, movies... my Barbie dolls? Surely they did not help, but I grew up in a Greek family where, for whatever reason, your image meant everything. I remember feeling bad because my friends were smaller than me, and I knew this because some of them told me. Nice "friends", huh? Well, as kids we all want to be accepted, we all want to just be a kid and play with other kids. I was bullied a lot about my appearance, not only because of my body, but because of my body hair. At least after school, I could be home and away from those comments... at least I had hoped so. My dad wasn't any better with his comments on my weight, or on my looks. "She used to be such a cute kid. What happened?". Well, that is pretty damaging... but how about the fact that I was starting to go through puberty, and his friends felt the need to comment on my growing body and chest? Ugh. At that very moment, I decided to hide my body as a child. I didn't to bring any attention to it, and I begged God to let me just blend in. I was just 7 years old...
31 years later, and what have I learned? That I had many reasons to hate my body, based on what others thought and said out loud. Were they right? Absolutely not. Was I right to react the way I did? I didn't know any better. But I sure do now - and I owe it to that 7 year old child to love every single part of me, on the outside and on the inside. Be the adult that your younger self needed, we can do this. We deserve to heal. - Dina xoxo
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