Skinny Girls Have Insecurities Too

I've noticed a disturbing trend lately and I'm sure I'm not the only one. In response to a culture that glorifies unnatural thinness in women there has been an angry backlash across social media and the internet. I've read women using phrases like:

"Real women have curves"

"Who even thinks being a twig like skeleton is pretty?"

"I have baby bearing hips and I'm proud of it."

"No one actually looks like that. It's disgusting."

"Eating disorders aren't attractive."

Is it? Why can't we all be beautiful regardless of our size and shape? Yes, maybe many of those women models are struggling with eating disorders and unnatural photo shop techniques. But is lambasting them in the public square as fake, disgusting, unnatural, twigs, skeletal, unable to bear children, really going to change anything? No, all this talk does is make everyone feel more insecure.

Putting someone down will never make you feel better about yourself. It never will. So please stop.

And in our haste to champion "real women with curves" we shuffle girls who are skinny and insecure about their own bodies to the side. We reassure and brush them off with the dismissive label: "but look how skinny you are, at least you're thin, you could be a model." As a girl who's always been naturally thin I would like to say: thin girls are often just as insecure in their own skin as anyone else. For most of my teenage years I lamented and agonized over not having curves. And now that pregnancy and breastfeeding have given me those envied curves I secretly worry about not staying skinny. Because for a long time I thought skinniness was my only claim to beauty - it was usually the thing people complimented. And that's not fair.

So, aside from how we insult others to make ourselves feel better, we also need to be aware of what and how we're "complimenting." Two of the best compliments I ever received are these:

1. A woman I didn't know in church came up to me and very sincerely told me I was absolutely beautiful. She didn't say why exactly, but she described how I had a dignified, regal air and she just thought my facial features were beautiful. Other than my parents, no one had ever complimented me that way. Not ever. No one had ever just looked me in the eye and said you're beautiful because you're you.

2. My then boyfriend and now husband telling me he loved my beautiful eyes and that he couldn't resist me anything when I look at him. When he said this it further confirmed that he was the one. I was always looking for a guy that would sincerely compliment my eyes, because it meant he was studying and looking at them instead of just my body.

When we compliment or focus on surface features like skinniness or curves we miss the vast person hiding underneath, often secretly insecure and desperate for love and acceptance, whether they be a size 2 or size 16. Beauty is not a contest and the world's definition is constantly in flux. We are more than our bodies. And everyone needs to know that, even skinny girls.

The Hardest Week of my Life...so far

Sleep training. Such a benign label for something that may literally be most parents' hell on earth. That may sound melodramatic, but there have been times this past week while "sleep training" my 8 month old that I felt like I was putting both her and myself through hell.

Now, I'll admit I've had a relatively blessed, easy life. It had its moments of loneliness, anxiety, depression, confusion. But for the most part I have never had to experience true grief. I have never lost a loved one. I have never been chronically ill. I have never been so humbled and purified by the refiner's fire as I have this past week while sleep training my sweet baby.

The truth is I loved sleeping with my baby for the first 8 months of her life. And if I were a single mom I might have continued to do it for as long as she would let me. I mean, what could be better than snuggling your little baby, nursing them to sleep, knowing they're safe and warm? For 8 months I told my lonely, somewhat neglected husband: "She's only this small and needy for a short time. I have my whole life to spend with you. But soon she won't need me anymore and I have to be there for her while she does."

You see, I was a staunch advocate of something called "attachment parenting," advocated by Dr. Sears that encourages baby wearing, baby led weaning, co-sleeping, nursing, etc. Anything and everything to keep babies as happy as can be and therefore parents too. And I still wholly advocate those strategies while babies are small and adjusting to life outside the womb. But at some point parents also have to be parents. They can't just be teddy bears or lifelong pals. They have to teach the hard lessons.

Now, sleep training is most definitely not for everyone. But neither is co-sleeping or getting up in the night to comfort baby or toddler for years. If a parent wants to sleep with their baby until he/she is 3 years old then that is their prerogative. But if a parent feels the need to sleep train their child than that is also their right. Neither method has been proven to cause psychological damage or sleep issues and those assumptions need to stop flying on both sides of the argument. Because in the end every parent and child is growing in their own unique situation, and a loving parent is a child's best advocate.

It was almost impossible for me to convince myself when Aria would cry - two times for an hour long off and on - that I was doing this out of love. But I was. I realized that she was chronically overtired and sleep is essential especially in infants. And I knew the only way for her to get the sleep she really needed was to learn how to sleep without me. I also realized that since she had started eating solids and was no longer exclusively breastfed I owed it to my husband to prioritize him over my biological mothering instincts.

And yet, when she cried I experienced the worst sort of mental and emotional torture - a kind of withdrawal and battering that I never could have anticipated. Quite honestly I believe I felt much like a heroine addict in withdrawal - every cell in my body cried out against it. There is nothing more heartbreaking that I have experienced than watching your child suffer. I prayed harder than I ever had that angels would be there to comfort her and that she would still love me in the morning. I experienced panic attacks, anxiety, depression, nausea and lonely longing for my baby. When she was finally quiet I would close my eyes to sleep but I would still hear her crying. I honestly wondered if I was losing my mind.

It was only after I asked my husband to give me a blessing that I finally realized in my darkest, sleepless hour I realized that my suffering and aching for my baby could hardly compare to the suffering our Heavenly Father must have felt in sacrificing His only, beloved and completely innocent Son for the good of the world. I can not even begin to imagine the terrible heartbreak that must have been His to bear when his Son asked that the terrible cup be removed, and yet willingly submitted to unimaginable pain and suffering. He could have stopped it. He could have saved Him. Christ was completely innocent. But He didn't, and because He let him suffer for the greater good we all have hope. Finally I understood, just a tiny bit more, the immense love God has for us that He would allow His innocent Son to be offered as a sacrifice. And yet, even He, our God, had to turn away at the end when Christ asked "Father, why hast thou forsaken me?" I've heard it postulated that God in His all knowing wisdom thought it a necessary part of the Atonement that Christ learn to experience the lowest of all - the complete withdrawal of God's spirit. But as a mother I would also postulate that He could not bear to even watch, so difficult was it for God to let Him suffer and suffer alone.

As is true with most of the difficult trials we experience or even choose to experience in life, I can say now that it was worth it. I did it out of love and our entire family is better for it. I imagine Heavenly Father would say the same about the Atonement. For all those who have felt forsaken by God, unloved and alone, left to endure their personal Gethsemane alone, never forget that just because God allows us to suffer does not mean He is not the loving, ever watchful Father of our spirit. Parenting means making sacrifices and teaching the hard lessons. He will send angels to comfort you, but He has to let you learn the hard way sometimes. And because He allowed his Son to suffer the pains of all Christ knows just how to comfort you if you will give your pain over to Him.

Aria finally sleeping peacefully in her own bed, with her ever trusty creeper by her side.

Why I Still Love Twilight

Yes, I am actually talking about these books:

I am NOT talking about these laughable movie adaptations:

Please, I beg of you, do not confuse the two.

I'll admit, I was a teenager when I first became obsessed with Twilight. And the obsession bordered on the unhealthy. But I actually resisted the lure of this vampire romance for quite some time. I had friends and my very own parents doing their utmost to persuade me to give them a try. My own mother was feverishly reading the book at red stoplights on the way home from picking me up from school before I was finally convinced. (Admittedly, she was a very busy mother of six so this may have been one of her few chances to read at all.) Much like you are probably doing at this very moment, I rolled my eyes and inwardly scoffed at the idea of a vampire romance - no way could some twisted predator/prey relationship really be romantic. All that could ever be was abusive, demeaning, and all kinds of stupid. Right?

Well, Twilight proved me wrong and I loved every moment of it. I just recently re-read the book in preparation for this post. I am now a 21 year old mother and English major college student. And in spite of literally every English professor I have ever had disparaging and mocking them at some point, I still thoroughly enjoyed them. Those books will always occupy a very cherished place in my heart despite the popular backlash against them. 

Common Accusations Against Twilight

1. Bella is empty, weak, stupid, infatuated, vapid, spineless. She teaches girls to be the same and to give everything, even their very lives if necessary, into the hands of the first handsome guy that comes along. She promotes misogynistic, abusive relationships in the minds of impressionable young girls. 

First of all, Bella stands up for herself quite well. She turns down other boys before Edward and she does so with grace and confidence. She has a defined, intricate character that yes, many girls can relate to. And she does entrust her life to a dangerous vampire that may very well end her life or otherwise put her in danger. BUT, these critics miss the fact that Edward cares for her just as immensely and unconditionally as she does for him. He respects her, protects her, and exerts excruciating effort to resist  and prevent what some might call the inevitable - her death, by his hands or any others. He succeeds with quite a lot of sacrifice, if not more, on his part than she does. 

2. Regardless, it gives girls completely unrealistic expectations for men - that they have to be incredibly sexy, perfect, cultured, talented, rich immortals. They'll be crushed and completely unprepared for real life relationships.

First of all, Twilight is in essence a fairytale. And fairytales by their very nature promote unrealistic expectations such as frogs turning into princes, fairy godmothers magically creating ball gowns, a beast humanized by a woman's love, a princess woken by true love's kiss, just to name a few. And yet, we're fascinated and enchanted by these types of stories because they whisper to us an eternal truth that we never can forget:

Love can conquer any evil. 

And secondly, girls should absolutely be taught to find and settle for nothing less than their Prince Charming, their Edward, their Mr. Darcy, etc. There is no such thing as a perfect man - and Edward is anything but perfect. But I believe there is such a thing as a perfect match or soulmate, but that's a topic for another post.

3. It's poorly written, unbelievable, and ends anticlimactically.

I'm not going to brazenly assert that Twilight is an equal match for classics such as Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice. The level of writing is certainly no match for either of them. But it still ranks among them in my heart of hearts. And why? Because much like these classic romances it champions the classic truth: that we always have the choice to choose good, to choose love, no matter the impossibility of our circumstances. And for me at least, it did so just as convincingly if not nearly as eloquently, as any book I've ever read.

For those dissatisfied with the lack of a huge fight at the end, I would say that you're missing the entire point. The books were never about the blood and action. The relationships that somehow manage to survive any and every obstacle were the climax.

I'm not saying everyone can or even should love and enjoy Twilight. But I refuse to be ashamed of my unabashed esteem for it any longer. They're my favorite fairytale. So take the scoffs and scorn somewhere else please.

Musings on Motherhood: Why Perfectionism is a Dead End

Perfectionism is my Achilles' heel. It always has been.

I distinctly remember resolving at the young age of 7, in a Primary lesson preparing us for baptism at the age of 8, that I would remain perfect and pure after my baptism. We were taught that any sin could be washed away by baptism, but that afterwards we would inevitably make mistakes that required change and repentance. Repentance sounded so scary, so humiliating. No way was I going to deal with the messy effects of sin, guilt, and the arduous process of repentance. I was going to stay perfect; simple as that.

Of course, I was crestfallen when shortly after my baptism I got frustrated with and snapped at my sister. The first of many, many post baptism sins. It took me many long years and I'm still learning that perfection is not something you be by sheer force of will, and nor should you waste precious time and energy harping on past mistakes.

Being a perfectionist will never, ever make me perfect. Only God can do that.

Demanding perfection of ourselves accomplishes nothing. Either we will begin to believe the lie - that we are perfect and hence our own God, our own universe. Or, we will define ourselves by failure and collapse into ourselves in a destructive cycle of anxiety and depression.

It had taken me 21 long years to learn this lesson: that I can not and am not expected to be perfect. That it is an arrogant, fruitless endeavor to even try. My role is to learn and to always be just a little bit better - to place my imperfections on the altar, to be humble enough to acknowledge and eventually overcome them bit by bit with my Savior's grace. But then, this happened:

I became a mother. My whole reason for living, for breathing, for moving, for loving shifted. I and my husband were no longer the center of our own universe. We had been given a miracle and I wanted so desperately to live worthy of her. She was tiny, helpless, and perfect. And I needed to be perfect for her because she deserved nothing less. 

I have since realized that one of the most heartbreaking realizations is in life is that no matter how much we love and desire perfection in ourselves for our children, we can never give them that. And the truth is, we're not meant to. Our children already have perfect Heavenly Parents. They do not need us to fill that role. Our responsibility is not to show them how to be perfect, but to show them how to be human. They need to learn how to acknowledge their own shortcomings and imperfections - how to be humble enough to apologize, to repent, to pick themselves up and be better the next day. If we as parents are so consumed with the heights of perfection that we fail to teach our children how to build upon and be better for their mistakes we will have done them a far greater disservice than if we let them see us at our weakest. We must be what we want our children to be and I am realizing that I would rather my daughter learn how to face the trials and realities of imperfection from me than from her own failed experiences with perfectionism.

I still pray to be the best mother I can possibly be. But I am slowly but surely accepting that I can not be perfect. I can never be "good enough" for my precious baby, but that's ok, because God is always good enough. I can only love and point her to Him. And that is all she needs from me.