THINTHICK OR

PHOTO BY: BECKI KANIGAN

WRITTEN BY: JAMILA MEESARAPU

Many mornings I look in the mirror

and smile, pleased at the reflection. I walk

out the door with confidence in each stride.

I’m beautiful, I think to myself. I look good.

Then I see her. The girl who got on the

elevator with me is at least twenty pounds

lighter; I can tell her legs are more toned,

and I suddenly feel like a fat slob.

What just happened? How can I go

from, damn, I’m feeling pretty hot, to, shit, I

feel like a whale?

I know I’m not fat. In fact, I’m within

the “healthy” weight range for my height. I

have coveted curves. When I wear a fitted

pair of jeans, a tank top and heels, people

notice. My boyfriend thinks my body is

that of a goddess, and doesn’t hold back

the daily compliments.

All this said, my body image soars and

dives constantly throughout a given day.

I compare myself to every woman I see.

Is she more attractive, skinnier, better

dressed, getting more attention? And that’s

just the real life women. I feel hopeless

when I see Kim Kardashian’s perfect butt

on a magazine spread, or Cameron Diaz’s

mile-long legs that I will never have.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I get hit on almost daily, (or at least

gawked at like a slab of juicy ribs). Random

people at grocery stores tell me I’m pretty.

And, again, there’s my boyfriend who

thinks I’m a flawless angel that magically

floated into his life. With all this positive

reinforcement, how can a girl be so

yielding?

They say your twenties are spent in

self-discovery. Well, I have two more years

before I embark on my thirties, the decade

when you are supposed to be more settled

and confident. I sure hope so.

As I write this, I don’t think the quick

cure I was hoping for will come. I’m still

going to get on elevators with women I feel

are more attractive than I am. However,

instead of resenting the stranger, I’m going

to have to learn that she (or any woman) is

not a standard that I must measure myself

against.

Now I dip deeper into despair, feeling

selfish, ungrateful and completely self-

absorbed. There are women with serious

health issues, skin disorders, severe weight

challenges and mental anxieties. Here I

am, healthy and mostly in my right mind,

distressed about sheer vanity.

My bible upbringing reminds me

of verses like: you are fearfully and

wonderfully made, you are made in the

image of God, and In Christ, you are a

new creation. In direct contrast, society’s

beauty has become a size, a shape, a skin

color, and an airbrushed spokeswoman

for an expensive brand. Beauty is now an

industry of labels, price tags, and glossy

models on glossy magazines. Beauty has

become something women are forever

chasing, vainly throwing money at it

hoping it will stick.

I don’t think the day will come when

the fashion industry as a whole will

embrace the example set by Dove’s Real

Beauty Campaign. We probably won’t see

size 8 models on the covers of Vogue and

Glamour with regularity. And we won’t halt

airbrushing, out of fear of exposing traces

of cellulite, wrinkles or folds.

So, the solution is not to uproot the

billion-dollar empire that plasters ideals

of women in our faces with relentless

advertising, but rather to change our

grossly skewed definition of beauty. Why

not instead, attach these values to beauty?

Confidence is beautiful. Intelligence

is beautiful. Compassion is beautiful.

Gentility is beautiful. Strength is beautiful.

Joy is beautiful. You are beautiful.

Is a kind girl, with a genuine smile,

a unique style and a brilliant mind

considered beautiful? Are we celebrating

the heart warmers, the creatives, the soul

stirrers, the thinkers, the business women,

the dreamers, the care takers, and the

lovers?

Instead of ripping myself apart every

time I flip through the pages of a fashion

spread, why don’t I make a deliberate

attempt to discover and celebrate real

beauty?

As an image consultant, I understand

the importance of looking your best. and

am in no way condoning an unhealthy,

sloppy lifestyle. Rather I’m challenging

myself, and others to disassociate with

the artificial definition of beauty we have

come to accept. This is no light challenge.

It will take deliberate redefinition. It will

take purposeful celebration of a woman’s

character over a woman’s waistline. It will

take generational unraveling of a mindset

tightly wound. But it must be done. Thick

or thin, you are beautiful.