Recently I encountered a woman considerably thinner than myself. "Damn," I thought, "How does she do it, and why can't I?" My envy was palpable. My shame at not measuring up was painful. I learned from another gal that the woman in question had just gone through several rounds of chemotherapy for ovarian cancer. Talk about smacking me upside the head.
As humans, it is imperative to our survival that we make hasty judgements about our surroundings at all times. We have to protect ourselves, after all. Is this situation, this environment, this person safe? Am I under threat? Will I be okay? This is an evolutionary tool that allows for self-preservation. However, judgements based upon external appearance are thready at best. When you factor in the media-driven insecurity about body size, these judgements can become downright toxic. As evidenced by my aforementioned "She's smaller so she must be better" conclusion, no gain is made by measuring oneself against another.
On any given day, I have countless opportunities to compare myself (and my body) to others. And I take those opportunities. Either I come out one-up (Ha! I'm thinner than she is! I must be doing something right!), or, much more often, I come out one-down (Look at her. I'm a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a human being). The thing is, I have absolutely no information about someone else's situation. Her personal history, her story, her genetics, her lifestyle. Furthermore, it's none of my damn business. I was jealous of a cancer survivor, for God's sake. What's that say about me?
I don't want this to be a statement on petty envy, because that's not what it's about. It's about our innate drive to be good enough. Our incredible drive to prove (to whom? Only to ourselves) that we are okay. A giftedly astute friend recently posed this question to me: "When you die, do you want to be remembered as the skinny one? Or do you want to be remembered for your passion, your creativity, your scruples, the love you shared with the people around you?" I can compare my body to any of the others around me. Most of us have two arms, to legs, a torso, a head. However, there are things you have that I don't have, that nobody else has. Beautiful, spiritual, God-given things. There are things you alone were put on this Earth to offer, to give. I have those things too.
My hope is that the legacy I leave will be one of principle, of commitment, of unyielding love. I don't want to be remembered for my body. I imagine that gal who just beat ovarian cancer is thankful for the years she has left to laugh, embrace, talk, bake, nap, read, kiss. I imagine she couldn't care less what her dress size is. I don't want to care either. I don't want YOU to care.
I will try to remember, the next time I rush to judgement, the next time I stack myself up against someone else, that no one life is comparable to another. We all have our own paths to walk. We all have our own histories to face, to embrace, to transcend. We all have our own DNA. As I tell my children, God made us all unique so we all have things to offer one another. And God makes no mistakes.
