Obsession, an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on a person’s mind.
I am obsessed with my waist line or at least the lack of one. I was a fat kid. Well not really. I went from a really skinny kid between two to six years of age to a fat kid. At the skinny time my grandmother and mother obsessed about how skinny I was. They, mom and grand mom, set on the sun porch and rubbed my skinny legs with olive oil. Why? I have no idea. I suppose it was to make them shinny and skinny.
Whatever, at age seven the tonsils came out and I discovered caloric overload. Thus became the fat kid. My third grade teacher named me pie face. I guess my parents were happy because I remember my father taking me to the ice cream parlor on the way home from school to get me even more calories.
My mom worked as a house servant for wealthy folks up north. She would stop on her way home to buy challah (rich egg bread of the Jewish tradition) for toast in the mornings. This was when Davidson’s bakery existed. The shops were our history from the 1920’s until 1982. My favorite treat was the cruller. I couldn’t wait to get the spongy, sweet slightly orange flavored delight to my pudgy lips. Others were captivated by the special sugar cookies. (http://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/ct-tribu-daley-question-sugar-cookies-20120306-story.html). 1982 ended that era but before that my era of fatness ended.
Maybe I should give credit to the growth spurt. Between grammar school summer and the beginning of sophomore year I grew an incredible eight inches. I went to an all girls school on the south side. We wore uniforms composed of a horrible plaid skirt, a white shirt and a blazer. One was reprimanded if the skirt hem rose above the knee. I of course, grew so fast those two years after grammar school that I got regularly reprimanded for “rolling” my skirt. That is the act of turning the waist band of your skirt a few times to take up the hem. I had not done so but who cared.
The other remarkable thing that happened while I was not rolling my skirt, was the development of a waist line. Who knew? The curves went from spherical to “hot” but why would I care about the curves when I was a bookworm nerd in an all girls school.
College came and my glorious twenties when I modeled some. The Commodores came out with “Brick House” and that was me, 36,24,36.
I’ve struggled with self image. I had a bout of anorexia in my 30’s. I’ve been struggling with what menopause does to you. Believe me it’s not just the waist line. Through this all I look at what is happening today in our view of things related to body. I am so happy to see beautiful people of all sizes being celebrated.
Don’t let that be lost. Not for body type or color of skin or origins or religion.