Body Shame and the Wisdom of Barbie

I’ve struggled with body image my whole life. I was never thin enough. Never tall enough. Never pretty enough. Never anything enough. When I look back at pictures of myself when I was young, I’m baffled by these thoughts because now I see myself as an attractive young woman. But all I felt back then was disgust for my body, so much so that I disconnected from it a long time ago.

I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was June 1980, and I was twelve years old. My friend and I were walking down the street in our neighborhood, headed to Circle K to get Slurpees. We’d made this trek a thousand times, at least.

We were at the awkward stage in human development, right on the cusp of womanhood while still wanting to be children. I’m pretty sure we were playing with Barbies right before we decided to walk to the corner store.

My friend was tall and thin and blonde. I, on the other hand, felt short and stubby next to her.

In reality, I was about 5’5” with sandy brown hair and a body that made me look older than I was—more like 15 than 12. I was thin with curves in all the right places—an early bloomer, my mom used to say. It was summer in Arizona so we were wearing as little as possible—which was actually quite a bit since we were members of the Mormon church. I was wearing a hot pink T-shirt with knee-length shorts. The shirt was a bit tight (thanks to my developing body), but I wouldn’t be getting new clothes until school started in the fall. Considering it was June in Arizona and probably 110 degrees outside, it was a lot of clothes. No tank tops or short-shorts for me—because “Modest is hottest" was my motto, even at the age of twelve.

When we got to Circle K, some older boys exited the store as we entered. They were cute! My friend and I exchanged glances and giggles as they passed—because 12-year-old girls tend to do that kind of thing. The boys were quickly forgotten, however, as we picked out snacks and ordered Slurpees from the man at the counter. We chatted and laughed as we walked out the door, brown paper bags filled with penny candy in one hand and oversized drink cups in the other.

But before we were completely out of the store, catcalls began.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the boys from earlier standing by an old beat-up car, staring in our direction. My friend and I took one look at each other and sped up. WE WERE TWELVE and had no idea what to do with the attention of boys. Of course, that didn’t stop them. They got in their car and followed us home, whistling and calling out to us the entire way.

The thing that’s so interesting to me is that I wasn’t scared in my memory. I mean, if twelve-year-old girls were being followed home by 16 or 17-year-old boys today, I’d be pressing charges against them. But there was no fear in this situation. I never felt unsafe. I never thought about what could happen if they decided to force me into their car.

Instead, I was embarrassed!

In my mind, they were attracted to my curvy body, and that was a bad thing. Not for them. Boys were supposed to be attracted to girls. But the responsibility of girls was to make sure no boy was ever ‘tempted’ by her body. And somehow, even at the age of twelve, I knew I had failed.

That incident was the beginning of a lifetime of embarrassment for my body. My history of childhood sexual abuse only compounded the problem. I rarely felt beautiful, and if I did, I felt guilty for feeling beautiful. I honestly believe the issues I’ve always had with my weight stem from these crazy beliefs about my body that were deeply ingrained from a very young age.

I’ve done a lot of work around healing this part of me. I’m currently working on figuring out how to have a healthier relationship with food. And maybe because of that focus, I’ve been feeling the weight of womanhood.

A quote from the Barbie Movie comes to mind:

I feel like I’ve been tying myself in knots in an effort to be enough throughout my entire life. And I don’t think I’m alone.

Most of the women I know are perfectionists or people-pleasers, bending over backward to make life better for everyone around them, all while ignoring their own needs and wants. They criticize themselves for not being enough while holding down a full-time job, running a household, supporting their partner, and taking care of their kids. And if they look like they have kids…heaven forbid. Everyone has something to say about that woman who has “let herself go.”

And then we’re right back where we started: BODY SHAME.

Listen, I’m on a mission to help women heal their inner mean girl so they can stop criticizing their bodies and start loving themselves before it’s too late.

When I’m addressing this issue with clients, one of their biggest concerns is how to break the chain of self-loathing for their daughters. They don’t want to pass it on!

And the only way I know of to do that is to heal yourself first.

It’s never too late to heal your own trauma so you can pass that gift of healing onto your children…and their children.

If this resonates with you, I’d love to chat. Schedule a FREE Self-Talk Assessment call and let’s get to the bottom of your Inner Mean Girl messages. You deserve to have a life where your needs and wants are met—and so does your posterity.

Click HERE to schedule. I can’t wait to meet you!