Last year, my New Year’s column was about how pointless it is for me to make New Year’s resolutions. This year, I decided to think more critically about the types of resolutions that people make. A lot of people pledge to spend their money wisely, to quit smoking or to recycle, but the top goal that people set for themselves at the dawn of the new year is to slim down.
As much as I’ve learned about body image problems and preached about the importance of learning to love yourself, I sometimes spend an unreasonable amount of time wondering if my arms are getting fat. I’ve read scholarly works on the body, and though I’d like to believe that these theorists have made a sizeable impact on my life, I can’t help but occasionally wince upon catching my reflection after what can only be blamed on one too many Christmas cookies.
I’m not saying that I spend all of my time fantasizing about being thinner. I think that I have a healthy amount of confidence, but from time to time, I become concerned about my appearance.
When this happens, I’m often caught in this conundrum where I not only feel fat but also feel guilty about worrying about being fat when there are people in the world with real problems. I feel terrible for agonizing over my jeans getting tighter when the person who made my jeans will quite possibly live and die in a sweatshop, worrying about being beaten or starving to death. To the person who made my jeans, being able to fill them out would probably be a blessing.
So, why is it that while people all over the world are dealing with things like genocide, poverty and war, I’m so preoccupied with the fear of my thighs touching that I’m writing an article about it? Why is it that losing weight and getting in shape are wildly popular resolutions, but I’ve never heard of anyone vowing to donate more money to charity in the upcoming year?
The answer probably has to do with growing up in America, the land of the 99-cent chicken nugget and the home of diet cola. This is a narcissistic, consumer-based society, and whether we’re aware of it or not, every day we’re bombarded with advertisements that not only tell us we’re fat but also tell us to eat more.
Occasionally, these advertisements even ask us to help out the impoverished people so that, hopefully, someday they, too, can know what it’s like to live in houses with televisions that blare commercials, to make new year’s resolutions, to eat whole jars of peanut butter in one sitting and to enjoy the luxury of occasional self-hatred.
Holly Combs can be reached at [email protected]
