When I was younger I took my body for granted. It did everything I wanted and needed it to do. As a kid I walked to and from school, sometimes twice a day because we came home for lunch in the olden days. All the neighbourhood kids did. We rode our bikes all over the countryside. We played our version of baseball for hours during the day and then kick-the-can until our moms called us in at night. We worked too. I remember clearing brush and shovelling horse manure. We picked vegetables and fruit. We were busy from sun-up to well past sun-down and I don’t ever remember thinking about my body.

My body has walked through forests, climbed up and down mountains, swum in creeks, rivers, lakes and oceans. It has skied down mountains and across wide-open fields. It has been in every kind of high school sport tournament. It has thrown rocks and swept ice in bonspiels, it has paddled through white water and in an international dragon boat competition. (I have to qualify that last one, we weren’t at all competitive, we were dead last in every race, but we were there, in Hong Kong, with Canadian flags on our jerseys.) My body has grown, pushed out and nourished two human beings. It has stood in front of classrooms; teaching, wrangling, inspiring and sometimes infuriating students. It has walked on and off many theatre stages, embellishing characters with a look or a wiggle or hand motion. It has worn bell bottoms, mini-skirts, crop tops and bikinis. It has served me well for almost 57 years, even though injuries from my sporting past have left me with severe osteoarthritis in my left knee.

So, given all that, why don’t I see all that strength, resilience and beauty when I look in a mirror? I see it in others. When I look at a woman I don’t see her size, I see her. I see the sparkle in her eyes, her smile, her style and her spirit. I remember watching a young woman in Mexico. She was rocking a 50s style two piece bathing suit. She was frolicking in the pool at our resort with her young man. She did not have a model’s body and she was beautiful – confident and sexy as hell. She had curves and rolls and wiggly bits and she was amazing. However, my curves and rolls and wiggly bits don’t evoke the same response in me. Why is that? How can we be so accepting of others and so judgemental about ourselves? I have a scale but I don’t use it that often. I store it under the bed. Some mornings I will pull it out and step on it buck naked. If the number is down, I rejoice. If it’s up, I feel worthless and ashamed. And then what happens? My self-confidence plummets and I eat, which makes me feel more worthless and ashamed. However, through all of this, my clothes still fit and I look exactly the same, because really, a couple of pounds don’t make that much of a difference, except in my head.

I remember having a conversation with a friend. She mentioned how proud she was of Whatshername for losing all that weight. I said I hadn’t noticed. My friend looked at me with surprise, how could I not have noticed, it was so obvious. Another time another friend commented on how Whatshisname had gained weight. Again, I hadn’t noticed. I see my friends, not their weight. Changes in hairstyles register with me, new glasses, new clothes, but changes in weight, nope. Not unless the change is really dramatic. I remember seeing a friend I hadn’t seen in about a year and a half who had lost a lot of weight. He didn’t look great to me, he looked sick. I was so worried about him, afraid he was going to tell me he had cancer or some other life-threatening disease. But if you lose or gain 20 pounds, I’m not going to notice. I had a conversation with someone at a theatre once. She was complaining about her weight. We were about the same height, and she said she would love to have my body, my shape, not hers. When she mentioned her weight I was floored. I was heavier than she was, but she couldn’t see that. When I told her, she didn’t believe me.

Perception is reality. If you perceive it, you believe it. You think you’re fat and you’re fat. No one can convince you otherwise. But luckily the opposite is true, if you think you’re fantastic you are. Nothing is more flattering, more sexy, more appealing than confidence. I think we are winning the fight over body image. Models come in many sizes and ages now. We know that thin doesn’t mean fit and fat doesn’t mean unhealthy. We celebrate all women, all body types. We call out people who body-shame women, but we don’t give ourselves the same respect. I have a friend who won’t buy anything but dark pants. She is beautiful and stylish and classy, and she thinks light coloured pants make her look fat. She isn’t fat, not in anyone’s world, but she will never even try on light coloured pants because of what she perceives about her body.

I am trying to change my mindset about my body. I do yoga every morning. I feel my body moving into and holding poses. I push myself to move deeper into the poses, to build my strength and flexibility. I try to get out every day, walking to the park or taking a bike ride. My knee hinders my speed so I don’t work up a sweat, but I’m out, moving and that makes me feel better. My body isn’t going to change much from this, but my mind will. I will feel more positive about it and so I won’t need to push down that negative body image with the cookies in the cupboard. And that will change my body.