Some noticings during my first week of giving up "beauty sickness" for Lent:
Thursday night we ordered wood-fired pizza from our favorite local spot.
My husband (whose permission I have to tell this story) crisps the crust in our cast iron pan while I whip up a salad.
We have this meal down to a science.
We sat down to watch Netflix and enjoy our meal.
Soon, there was only one piece of pizza left.
My husband turned to me and said: "Do you ever feel like you don't get your fair share of the pizza?"
I looked over at him, curious. "What do you mean?" I said. "Do you feel like I ate more than I should have?"
Grinning at me, he said, "Yea. Yea I do!"
I think he expected me to laugh and apologize.
Instead I said, "Well go crisp up some more, friend! You know how to do it! Don't shame me about eating delicious pizza! We still have an entire pie in the kitchen."
I was dead serious and angry.
He knew what I had been reading and writing about. He knew what my deepest struggles are around food and weight and eating and such. He knew I had given up beauty sickness for Lent.
And yet, there it was: The assumption that the "little lady" should eat less than the man.
I was HUNGRY. And I had eaten until I was full.
It was fantastic and so satisfying and delicious and delightful. I was thoroughly enjoying my new Lenten fast!
After I cooled down a bit we talked about this interaction. We are even laughing about it now. It will become a running joke between us.
Here's the moral of this story:
In order to succesfully pull a weed, you gotta' make sure you get the root.
The roots of female beauty sickness are deep.
They are a part of ALL of us, men and women. And they are everywhere.
In every interaction, it seems.
Even in the simple act of eating pizza with your favorite person on a Thursday night.