A few weeks ago I was at a party talking with some new friends. I proudly raved about my young nephew’s beautiful eyes…a lovely hazel. One of the group looked into my eyes and commented, “You have some green in with the brown – are your eyes hazel too?”
I assured him that they were not. They have always been, and always will be, a plain brown. Curiosity nabbed me, however, and the next time I passed by a mirror I paused for a moment to study my reflection. And then I saw them…..tiny flecks of GREEN. Unmistakably.
That is when it occurred to me. A casual stranger at a dimly-lit party noticed that I have green in my eyes. Why haven’t I ever noticed that for myself?!?
On a recent episode of The View, Whoopi Goldberg stunned audiences with the revelation that 58% of women polled preferred to be diagnosed with cancer than get fat. I instantly wondered, “Are those their only two options?”
Frankly, even if those were their only two options, I wouldn’t have believed Whoopi’s report myself, save for one still-vivid memory.
My mother’s best friend died of recurring breast cancer a few years ago. A slight woman to begin with, the chemotherapy slimmed her down even further. Several months before she passed, we encountered each other at a party Mom threw in her honor. She took one look at me and let out a deep sigh. “You are so THIN!” she said…clearly envious.
I looked at her and said not one word. She was twice as small as I had remembered her to be. But she couldn’t see it. Furthermore, she had distilled the essence of battling her soon-to-be fatal disease down to one pivotal point….how thin she could get as a result of it. Here was a woman with a loving husband and daughters, many great friends, and a rich and fulfilling life. Yet it seemed all she could move herself to care about, even at such a critical juncture, was getting thinner.
Furthermore, when she spoke those words to me, she already knew that I had recovered from an excruciating fifteen-year battle with anorexia and bulimia. Maybe it was the insensitivity that rankled most.
So now, in her honor, I would like to propose an Option C to add to Whoopi’s embarrassingly slim list. Option C is this – we, the body-liberated recover-ees, choose neither Option A or Option B – because we know we have other, better choices!
We choose Option C because we know we have so much more in our lives worth living for than a number on the scale. We choose Option C because, if we were dying of cancer, losing weight wouldn’t be the thing we would miss when we were gone. We choose Option C because, in our recovery, we acknowledge that the mental illness we suffer with thinks any weight above zero pounds qualifies as ‘fat’…and we also know that is not true! Finally, we choose Option C because we know that, when in the grips of our disease, we wouldn’t know ‘fat’ if it tripped us on the street!
I have green in my brown eyes. What else about me have I never noticed – never marveled at – never enjoyed – due to my preoccupation with food, eating and weight? What else have I missed out on in my own life because I refused to come out of the bedroom until I found something to wear that didn’t make me look ‘fat’? Who could I have met, what could I have enjoyed, if I had not been sick or faint or weary from battling hunger, or loneliness, or low self-esteem?
How many years could I have spent in joy, laughter, hope and love if I had not been wasting away my own days for lack of a certain number on a scale?
What about you?
What color are your eyes?
Isn’t it about time you found out?
Warmly and with HOPE,
Shannon
