(Originally appeared in Sense and Psychotherapy, Spring 2000)

I remember seeing pictures of my grandmother when she was in her 40’s and 50’s. One in particular stays with me: my grandma standing outside a small house, her summer dress gently blowing in the breeze, a big smile on her face. She was by no measure a glamorous or sophisticated woman, but in this image she is beautiful. She was strong, physically robust, ready for life’s challenges. I think this picture has stayed with me for so long, because my memories of her during the years I knew her are of a tiny, fragile old woman. Health problems had whittled her away to a mere shadow of the confident, beaming woman I recall from the photograph.

Now, as I approach the age of my grandma in that memorable photo, I am re-examining how I look at myself. I am strong. I am healthy. I can go out and run four miles and still have energy to work in the garden for hours. Yet, this is a new, and not entirely stable image of my body. I can still go into a mall to buy new clothes and leave in tears because of what is reflected in the fitting room mirrors. In line at the grocery store, I see the women on the magazine covers looking out at me, and am flooded by deeply conflicting thoughts and emotions. At the same moment that I am repelled by the media’s portrayal of women, I feel I am unattractive because I will never look like that. My body is so far from the tall, skinny, perky-breasted women defined by our culture as beautiful that I am almost tempted to buy the mags to learn how I too can have a flat stomach in three easy weeks and still eat all my favorite foods.

I’d love to think my experiences were unusual, but almost every female over the age of 13 that I know struggles with the same body image issues. So much of our value as women has been traditionally defined by our appearance. I know of very few women who really like their bodies, are proud of them, and aren’t trying to change them in some way. I am saddened by how much energy we devote to fretting over the way we look, and wonder how much we could accomplish if we spent all that time, energy and money on our social, emotional, and intellectual selves.

Now, when I find myself scowling at my flesh in the mirror, I think about what I’ll look like in 20 or 30 years, and know that I’ll be wishing I had the strength, flexibility and stamina that I have at this time in my life. This is not an easy shift for me, but I am learning I can feel beautiful in the body I do have. I don’t need to have a Barbie-doll body to feel good about who I am. I am a real-live woman, with a real woman’s body, complete with flaws and imperfections, but those are part of what makes me me, and I am learning to appreciate, not despair at, how far my body is from the ‘ideal’. Recalling my grandma’s smile, I know she would agree.