It’s time for a confession. And it’s about my chin.
Y’all, I hate my chin.
You don’t see my chin, you out there in internet world. I know you don’t see it because I carefully curate each and every photo of myself before I even dream of posting it here.
And I’m acutely aware of all the tips and tricks to make oneself appear thinner on camera. It’s all about angles and perspective and lighting. And makeup. And a little tweaking on PicMonkey.
I’m downright obsessed with my chin.
It’s not even that bad if you look at me straight on, but if I were to turn so you could see my profile. . . well, I won’t be letting that happen anytime soon.
Of course, lots of my readers know me in person. So there’s that. (Please don’t stare awkwardly at my chin next time you see me, K? I realize I’ve made it hard, though, by talking about incessantly about it already. Gah! Now of course you’re going to want to examine my chin. . .)
The Problem With My Chin
I think I’ve turned this chin thing into a golden calf or something. I can’t go an entire day without thinking about my chin, and it’s tearing me up inside!
At least I can cover up my thighs and my stomach, but it’s not like I can wear turtlenecks all year to cover up my chin. I live in Texas, after all!
I need to lose some weight. I’ve been trying, but let’s be honest. My metabolism basically shut down when I turned 45, and ever since then it’s been next to impossible to get the scale to budge. . . well, at least in the direction I want it to.
This year is my 30th high school reunion. I haven’t bought tickets yet, because if I don’t commit, I can always decide to back out like I did for the 20th. I wouldn’t want old high school friends talking about my wattle, for crying out loud!
Even though — and let’s think about this realistically — how many 47-year olds don’t have some sort of neck and chin issues going on? How many of us don’t have extra weight hanging around that we’d like to lose? How many of us don’t have wrinkles and dimples and other — ahem — issues that we didn’t have 20 years ago?
Jennifer Aniston, I’m looking at you. Quit making the rest of us look so dumpy.
- I know I’m being ridiculous.
- I know I need to let it go.
- I know I can take steps to get more physically fit and lose some weight, if that’s what I really want.
Yikes, though. I sure do I need some help with it.
Here’s the real kicker: I do NOT make these kinds of judgments toward other people. I don’t go around staring at people’s chins and necks and other body parts. I don’t carve them up mentally and examine every flaw the way I do with my own body.
In general, I tend to notice the beauty in other people. Probably even more than the average person.
But I am downright brutal with myself.
I read a blog post by Elizabeth Esther this week in which she talked about her arms the way I talk about my chin. And it resonated with me so much, because of this: I need to be at least half as gentle with myself as other people are with me.
The people who love me don’t look at my chin with disgust. My friends aren’t judging me by how I look. They see the whole picture, all the lovable parts that come together to make a whole, unique, and genuine person.
What if I could love my own body half that much?
As Elizabeth Esther says,
What if we said ‘I love you’ to the least favorite part of ourselves? What if we just radically accepted ourselves for who we are right here right now?”
It sounds like a fantastic idea. If I only had the foggiest idea how to get there.
Learning to See Ourselves the Way Others Do
Perhaps getting this topic out there is a good start.
Maybe if we can be honest with one another, if we can talk about how we perceive ourselves, how we look at ourselves with too critical an eye, then maybe . . . just maybe. . . we can begin to dispel the obsession.
The mental glasses I wear when I look at myself, well, they magnify every flaw and imperfection. What if I could put on love-goggles instead? What if I could be more like my own daughter, and see the beauty in everything — even my own body?