desperate measures

I used to sometimes envy the girls with eating disorders.

Why?

Because while I regularly complained about my body and how I looked, they were actually doing something to change theirs. 

Crazy, right? 

I sometimes thought that if I had enough discipline I’d work out way more, or I’d stop eating as much and I’d suddenly look the way that I always dreamed of.  The problem was that I loved food and I hated working out for the sole sake of working out.  The side effects of the binge & purge deterred me to not make that an option either. 

Spring semester of my sophomore year of college was a pretty low point for me though.  I was determined to shape up after the new year and found myself with a sprained ankle from my first run and then a torn calf muscle a few weeks later. I was frustrated with myself and the Lord.

I remember crying a lot that semester, and I remember my roommate and suitemates having no idea how to help me.  I was inconsolable.  I remember going into our joint bathroom one night and locking the doors—it was the only place I could get alone quickly.  I remember falling onto the cold tile, determined to DO something different so I would feel better about myself.  I remember trying to gag myself.  I was weeping as silently as I could, sticking my finger down my throat…and as I failed to bring anything up, I remember feeling like I was a failure at that, too. 

One of my co-workers spoke to our staff about identity in Christ this past summer and a simple statement of his has stuck with me ever since. He said, “Some people think that what they look like actually matters”…and he said it with a hint of mockery in his voice.  At first I was appalled and I wanted to fight back.. “well, of course it matters…” and as I thought more about it, my argument tapered into…nothing. 

It really doesn’t matter.

And yet we spend so much of our time and energy fighting against how we were created and the natural progression of how our bodies change and develop over time…I’d venture to say we are obsessed with it. 

What if we let it go and spent our time and energy (and probably money) on things that held eternal value instead?

Be healthy, YES…but don’t become so obsessed with your appearance and yourself that you forget there are other people in the world who could use a friend like you.  There are other people that could benefit from your time, your energy, your money, your love, your joy, your hope.

‘Cause they matter.  Their soul matters.

Much more than your hair, or your make up, or your flat stomach, or your firm butt...and trust me, none of these things are going to cause the guy you want to like you to actually like you (and if they do, you don't want him).  

Let’s all get over ourselves and learn to truly love others… at the cost of our outward image.  

And may we find a deeper, more authentic beauty than anything we can conjure up on the outside.

* * *

Send in your own stories of something you have done, thought, or said that might be a bit 'crazy'... Send in your own questions and struggles. 

Let's bring light to the darkness, truth to the lies, and hope to the hopeless.  

You're not alone.  

Submit Your Stories/Questions/Struggles Here

Your stories will remain anonymous.