Why as Young Women are we Never Happy with Our Bodies when they"re so Beautiful

Nicky Young, heroine in Shadow Heart hates her body. She only wants to fit in, and she doesn’t, often getting looks from older men because of the curves of her body and a face that looks twenty-one. She struggles with insecurity and fears that relationships will only be temporary, even with her closest friends.  Finally, she feels like she’s met women she can trust, two that are wives of the players on the professional baseball team, The San Francisco Goliaths.

We join them as they talk before the game and Nicky begins the conversation.

When we look back we see how beautiful we were all along

“Boys are too much of a risk,” I said. “I don’t want to take a chance. Ryan’s still looking over here. With all he has lining up at the ballpark, I wonder who in the world . . .”

I turned to see if a stunning woman sat behind me at whom he might be looking. When I saw only families, and groups of boys and men sitting there, I became nervous.

“God, I hate my body, you guys.” I said.

“Nicky, there’s nothing wrong with your body,” Tara laughed. “Don’t worry so much.”

“I’m bigger than all my friends,” I said, continuing to discuss my insecurities. “When I sleep over I can’t use anybody’s stuff. I’m screwed if I don’t have something of my own.”

Although I was told I was attractive and had a face that made me look like a young woman in her early twenties, I didn’t have confidence in my looks. My brain interpreted those statements to mean, “because of your body, you don’t look like the others. You don’t fit in.”

At seventeen, all I wanted was to fit in. As a child who was raised in a family battling addiction, I was tired of having to handle things differently.

“Your body is beautiful, Nicky, just like you are,” Tara said. “Just enjoy yourself and don’t worry about it. That’s what girls do and it’s ridiculous. You’ll look back in a few years and see you had nothing to worry about.”

“It’s true,” Alex agreed. “Nicky, I understand your feelings, but in a few years you’ll be happy you have the body you do. Even though your friends tease you now, you may not believe me, but they’d love to trade places.”

“They make fun of me all the time,” I said. “I try to cover myself but it all just sticks out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tara said. “It’s not only teenagers who poke fun when they don’t know how to deal with things. That’s called fear, and it’s covered in jealousy, honey.”

“And um, I’m sorry but there’s no covering up those things,” Alex said looking at my boobs and my butt. “I’m afraid you’re stuck.”

“Thanks you guys, I feel so much better.” I rolled my eyes sarcastically. Each woman gave me a hug, and then Tara patted my leg and said, “You’ll grow into yourself, sweetie. You have the beauty of a young woman, and the smarts of someone who’s older. You know all the wives were given copies of your business plan, don’t you?”

* Now that you look back, don’t you see your body was beautiful?

* How can we help young men and women understand they’re wonderful as they are?

* Can Nicky, who has grown up in a family battling alcoholism, ever have the confidence she needs to form close relationships?

Why as Young Women are we Never Happy with Our Bodies when they"re so Beautiful

Intimacy-how can I get it? What conversations do I need to have?

“You don’t date?” Alex asked, once again joining Tara and me sitting in the bleachers.

“No,” I said.

“Why ever not,” she asked.

I was ridiculously naïve and socially backward in so many ways. Being raised in an alcoholic family can do that. It was better to hide away and shut down rather than feel the extreme joy or intense pain of life.

Like most of us, I had learned from what my parents taught by how they relate to one another.

How soft are they?

Do they reach for each other’s hand?

Are their kisses open and frequent?

Do they hold the door open for each other?

Are their faces or eyes soft when they look or talk to each other? What about their terms of endearment? I never heard “my love,

honey, dear, sweetie,” or any other pet name.

What I saw, was that my mother had opened her heart to a man, and

in doing so, said, “I trust you” in every way.

She believed a promise of everything better in my father, who at the time was newly returned from serving in the army and beginning his career as a streetcar driver. Mom saw a light in his eyes and was attracted to his sense of humor and carefree spirit. It was an innocence she didn’t experience as a young girl.

What were the examples of a relationship growing up?

They met through a friend who introduced them when my mom had just moved to San Francisco. My father fell in love with the strong woman she seemed to be; so much so, that they committed to each other in every way—to marry, make a life, and have children.

Who knows what went wrong, but ultimately their love was crushed and their hearts were broken. Neither of them made time for each other, or remained tender. They closed their doors and windows and became hard.

A diseased man pushed her and hit her and told her by his love for the bottle, that she wasn’t good enough. Mom wasn’t even second best. His friends at the bar stood in that place.

So for me, the lesson from my parents taught me to shut down, never let anyone in, and especially when it came to a boy, keep my heart closed. Being someone’s girlfriend or wife meant abuse and being a second choice.

To make sure I didn’t have to battle those traumas, I held my sword at my side, ready to slice them from my life as soon as I felt threatened. I didn’t give anyone a chance to explain if I felt wronged.

It was all about trust—or more accurately—the lack of it, and discus- sions such as these are what brought Tara, Alex, and me close together as girlfriends.

Intimacy-how can I get it? What conversations do I need to have?

My Sister was Raped

IN THIS SCENE IN SHADOW HEART NICKY YOUNG REFLECTS BACK TO WHEN HER SISTER WAS RAPED, AND HOW IT CONVINCED HER THAT FLIRTING OR SHOWING YOURSELF WITH REVEALING CLOTHES LEADS TO VIOLENCE AND SHAME.

The day my sister’s life changed forever, I came home from school at the usual time.

She was generally a few hours behind me, hanging back and talking with friends, having a soda or the occasional beer and doing the other things that occupied the lives of teenage girls.

So when she was late, no one really gave it a second thought. That was until dinner came and went and she hadn’t called.

My father was drunk, of course, and without his sparring partner at the table, he ate dinner quietly. Maybe somewhere under his numb- ness, he knew, because without any words, he went up to bed and left my mother alone to handle it.

Our parents bought my sister a cell phone so they could reach her, and she them. But that day Jenise didn’t answer. By the way my mother began cleaning the house instead of reading her romance novels, I knew something was very wrong.

“Did you hear from Jenise today?” Mom finally asked me.

“No, I came right home from school and then went up to my room to study,” I said. “Have you phoned her friends? I have some of their numbers if you don’t. She’s friends with Patty’s sister.”

“I’ve called them all,” my mom said. “As far as they knew she was coming right home.”

A sinking feeling filled my body, and I’m sure my mother’s heart crashed into her stomach. I imagined she was walking her fence, trying to decide whether to call the police, go look for her, or stay put.

In a way, she was trapped. She knew my father couldn’t help and as much as she probably wanted to do something instead of sitting and waiting, she couldn’t. If she went to look for her and Jenise called, I’d be alone with a parent who was drunk and couldn’t help.

I did the dishes, and then sat in the living room watching something on TV, eating a bowl of ice cream with my mom.

At about 9 p.m., Jenise walked through the door. Her clothes weren’t quite right, and the color was drained from her face. Her eyes were distant and the first thought that crossed my mind was, “She looks dead.”  – Continued

PLEASE JOIN IN THE DISCUSSION AT WWW.PAMELATAEUFFER.COM AT MY BLOG SITE:

Have you or anyone in your family been raped?

What kind of feelings did you have? Why were you ashamed, if you were?

Why do we or does the legal system or society blame women or question what they did to bring it on?

 

My Sister was Raped