Will We EVER Measure Up?

As I comb through the latest issue of one of my favorite magazines I sigh as I see all these perfect females with perfect hair, perfect smiles, perfects arms, perfect legs – heck, all-together perfect bodies staring back at me. And then it happens – I look in the mirror and think to myself, “Geez, I have GOT to get to the gym” or “what is the deal with my hair?” or “why was I born with these legs?” All of my body image issues seem to flare up and flood my brain all at once. And then the more rational, logical side of my brain kicks it into high gear and asks, “why in the world am I measuring MY body up against THEIR bodies?” Is there a contest I didn’t know about? Do I win something if my body is better than “hers”? Nope. However, there is some sort of physical hierarchy game that I think a lot of females play, knowingly or unknowingly. They rank themselves with other women by thinking, “well, I look better than Jen…but Holly’s hair is SO much better than mine!” Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we obsess over our bodies? I think these fashion/style magazines could be having a negative effect on our self-image. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE to look at all the new trends that are coming out – love to get inspired by an outfit someone is wearing on one of the pages; but I have vowed to try to view these images for what they are – IMAGES, better yet, most are PHOTO-SHOPPED images! How can we measure up to perfection? Answer: We can’t. All I can do is be the best ME…all you can do is be the best YOU. So stop obsessing! You are beautiful just as you are!

I came across this article that reinforces these ideas…what do you think? Am I reading into this issue too much? Would love to hear your thoughts!

A passage from the book of Psalms that I always find inspirational:

Oh yes, You shaped me first inside, then out;
You formed me in my mother’s womb.
I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!
Body and soul, I am marvelously made!
I worship in adoration—what a creation!
You know me inside and out,
You know every bone in my body;
You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,
how I was sculpted from nothing into something.
Like an open book, You watched me grow from conception to birth;
all the stages of my life were spread out before you,
The days of my life all prepared
before I’d even lived one day.