My 1995 New Year's resolution was to lose weight and get into shape. It's difficult to overcome the beauty images that I am bombarded with daily. Whenever I open a magazine, pictures of tall, skinny white women with flawless skin and zero body fat accost me. Even in magazines like Essence, Ebony and Emerge -- which focus on African Americans -- I rarely see a less than perfect face or body. I knew I was overweight when my clothes started to fit tighter. And tighter. I started avoiding my reflection in the bathroom mirror after showering. A simple walk across campus would leave me out of breath.
Since my girlfriend had just started one of those Cybergenic diets and was half-crazed with hunger, I decided to consult with a physician in order to diet the "right" way. She actually ate two ounces of meat a day -- the equivalent of two bites for me.
Physician number one, a thin Asian man, gave me a physical and said that my weight was normal.
I disagreed. I got a second opinion.
Physician number two, a medium-sized white woman said that I didn't need to lose weight. She said that for my height and body type -- medium-large boned -- my weight was normal.
They were both wrong. I was heavier than I had ever been in my life. Since I graduated from high school, I had gained 35 pounds and went from a size eight to size 12. This was normal? Finally, I decided to consult a nutritionist. She was a healthy African American woman who seemed just right to me -- not too small and not big. I wanted to look just like her.
After she completed her analysis, she told me the two other doctors said I was normal because my current weight wasn't dangerous to my health. What they failed to tell me was that if I continued my current lifestyle, I would put myself at higher risk for diabetes, stroke, coronary heart disease and hypertension -- all life-threatening problems which I already risk as an African-American woman.
I worked with a trainer to develop an aerobic work out. I began taking funk and step classes three times a week. I started drinking a gallon of water a day and snacked on fresh carrots and oranges instead of Ben & Jerry's chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And I stopped eating after 8 p.m.
But most importantly I learned to accept and appreciate my body in all of its phases.
In four months, I lost 24 pounds and slimmed down to a size ten. I know I look good and I feel great.
Rather than relying on weight tables or strangers, I decided to pay attention to my own physical and emotional health to determine whether I wanted or needed to lose weight.
I don't buy into the images of physical beauty perpetuated by the media. I accept that my body will never resemble Supermodel Iman. I see the beauty of my own body -- healthy.