Strange Condition

Strange Condition is one of my favorite Pete Yorn songs. Ironically, it was in the middle of him performing that song at the Fillmore recently that I realized I was suffering from a strange condition myself – otherwise known as poor self-esteem.

Heather had an extra ticket to the Pete Yorn concert and invited me to join her. It had been months since I last saw my friend and as we have similar musical tastes, I knew we'd be in for a fun evening. Plus, I love the Fillmore. It is by far one of San Francisco's greatest musical venues, not only for its intimacy, but for the history. From the framed concert photos lining the walls, to the crystal chandeliers in the main room, the place just channels the ghosts of Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jerry Garcia. I have seen many shows at the Fillmore, and I've never been disappointed.

Still, no one told me I was going to have to hold my gut in all night.

The reasoning behind my self-induced tummy tucking was the presence of a video crew recording the concert that evening. At one point in Pete Yorn's set, I heard Heather mumble something in my general direction. I leaned in closer as I couldn’t understand what she was trying to communicate, only to hear her mumble again. On the third attempt, I realize she’s attempting to speak without moving her lips, not unlike a ventriloquist, warning me we were both on camera.

Upon realizing they are being photographed, most people will ham it up for the camera, smile, or even try to look extra cool. I took the route of looking directly at the camera, wide-eyed, and exclaiming in horror, "OH SHIT!"

It wasn't being on camera that bugged me, it was my appearance. It had been a stressful day at work. I was so late meeting Heather that evening, I didn’t have time to put make-up on, my hair was a wreck, and the outfit I had on wasn’t my most flattering to my waistline. I didn't exactly want to be immortalized on a concert video looking like a sausage.

I have been suffering from a weight image problem my entire life. I refer to most of my childhood as the Butterball years. It wasn't until junior high where I grew about four inches in a summer that I lost much of the baby fat. Still I've always had a gut, even when I was super sick in college, and dropped to a scary 110 lbs. That isn't much weight for a woman who is almost 5'9 feet tall. I found it ironic to be able to count my ribs but still have a pooch.

Last year I became obsessed with losing my belly. I hired a personal trainer, did pilates 3-5 days a week, and started kicking up my cardio with hikes in the hills behind my house. I never got rock hard abs and it was frustrating, although I felt healthy and people went out of their way to say I looked great.

Since I tore my labrum in August, the weight issue has only gotten worse for me. Six months of serious inactivity has made me lose the muscle I had built up. Cellulite has returned. Lately, my self-image assessment has ranged from feeling repulsive to pathetic. I've actually lost over ten pounds since the injury, mostly muscle, but the biggest loss has come at the price of my confidence and self-esteem.

As the video crew moved away from us, an overwhelming wave of sadness struck me. I realized right then just how bad I had let my self-esteem issue become. I hate the person I’ve become - pitiful has never been my strong trait. I’ve got to figure out a way to like me, faults and all.

Most women will tell you they hate their bodies. We are constantly bombarded by images of what the media and society dictate as female physical perfection. For most women, these looks are unobtainable. Still how many women do we know who torture ourselves for not having Jessica Biel’s body, Halle Berry’s stunning looks, or Eva Longoria’s sexiness?

It is unfair to hold myself to those standards anymore. I don’t have the means or the time to work out four hours a day with a personal trainer to get rock solid abs. I don’t have a stylist choosing the right clothes to fit my curves, or a hair stylist making every lock fall perfectly in place. Truly, all I can do is start believing in myself again – once the confidence returns, the rest will eventually follow.

My self-image insecurities won’t be fixed overnight. There will be good days and bad days ahead. I know as I start resuming exercise, I’ll start feeling better physically. The emotional aspects are much harder to mend. I look forward to rebuilding my inner confidence so the next time I’m caught off-guard by a camera, instead of feeling ashamed and wanting to hide, I’ll be proud of the person staring into the lens.