What My Grandmother is Teaching Me About Self-Acceptance

Recently my grandmother, who is almost 96, told me she had lost some weight. This, of course, is worrisome for someone who is approaching the 100-year mark. But then she told me something that made my jaw drop. She confided in me that she’d like to lose a little more.

Oh no! I thought. You mean I’ll still be working on my bikini body when I become a centenarian? Does it ever stop? Apparently not.

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My grandmother has always been delightfully round and soft in the best way a grandma should be. At 4 feet and pocket change, she is an adorable package. Her little extra padding has only meant that she has largely eluded wrinkles for most of her nearly 100 years of life.

It’s important to be healthy and I do try and take care of myself, but even at my tiniest, I still felt like I should be smaller.

But hearing her say that she hoped to lose more weight hit like a sucker punch to my less than washboard abs. Born in 1922, she arrived on the planet just a handful of years after women got the right to vote in Canada. Most people were beginning to have electricity in their homes and owning an automobile was a still a relatively recent phenomenon. That’s a long time to be worrying about slimming down.

It made me think about how we women spend so much of our time and energy working on ourselves. The quest for self-improvement is drilled into us at every turn. If we can just eat better we’ll be thinner; if we find time to exercise we’ll be fitter; buy the right shampoo our hair will have more body. The messages that keep coming are telling us that we don’t measure up.

I have been working to lose 5-10 pounds most of adult my life. It’s important to be healthy and I do try and take care of myself, but even at my tiniest, I still felt like I should be smaller. When I look back at pictures of my younger self, I can’t help wonder why I couldn’t see that I looked just fine? Why did I waste my time worrying that I could do better?

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One thing I know is that I don’t want to spend the next half-century feeling like I’m not good enough. And I certainly don’t want to pass that legacy down to my own daughter. I’d rather she’d work on her own happiness, expanding her mind and being kind to others instead of spending a generation wondering if her butt is too big or not big enough. And I fear that it might be all the more difficult given the selfie-culture that she is growing up in.

My grandmother is losing weight because she is getting old. It’s hard to see my plump Nana fade away. But it does remind me how easy it is to dismiss the part of ourselves that others cherish.

If I’m lucky enough to live to be 96, I plan to cut myself a little slack. I hope I’ll appreciate everything this imperfect body has given me. Maybe even in a bikini. On the beach. Eating a big slice of cake.