Boys and Body Image

Not too long ago I posted about BFAR and body image for the Body Image Carnival hosted by Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! and MamanADroit. It was such a wonderful experience to share my story, and to read the stories of other women & their body image experiences.

The issue of body image plagues all women it seams. Not surprising in a society that equates beauty & sexuality with worth, and then defines that beauty & sexuality with an airbrush.

But what about men?

My little man is barely aware that he and I are two separate people, so I doubt that he's overly concerned with how he measures up to the rolly-polly blond haired blue eyed happy squealing babies on TV. But the experience of reflecting on my body image lead me to thinking about what body image will mean to my son in the future.

Naturally I asked my partner. 'When young boys see pictures of hulking muscle men with shiny abs and bulging pecks, does it make them feel not good enough?'

He doesn't seam to think so. Or at least, he doesn't remember having those kinds of feelings, or comparing himself to any masculine ideals as a child.

I am a little skeptical. Women aren't the only ones whose bodies are idealized, skewed, and misrepresented in the media. So why would women be the only ones feeling shamed and pressured by those images?

I don't believe that we are the only ones, so why isn't their more talk about the ideal of masculinity that is being marketed to our boys, and the effects that these images have on them?

I am well aware of the behaviour that will be modeled to my son by the media. I find myself determined, if a little daunted, to raise a peaceful and respectful boy who treats women and all beings with kindness and mindfulness despite the fact that every TV show, album, toy, and game marketed to him will be working against me. Even so, until recently I hadn't really thought about how the marketing of masculinity would effect how he feels about his body.

Will he see the barrel chested and over-muscled features of super heroes and action figures as something to aspire to? Will he compare himself with eerily hairless square jawed billboard models?

I expect that he might, and I am unsure of how to prevent, or deal with any self image problems that may arise from the media's version of what it is to be male.

Is guiding a son through all of these unrealistic messages about body and behaviour the same as guiding a daughter?

How does one help any child, male or female, find their way through the muddied waters of gender and body image?

Wordless Wednesday: Fun In The Sun

What I Want For Mother's Day

This Sunday will be my first mother’s day.

Last mother’s day I was swollen and irritable and out of my mind with nausea and fatigue, and working my ass off building a tiny human in my womb, but for some reason that didn't count.

So Sunday will be my first mother's day. To be honest I am not sure how to feel about it. There is a part of me shying away from the attention and sentiment.

I spent 38 weeks sustaining a life within me, and 7 months now sustaining that same life outside of my womb. I feel like a super star. I feel powerful, capable, and female. I appreciate having a day marked on the calendar for everyone else to recognize all of those wonderful things.

But more than all those things I just feel tired. I feel lost and stretched thin. Worst of all I feel guilty for feeling that way. That's right; I said it, guilty, the most common cliché in the mom-verse.

There is no other word for it though. When my partner asked me last week how I would like to celebrate mother's day I didn't imagine spending the day basking in the loving glow of my family appreciating the shit out of me. My first thought was to ditch the kid and spend a few hours as far away from the word mother as I could get and just be my own sovereign being for a while.

I almost followed that up with the statement 'don't get me wrong, I love my family'. I caught myself though; I refuse to buy into the ridiculous idea that being tired means I don't love my family. Being frustrated and exhausted doesn't make me a bad mother, or a bad wife. I do know that.

I do not feel guilty because of some misguided idea that loving my family means having to like them 100% of the time. I know better than that.

It's the pressure of the day that's bothering me I think. It's MOTHER'S day, and on a day set aside specifically for others to celebrate and appreciate my motherhood, shouldn't I be appreciating it too?

On Sunday while I am eating my special mother's day breakfast, and reading my cheesy mother's day card and participating in whatever other activities my family has planned for me. I will be feeling tired and guilty because they are so wonderful and thoughtful, and all I want to do is run away and hide for an afternoon of quiet solitude.

Wordless Wednesday: That Baby's High on Life!

Culinary Countdown to Summer - Lemmon Blueberry Cake

I think I got this recipe out of a magazine... I don't exactly remember, maybe Canadian living or some other such thing that was at my doctor's office. I DO know that it's delicious and really easy to make! Which is huge for me because while I am really into eating cakes, I am not overly fond of making them.

You will need:

1 cup fine cornmeal
1 cup flower
1/4 cup sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 lemon
1 cup yogurt
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup honey
2 eggs
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup frozen (or fresh I guess if you've got them around!) blueberries

Preheat oven to 375 and oil 9 inch round cake pan.

Whisk together dry ingredients and set aside 2 tbsp of it.

In another bowl zest lemon and add wet ingredients.

Fold together wet and dry ingredients and pour batter into your cake pan.

Coat frozen berries in that extra 2TBSP of dry ingredients you left laying around.

Then gently fold berries into cake batter. If you want to be all Martha about it and make it look nice you could deliberately place and submerge the berries... But I think it's weird when food looks all deliberate like that so I don't!

Bake 35 to 45 min... You know, till it's done.