Playboy and Body Image

I've started Weight Watchers for the third time now. I was sitting on the bed and happened to glance over and caught a reflection of myself in the mirror. I looked like a frumpy toad. I said, "Okay, here we go again."

I like Weight Watchers because nothing is off limits. I just have to decide if I REALLY want it (points and all), and when I'm in the right mind-set, I do quite well. Matter of fact, the first time I joined, I was within eleven pounds of my goal weight. I thought I could do it myself, but I guess having to go in and have someone else know my weight is my big motivator. Whatever works. This is my third week. They (haven't figured out who "they" are yet) say that something becomes a habit after twenty-one days. I disagree. I give up biting my nails for Lent, but...I've been on Weight Watchers now for twenty-one days and I would still rather have a Krispy Kreme doughnut instead of an apple...

But sometimes I want to take the easy road out and blame my weight issues on my dad. He's been a subscriber to Playboy for most of my life (a little detour when he married the evil witch - but that's a whole other blogg). I think from a very early age, I was wrongly influenced about body image. Whenever my dad's magazine came in, I would always find the centerfold and look at her body measurements, thinking that was the way I needed to look. I must confess that MANY "I must, I must, I must increase my bust" exercises were in vain. Weird how I ab-so-lutely LOVED Barbie, but I never wanted to have her body. Also weird how good ol' Marilyn Monroe was in Playboy, and she was no size 2!!

I often hear the question, "Would you rather have beauty or brains?" I want brains, but I don't want to be compared to a slug either. Face it - it's all about confidence. If you want to wear that lycra, butt-hugging leopard print, you go, girl!