Dr. Martha talks about shaming women about their appearance, a thing that seems timeless. Did your mother preach modesty or let you choose what you wore? Here's an excerpt from Catholic Daughters of Catholic Mothers and one of Dr. Martha's experiences on the topic from when she was growing up.
Modesty and shame. Strangely, I think they go together or at least have gone together in my life. My mother’s focus on modesty created a body image problem that still haunts me to this day. I can never be thin enough. Thank God that never translated into an eating disorder. It’s just a daily worry about being fat: criticizing my body, wondering if I can weigh less, and distressing about ballooning into a fat blimp in a flash. One day I have a waist and the next I’m 100 pounds overweight. Kind of like what I said about my mother previously, having a waist after she had my youngest brother and then, before my eyes, she was fat. That’s what I have told myself for more than 50 years. Intellectually, I know she didn’t become overweight overnight, but the story I’ve told myself is exactly that. It happened in the blink of an eye. And so, I believe it can happen to me. The scale will just keep going up, and I won’t be able to stop it. I must be vigilant. I was 10 years old when mom had a waist. After that, all I remember is the overweight body. The body hidden in tent dresses.
There’s a sense of shame in all things body related. But it’s more than just shameful if I wear too short a skirt, or too low-cut a blouse, or too sexy a dress, or no bra in public. The not wearing a bra thing. You know why that will never happen, me being in public without a bra? Because when I was about 16 years old in the days of burning bras, I went to work one day without a bra. It just so happened that Mom came to the mall that day, saw me without a bra on, and made me ask my boss for a break so I could go buy a bra. Yep. That was her response. Not “Martha! Don’t ever go out again without wearing a bra. And by the way, you’re grounded for a week.” Nope. It’s always black or white… good or bad. She made me buy a bra and put it on before I went back to work. And I still think about that episode of our life together. God, I hope I never made my girls feel that way, embarrassed and terrible about not wearing a piece of underwear. And the why of it. Why do I have to wear a bra? Because men, disgusting men, will see me as a sex object? Will going braless make me want to have sex? Are nipples a body part to be hidden? Will people think I’m a slut? Mom never explained why all those thoughts are in my mind when I don’t wear a bra. God forbid our handyman should show up one day when I’m casual at home without a bra on. What would he think? “That’s ridiculous,” my intellectual brain says, but my rat brain says, “Don’t do it.”
How did your mother talk to you about your body if she talked to you about it all?
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