"wifeable" bodies

on bodies for consumption and other distractions from the enemy

I almost lost my mind this week. Not in a metaphorical sense, but truly, fully so. At least that’s what it felt like. Losing one’s mind in the kind of way where you feel you’re only as lovable as the little space you take up.

I’ve had this question floating around my mind for the last couple of months or so: What is a wifeable body? Who deserves love? Who gets to be loved?

I reflect on my experience, think hard about the girls my guy friends are interested in, collecting data from field research on social media, all trying to define what is the body that gets wifed? I emphasize “wifed” for a good reason.

As a midsized/plus-size woman, I have spent a good portion of my adult life familiar with the trend of larger women being desired behind closed doors. Hearing stories of bigger women only being appreciated in the bedroom, but to avoid being shamed by his friends or to be respected as the most important guy in the room, the slim woman gets the ring instead whether the bigger woman was actually what he wanted or not. Both bodies were used as pawns in his game for power and respect.

In this situation, there are no winners, though it’s tempting to believe from the outside that the woman with the ring is the winner. Knowing this does not change the fact that it’s painful to consider that the frame you are in is worthy of a dalliance and lust, but shunned for commitment and love. And the truth is, from where I stand, I cannot tell if the thinner woman is being loved or not. But my default is to believe that she is. Because why wouldn’t she be, right?

It’s the tale as old as time. You log onto social media again and see a gorgeous celebrity being cheated on or abused in her relationship. The comments flood “How could he do that to her? She’s so pretty!” as if being unconventionally attractive is the permit society needs for mistreating someone.

We’re constantly feeding one another senseless narratives that keep one another bound.

And naturally, I want a solution. I posted a note here recently that says:

And not too long after, it sent me into a spiral.

I’ve heard it for years, and examined how a smaller body gets you picked. That is true in many cases. But the lie is that it gets you kept and loved well. But alas, even knowing that, I decided I was tired of believing that blindly and wanted to see for myself.

So I cut my calories, got in the gym often, and I started to see results in only a week. I became a woman obsessed. Looking in every mirror I passed in my home, consistently lifting my shirt and pivoting my core to see if somehow I managed to become someone’s dream girl in a week, if I had this true“wifeable body”. But what followed terrified me.

Every time I start a weight loss journey, I don’t last longer than a year. Sometimes, I’ll last a good month or two before I hit a place where I am happy, pleased with my body, and decide I’m done. Seldom am I truly after a lifestyle change. I’m usually just trying not to feel uncomfortable in my jeans anymore. And I have been someone who has to truly hate where they are to keep going — and I’ve never hated where I was enough to keep going long-term. Let alone hate myself.

Until recently.

Something in me snapped.

I had never been more unkind to myself.

Expecting unrealistic progress, I would body check in the mirror and curse myself for not shrinking faster. Quick to call myself undesirable and tell myself I’ll be unlovable so long as I’m in this body.

Thinking, look at who you know who is loved, look at who you know and what they want —none of it is you. Get smaller, smaller, smaller. And I welcomed the thought because I knew it was the only thing that would keep me going.

The gift of eating well and moving my body was absolutely under attack and perverted by the enemy. Something good, movement, and well eating became a weapon against me. The enemy truly does come to steal, kill, and destroy. But praise be to God that He comes to give life, and life abundantly (John 10:10).

I sat down today and realized that I was being plundered. Over a worthless and futile pursuit. I think about society’s view of the body of a woman as something to be consumed. Rhetoric surrounding our flesh that likens us to candy, sweets, decadent meals, and while that has a place and can even be romantic (hello, Song of Solomon), more times than not, it’s a means of objectification and reducing the female body to something primarily for the enjoyment and pleasure of men.

I realized I was just trying to become something to eat.

When I set out on this journey, it was not because I wanted to be so much healthier and get into wellness. It was simply because I was tired of not being wanted in the way I wanted. And the only solution seemed to be to become a delicacy.

But see the futility in this reasoning: get hot, be desired/lusted after by men, be approached by said men, open myself up to more sexual temptation than usual, fall in if I don’t flee, grow a hardened heart toward God.

The enemy has been trying to use me to destroy myself. Constantly worried about whether I’ll ever be someone’s type, someone worthwhile, worth pursuing, and constantly chasing the male gaze on a hamster wheel, all while just really opening myself up to places and situations the Lord doesn’t will for me.

See, the concept of a “wifeable body” is a distraction from the pit of hell. It reminds me of the whole "How do I get a bikini body” business, to which many women respond, “It’s whatever body you put in that bikini”. There is no true “wifeable body”. It is whatever body a wife has. It is a hard-fought battle to believe this, I’m finding.

And it’s truly no wonder that the world goes up in an uproar when a plus-sized woman is married happily and loved out loud. We bought the lie that the more space you take up, the less desirable you are, and it’s a slap in the face to the ideology we’ve been indoctrinated with — that smaller deserves love.

I started to achieve what the world told me that I should, and on their terms, and quickly became the most depressed, self-hating, exhausted, and fruitless version of myself, and realized — it is all vanity.

All the clichés are true. Getting “hot” doesn’t guarantee you love. Love and lust are opposites, and lust means nothing in the long run but trouble for your soul.

For the love of everything good, pursue wellness for wellness's sake and to honor the temple of God. Eat a Triple Dipper with your friends and don’t worry about becoming a meal for another person.

When you are loved, you will be loved. And it won’t be because your body is “wifeable”.

With love,

Rebecca