Uncategorized

It took me developing a very serious and dangerous eating disorder in my junior year of college to discover that I have a knack for comedy.

As women, we are fed the message from a very young age that we should not take up too much space in this world. I mean that literally and figuratively. Watch your figure; do not be too needy, too emotional, too sexual, too loud, or (god forbid) too angry. This is taught to us directly and through millions of indirect messages all around us.

And should your break these rules, you will be labeled as unattractive, over-bearing, shrill, slutty, hysterical, and—my personal nightmare—“too much”. It’s a highly effective way of shaming women and shutting them up and it’s employed by men and women alike.

I have been a very emotional, expressive, and sensual person from the moment I was born. And I began receiving the message that I should be ashamed of those traits for as long as I can remember. My parents certainly loved me and I don’t blame them entirely. The messages came from everywhere (including my parents) and my folks were simply following the rules they had been taught.

But those messages landed. And they confused me. And they hurt terribly.

Elementary School

When I was in elementary school, my parents brought me to a therapist to deal with my “anger problem”. I had a tendency to throw epic temper tantrums when I was upset—usually about a rule that didn’t make sense to me.

The irony of this? My parents fought and screamed at each other constantly. I mean screamed. I have countless memories of my mother throwing things like a pile of newspapers, or—in one particularly “sweet” fight—an entire pineapple upside down cake at my father (and no, that did not cause the upside-down cake to magically land right-side up but instead, we found pieces of cake in our cabinets for weeks afterwards).

So, you see, the only example I had of anger “management” was to throw a temper tantrum. Is it any wonder that I was doing the same?

And then there were the body messages.

I have a crystal clear memory from when I was around 10 years old. My grandparents were visiting and my mom set out some bean dip and tortilla chips. When told I could have some, I happily sat at the counter and dug in.

From across the family room, my grandfather smirked and said “Oh, she’s in heaven!”.

I felt instant shame.

Oh sure, if anyone had confronted my grandfather he would’ve widened his eyes in innocence and said “What? I was just remarking that she looked happy!”.

But I knew. I was only 10 and I knew that I should be ashamed of myself. How dare I dig in like that? How dare I indulge? I felt ugly. Messy. Fat. Shameful.

At first that shame was heavily reinforced by my parents who put me on my first diet when I was 11. But it didn’t take long for a smart girl like me to digest the amount of positive attention and praise I received when my body was stick-thin and take over the duty of body control as my own personal obsession.

I feel so sad for the girl that I was back then. How much further in my emotional maturity could I have gotten if my brain hadn’t been entirely taken up by thoughts of dieting? What kind of creative endeavors could I have achieved? Would I have chosen different friendships and romantic relationships had I been been instilled with a sense of self-love?

I’ve read that those who suffered from eating disorders in their youth tend to be behind in their maturity. I mean..duh! All of those years with this one major focus that kept me stuck in a shame spiral. I think it took me years to undo that damage and honestly, it will never fully be gone. It’s gotten easier, but I was always have to talk back to those insidious voices that creep in for the rest of my life.

College Years

My junior year of college, my eating disorder reached a new level. I had stopped menstruating and would carry a scale to the dorm bathroom every morning to weigh myself (because I had deemed the low-pile carpet in our dorm room as too “unreliable”). I ate a very specific and pathetically low-cal diet every day and became addicted to chewing sugar-free gum while pouring packets of equal in my mouth to “extend the flavor”. I was a mess.

It was during that time that I was cast as a “clown” in our musical theatre department’s original musical about (you guessed it) various types of clowns.

Up until then, I had thought of myself as an ingenue and always went out for those roles. But you know what? Inhabiting this very tiny body finally allowed me permission to be BIG in other ways. I took up very little physical space, so it was okay in my mind to take up space in a different way. To contort my body and face and possibly look silly or ugly. To take risks. I was free to “chew the scenery” because lord knows I wasn’t chewing much else.

And guess what? I realized that I was friggin funny! I had a real ability to make people laugh. I had been striving to be the ingenue when, in reality, I was the quirky friend, the comic relief, the sidekick, the witty or sarcastic character that brought the humor. And I loved playing these parts. They were so interesting and fun and I loved the side of myself that could inhabit them.

How sad that it took my almost physically disappearing for my funny side to emerge. But I can’t regret it. Because that was crucial knowledge that I gained and proceeded to carry with me into the rest of my life and career.

Those damaging messages that are sent to women have not gone away. They’re not hard to find. On TV, in stores, and in our personal relationships. And women that dare to live out loud are still demonized by many (and adored by others). BUT there are also more dissenting voices than there were 40 years ago. Powerful voices that assure women that they are ALLOWED TO TAKE UP SPACE.

And this is the message that I want to continue to embrace and spread to other women. You do not need to apologize for existing. For feeling. For asking for a refill at a restaurant. For the fact that someone else bumped into you. For asking for a raise. There is nothing shameful about being emotional, for feeling angry, or for (gasp!) enjoying a damn meal.

If someone tries to shame you for those things then that is their problem and not yours.

Let’s say it again: YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TAKE UP SPACE.

Tell yourself this. Tell your friends. Tell your daughters. You can feed yourself AND be funny at the same time. And surround yourself with others that do the same. My wish for you is that it doesn’t take a serious eating disorder and years of suffering to get to this place. Learn from my mistakes and give yourself permission to live out loud. This life is all we’ve got. Ask for what you want without apology. Eat the bean dip with gusto.

Today

Today, my body is strong and healthy. I make my living as a successful voice actor (yup, I said successful and resisted the urge to be self-deprecating about it). I work from home, run my own business, and am the breadwinner in our household. I love my career SO much and I use my emotional and expressive side every single day to make a darn good living. I am ambitious and driven and out-going and bawdy and I am not afraid to show it.

And also? I’m really f*cking funny.

1996 in the Syracuse University’s production of “Clowns”. Starving…but very funny.