For the first time in my life, I have something that is thin. It is slim, sexy, and has the perfect form. I am not referring to an actual body part…just a technological appendage (one that has been magnetically drawn to my hands since I’ve received it Christmas morning). It is my Mac Book Air. After receiving this perfectly skinny little device, I admired the size. However, this admiration soon turned to anxiety.
Is the 11’’ too small? As I wondered silently, then finally spoke up, my husband assured me that it is the most coveted model—he cajoled as if he were on an Apple commercial, “with a full sized keyboard and ultra slim frame, this baby can go anywhere.” Obstinate, I insisted upon trecking to the Apple store to consult the experts. Both the manager and his nerdy side-kick weighed in on the dilemma, pleasing my husband when their answers unequivocally matched his. The 11’’ is an ultra skinny, portably petite—yet powerful—machine; who would ever trade it up for the 13’’?
As I left fully confident that the 11’’ MBA was my new best friend, I began to wonder why I ever questioned my initial desire for this lean, mean typing machine. I’m no shrink, but I have to wonder if it has anything to do with a reluctance to be thin. Am I projecting my fear of thinness onto this poor, innocent, lovely silver tech tool? Now, before you—dear reader—judge my novice psychotherapy skills—you should know that I began thinking this because of an article in Oprah magazine. The article discussed how many people eat to fill other voids—a fact I’ve known for years already from my ongoing relationship with Weight Watchers. So, understanding that I am an emotional eater is a given—but what intrigued me in the Oprah article is the realization that people who do this are often afraid to be thin.
Since reading this article in the pedicure chair over a week ago, the thought of some unknown fear of thindom has loomed in my brain. Am I scared to be slim? Interestingly, this thinking took on new meaning when I began questioning—perhaps metaphorically—my decision on the 11’’ Mac Book Air. As excited as I was about my new machine—I asked myself if it was too thin. I sought approval from all outside sources on the acceptability of this fine piece of machinery before I decided I loved it. And I do love it. Just like I love fitting into a new, smaller pair of jeans. The key difference I hope to work on in the future is this: Unlike my need for reassurance on the teeny weeny laptop, I need nobody’s approval to love myself enough to make changes to my body—the size of which nobody but me is allowed to determine.
