A Love Letter to The Lady With The Double Chin
Two weeks ago, I was getting my hair washed at the hair salon when a woman came in and said, “Do any of you own a white Mercedes with a dog in it?”
Damn I would look good in a Benz, I thought to myself appreciatively. But no, I don’t own a Mercedes. I own a 2018 Hyundai Santa Fe that’s been through more traumatic experiences than a Vietnam vet.
When it became clear that no one in the salon owned the Mercedes, the woman said to her hairdresser, “I’ll be back in a couple minutes. I need to find the owner of that car. The dog inside it looks really hot and is panting. I would never forgive myself if something happened to that dog.”
What a nice person, I thought to myself admiringly. I love dog people. Then I went back to my usual internal dialogue: Will Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce spend Thanksgiving together this year? Is Brittney Mahomes jealous by all the attention T squared is getting? What do I want for Valentine’s Day this year? You know, deep thoughts by Allyson Crasnick.
When the woman came back into the salon, she humbly announced that she had been victorious in her efforts. She had found the negligent dog owner who had left sweet little Rover in an overheated luxury vehicle without water. And while the owner of the car had been none too pleased at having her pedicure interrupted, she begrudgingly took her feet out of a very relaxing paraffin wax and unrolled her car window. All was good in the world.
Now that the crisis had been averted, the dog-rescuer was promptly whisked into the chair beside me. At first, I wasn’t really paying attention. But my ears perked up the moment I heard her start talking about a “double chin lift”. What the actual hell?
At the drop of that bomb, I was all in. I hung onto her every word as she explained that she had considered undergoing a double chin lift; however, the cost of the surgery was over nine thousand dollars and it was going to be tough to spin that one off as medically necessary.
She spent the rest of her haircut talking about her double chin— how much she hated it, how she wished it didn’t bother her so much, and how it was the first and often the only thing she saw every time she looked in the mirror.
This admission left me feeling so damn sad that, for once, I put my worries about Brittney Mahomes aside and started thinking about my own body insecurities.
The truth is, I also have a body part that I hate. Two of them actually—my feet. I actually refer to them as my Freddy Flintstone’s because they are about as wide as they are long. And not only are my feet wide, but my stubby little toes look like pigs in a blanket. And no, I’m not exaggerating. I once had a close, personal friend describe my feet as “thick and meaty”. What? A person who supposedly cared about me referred to my feet in the same way manner someone might refer to a McRib sandwich? Was there truly no justice in this world?
It's sad but it’s true: as a result of these thicky and meaty appendages attached to the bottom of my legs, I have suffered deeply on more than one occasion:
There was the time I met a hot guy at a bar and he sent me a text the following day that said: Can you send me a picture of your feet?
I’m not the girl for you, I wrote back angrily as I cursed the cold, cruel universe.
Or the countless times I tried to buy a pair of sexy stilettos only to end up at the discontinued orthopedic rack at Lamey Wellehans, fighting over the last pair of seven triple wides with a pair of women who were alive during the Eishenhower administration.
And people think it’s easy being me?
There is at least one silver lining. My husband isn’t bothered by my toebesity. Shortly after I met him, I told him, “Your sister has perfect feet.” He looked at me blankly and said, “I wouldn’t know what a perfect foot looked like if it hit me in the face.” I knew at that moment we would grow old and die together.
All of this ridiculousness leads me to ask the inevitable question: Why do we do this to ourselves? Why is it so easy to hyperfocus on what we don’t like about ourselves rather than what we do? Why do we drown ourselves in negative self-talk when there are SO MANY MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT? (Any chance the Mahomes and T squared might all celebrate Thanksgiving together this year?)
I think deep down, we all know why. We all know we live in a society that is obsessed with youth, beauty, and perfection. We all know we have been led to believe from a very young age that skinny people are happier and that fat feet and double chins are linked to a lifetime of misery and despair. And really, it’s all a bunch of bullshit. What we need to start doing is challenging these beliefs and trying to change the way we think.
So fine, I’ve hated my feet since the seventh grade. But when I started teaching Pilates, I had to get comfortable with being barefoot multiple times per week. And you know what I did? I decided to embrace my feet. They might be ugly, but they are MY ugly feet. And quite frankly, I’m lucky to have feet. I tried to start looking at them from a purely functional perspective. I mean, a foot modeling career is clearly out of the question, but I have two good, strong (thick and meaty) feet that allow me to exercise like an insane person and run around and do all the crazy things I do. And instead of hating them, I decided to try and appreciate them. And on some level, I truly believe I have been successful.
In conclusion, a final word to the lady at the hair salon: I get it, I really do. We all have our insecurities. But you are a beautiful person, inside and out. I didn’t even notice your double chin. I was too busy thinking about what a nice person you were to take the time out of your busy day to rescue that dog. A lot of people would have kept right on walking. But not you. You are kind, you are selfless, and you are SO MUCH MORE than your double chin.
And as much I’ve enjoyed writing this post, I’ve got to run. Easy Sprits is having a sale on adaptive shoes for elderly women and I will not allow Agnes to get the last pair of mesh no-tie elastic lace sneakers (AGAIN)!
