Addicted to the Illusion of a "Better" Body

I recently finished Chris Hedges' new book, Empire of Illusions: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of the Spectacle. It's a trenchant critique of the various ways our society encourages us to escape reality by retreating into the array of fantasies it offers through various forms of popular culture. While the fantasy of the "perfect" body is not a focus in the book, it certainly falls into the category of "illusions" that divert our attention from the real issues and challenges of our lives, and thereby perpetuate the very suffering we want to alleviate. Perhaps the worst part about this illusion is that so many of us, women in particular, have become addicted to it.

In thinking about women's addiction to the fantasy of physical perfection, I am reminded of what Karl Marx (the late 19th century German philosopher) said about religion. He referred to it as "the opiate of the masses." He was especially critical of Christianity's tendency to direct believers' attention away from the brutal and unjust realities of this world to the heavenly bliss of the afterlife. In Marx's view, such other-worldly, fantasy-laden religious beliefs not only functioned to numb people's suffering in this life (particularly the suffering of the exploited working class of his era), but in so doing it left them with little motivation to challenge, much less change, the actual, this-worldly sources of their misery.

You don't have to be a Marxist to grasp the insight of this analysis, particularly as it applies to The Religion of Thinness. In many ways, the comparison is perfect. Only instead of encouraging us to ignore the reality of our suffering here and now with the promise of happiness when we die, The Religion of Thinness teaches us to relieve our current distress by focusing on the fantasy of a "better" body. Those who become trapped in this illusion come to depend on the temporary relief it provides by diverting our attention away from our everyday problems and pains towards a picture of ourselves physically perfected.

This addiction has both social and psychic sources.

On a societal level, the illusion that losing weight will give us the satisfaction we seek is rooted in a $60 billion a year weight-loss industry that thrives on the very sense of shame it seeks to stir and promises to cure. In fact, half the time when I log on to this website to post a blog, there are advertisements for diet products, promising to help us downsize our bodies! Even as we swim in an endless sea of commercial promises to help us "fix" our figures, our culture simultaneously feeds us a steady diet of advertisements enticing us to satisfy our cravings, to go ahead and give in, to splurge, to supersize. The schizophrenic messages we receive about food-refrain and indulge-make it very difficult, to say the least, to develop a balanced approach to eating. But more than that, in different ways, these mixed messages tell us we can diet or eat away our pain.

Of course, the illusion is also bolstered by the media images we are bombarded with daily. Whether moving or still life, glossy pictures of models, movie stars, and other celebrities are part of the larger

"empire of illusions" that sponsors the fallacy that our freedom from anxiety and/or depression depends on being slender. Through our repetitious exposure to these images, we come to associate the wealth, fame, power, and beauty we are taught to crave with the tight and trim figure. Gradually, we come to believe that if our bodies were as smooth and seamless as the ones we see on TV and in magazines and movies, so too our lives would be.

The illusion that having a "better" (read: thinner) body will somehow magically make our problems disappear doesn't speak to reason. One some level, we know it's illogical to believe that shrinking our form is the key to living happily ever after. Like all good myths, the fantasy hooks us by appealing to our more-than-cerebral sensibilities. It grips that vulnerable part of us, the part that is hurting and wants to be healed. This takes us to the psychic sources of our addiction to the fantasy of thinness: we come to depend on this illusion because we lack more adequate means to transform our suffering.

But how do we begin to transform the difficulties of our lives?

Obviously, there is no singularly correct answer to this question. But it's worth noting that, historically, religion has played a central role in the transformation of human pain. In various times, places, and cultures, people have turned to the wisdom of their spiritual traditions to help them make sense out of their problems, to find inspiration to work through them and grow beyond them. Traditional religions have various stories, symbols, and rituals to represent this transformative process, from the man who was crucified and resurrected, to the lotus blossom that is rooted in mud and yet blossoming towards the sun, to the lighting of candles as the day darkens to welcome the Sabbath and celebrate the creative, liberating, and sacred power of life (to name just a few examples).

And yet, as Marx's critique suggests, religions have not always been vehicles of transformation. That they have also functioned to sanction violence, oppression, and various other forms of cruelty is a key reason so many people today justifiably feel disconnected from them. I'm not suggesting that we try to fill the spiritual void that draws us to the illusion of thinness by returning to (or tightening our connection with) traditional religions. While this may be helpful for some, my point here is that each of us needs resources for metamorphosing our problems into opportunities that teach us what we need to learn.

In the absence of such spiritual tools for staying present amid our distress, for accepting "what is" even when we don't like it, for letting go and moving on-even when we feel most stuck, we are vulnerable to the false promises of The Religion of Thinness.

Ultimately, we cannot let go of the illusion of a "better" body without replacing it with something more meaningful. What will fill the void so many of us have learned to escape through the fantasy of physical perfection?

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Perhaps instead of answer this question directly (since I seriously doubt that there is one answer), it is more helpful to offer a set of questions that can move us from the illusion that thinness will make us happy to the insight that-contrary to the messages we receive from popular culture-we are more than our appearance. Such questions include:

"What is the meaning of my life?"

"What do I hope to accomplish during my lifetime"

"To what should I devote myself"

"How should I deal with suffering-both within myself and in those around me?"

"How do I want people to remember me when I die?"

"What kinds of ideas, activities, relationships nourish me mentally, spiritually, physically?"

"How do my personal thoughts and actions affect the lives of others?"

These are just a few questions that can shift us out of the "false consciousness" (Marx) that prevents us from seeing our own oppression and keeps us fixated on pseudo-solutions. Taking the time to probe such questions can put us in touch with our deepest values and thereby give us the strength to evolve through, rather than run from, the challenges and changes of our lives.