On trying to un-hate my body
Is body neutrality too much to ask for?
Trigger warning: This post discusses body image and self-esteem issues. If these topics are difficult for you, please skip over this post and I’ll catch you in the next one <3
For as long as I can remember, I have had insecurities.
A boy at primary school used to call me “pencil legs” (yes, really). In Year 7, a group of boys told me I had a “sledge nose” (what does that even mean?!). Dentists told me my smile was crooked and my overbite was too big (but neither were bad enough to access braces on the NHS).
I was a competitive swimmer as a teen, so I spent a lot of time picking apart my figure in the changing room mirror.
That said, I wouldn’t say I ever had real body image issues. I didn’t hate my body, there were just bits I didn’t like so much. I didn’t despise what I saw in the mirror, nor did I feel self-conscious to leave the house because of my size and shape.
Oh no, all that came in my 20s.
I had the perfect storm hit in 2020. I’d just got my current job, working in an office, which was much less active than my previous hospitality work; Covid hit, so I couldn’t go to the gym; I’d recently turned 20 and my body began to morph from a teenager’s to a woman’s.
In 2021 I also learned that my PCOS, which I had diagnosed waaay back in 2014, was actually an insulin-related condition. My body is predisposed to gain weight and be exhausted.
Over the next couple of years my body changed shape, gyms remained mostly closed, and my life became more sedentary than it had ever been (despite the daily walk we were legally entitled to). What resulted was not just a change in number on the scales, but an entirely new attitude to my own image.
I have never spoken to anyone as disgustingly as I’ve spoken to myself in the mirror over the past few years.
The thing is, I never really gave my appearance much thought before this. I was super sporty at school, used the gym as a coping mechanism during uni (that’s another story) and did about 20,000-30,000 steps a day at my hospitality job. My body was the vessel that allowed me to do those things. I neither loved it nor hated it. It just was.
And then, all of a sudden, I was picking myself apart to no end. Comparing myself to every single other person I saw (they’re so [x], why can’t I be like that?). Feeling embarrassed to see anyone anywhere because I knew they would be thinking about how I looked. It seemed like overnight I went from feeling no type of way about my appearance to absolutely despising it.
My taste in clothes has changed dramatically too. I never gave much thought to what I wore previously – if I liked it, I wore it – whereas now I go out of my way to only wear clothes that hide me. Clothes shopping is my idea of hell, even though I used to love putting outfits together. It’s yet another thing my hatred of my body has stripped away from me.
Don’t get me wrong, there are things I like about my physicality.
Despite what dentists have said, I love my teeth. They are imperfect, but when I see my dad smile I see a carbon copy of my own. How could I want to iron out those imperfections when they are a constant reminder of one of my favourite people on this planet?
In a world where influencers have straight, pearly whites, it’s a miracle I look at my teeth with all their flaws and see love. It makes me believe I can look at other parts of myself and not feel the way I do now – even if I don’t love, or even like, them.
I want it to change. Really, I do.
It’s been an uphill battle since I first realised I was feeling this way. It’s not like I want to love my body, I just don’t want to hate it.
So, I’m working toward body neutrality. Feeling very little about the way I look and just appreciating my body for what it is – the thing that keeps me alive.
Every single day I’ve had, whether it’s been the best or worst day of my life, my body has been there. It’s joined me across the magical terrains of Iceland, the white sand of Mauritius and the bustling streets of New York, just as it’s been with me during anxious lectures and terrifying driving tests. It’s kept me warm under canvas, put one foot in front of the other on walks, and rested with me on dreary Sundays. It’s nursed me through illnesses, injuries, and – worst of all – breakups.
No matter how kind or unkind I’ve been to myself, my heart has kept beating. Blood has pumped through my veins. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard. Every single second of my life.
My body has never given up on me, so I don’t intend to give up on trying to appreciate it. Even if it’s sometimes tough.
“I have never spoken to anyone as disgustingly as I’ve spoken to myself in the mirror over the past few years” damn this hit me. It’s not easy being a woman.
I feel like in recent years, despite more awareness for women’s health, ironically there’s a growing anxiety about our bodies. I see platforms supporting cycle health for example (I have PCOS too) which is great, but I end up in a rabbit hole of dieting I can’t keep up with but have to in order to get my period back.. and although Covid times made me focus more on myself (wellness trends were *booming*), most of these habits are unachievable for a normal person with a full-time job. Especially after seeing The Substance last night, my mind is reeling over how our bodies are seen through a lens of impossible beauty standards whereas it’s simply body mass itself too. It felt felt absurd to me why someone would care *that* much about how they look when they look beautiful to me, and go to extremes to achieve it. But then I’m a hypocrite because the eyes I use for others are so different to those I use for myself.
I feel that this is an important read for so many of us, so thank you for writing it so openly 🫶🏻 It's important that we keep challenging societal messages and instead, simply love our bodies for what they are: beautiful. As you eloquently said, they carry us through everything and everywhere! So many quotes in this really hit me, and I'm struck by how much worse this feeling seems to be for people growing up nowadays. There's certainly a generational divide. Just recently, an older female relative of mine told me - to my face - that I had "got fatter" while my Mum had "got thinner". It made me feel horrific; I was literally hiding back tears in the moment. But now I just feel anger towards it (and her!) as I realise how utterly ridiculous it is. She also didn't say anything to my Dad and boyfriend who were also in the room, which shows how unfortunately heightened this can be for women (although not exclusive to us!). Body neutrality should never be too much to ask for. Thank you for bringing this complicated phenomena to the surface. It is a beautifully written piece. Sending you all the best 💜