My hands are up.
I'm guilty of hating my body. I'm guilty of staring in the mirror and loathing all the lumps, bumps and jiggly bits that hang off me.
The sad thing is, I think we have all, at some point, been guilty of despising our reflection, wanting to physically photoshop parts of our body. But for what?
For as long as I can remember, I have always longed for slimmer legs, smaller arms and to be toned all over.
No matter how much weight I lose, whether it be 1 stone or 2, the curves I wish away remain, silhouetting my body. At my lightest (one stone lighter than I am now) I was incredibly unhappy. From skipping meals, feeling overwhelmed with guilt after eating, and restricting myself to a mere 200 calories a day (at one point), things were pretty bad. I mean REALLY bad. I had an unhealthy relationship with food.
Over the past few years I've had two different types of unhealthy relationships with my body and food. The first being unable to eat without feeling guilty and hatred for my body, and the second being overly indulgent and unhealthy yet still hating my body. In no way am I an expert when it comes health and nutrition, and I am a total advocate for treating yourself, but looking back, I consider my self-hatred the worst part of it all...
I constantly ask myself why I chose to focus on hating my reflection rather than being happy. It's sad.
Finally, after struggling to accept that my body is uniquely curvy, I am now learning to accept and love it. Part of this newly found self-acceptance is because I sincerely do not want to look back on my nineteenth year of life and regret not being happy and free; it is incredibly easy to let your insecurities eat away at you, preventing self-growth and freedom, but where's the good in wasting away what we supposedly know to be our 'best body years'? Or, as I see it, some of the best and most fun years of our life.
I have been the victim of my insecurities for such an agonisingly long time, and I'm on a journey to bid them farewell. Why? Well, I would much rather look back at, say, a momentous occasion, and remember a sea of smiling faces brimming with laughter...not paranoia and self-loathing. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Learning to accept my body came hand in hand with learning to accept who I am as a person, as well as who I am not.
It was and still is a challenge, but it enables me to let go off all my worries. I no longer care how other people perceive me because all that truly matters is staying honest and true to yourself. Though, I did learn the hard way...I had the oh so lovely misfortune of being made to feel inadequate by a group of people who sadly thought it was perfectly acceptable to shame different body types (even bum shapes too, weird, I know).
It's important to note, I think, that while there will always be people out there on the edge of their seats ready to body shame, they too are probably enduring hardships themselves and probably don't mean any of the crap that sprout out their mouths. BUT, by no means do I think it's okay. It's not.
If you're learning to accept your body, it's incredibly helpful to get to the root of the issue. Perhaps its a result of:
a) what people have said to you
b) comparing yourself to others
c) feeling pressured by the media
d) an unrelated issue
Once you have found the root of the anxiety, you can bid it farewell.
Write down the reasons you love yourself and pin them up on the sides of a mirror or the back of a door. Catching a glimpse at the compliments will help catalyse self-love and acceptance.
I may have moved past my learned idea of the 'ideal body', but I think it is perfectly natural to occasionally feel deflated. We all have a haven't-showered-today day and a I-want-toe-eat-my-body-weight-in-chocolate human side, and letting it out to say hello every now then, well, I'd say that's perfectly acceptable. It's a lengthy process.
My knees may be, weirdly, larger than ever, my waist might not be as small as it once was, and sometimes I unintentionally amplify my problem areas, but I think I'm finally okay with that.
