Body image & instagram (March's #TPTT)

TW// Diet talk, ED, body image

The first thing I do every morning, while I’m still in bed in my bonnet, is open Instagram. I check my notifications, see who’s watched my story, refresh my homepage a few times (idk why I do this), check my DM’s (any niggas in there?), etc. Then I go to my discover page to see what IG has curated for me that day – typically a combination of cats, makeup tutorials, sports recaps (consistently liking athletes’ pics means I get sports updates) and …women

IG women, specifically. Snatched, perky tittied, freshly liposuctioned, “here’s the new weight loss secret I’ve been trying” women. *eye roll* …*clicks on profile anyway* I scroll through and glance at every selfie, “candid” photo, mirror pic, etc. and vacillate between, “it’s okay that EYE don’t look like that, my body looks great, I’m fine how I am” and “WOW I NEED TO BOOK A CONSULTATION WITH DR MIAMI IMMEDIATELY.”

I do this every morning. 

Mornings where I have more time I sometimes go down a rabbit hole of plastic surgery before and after’s, looking at procedures and prices. Eventually I put my phone down and the next part of my morning begins. I get naked (if I’m not already, which I usually am because …do I even own clothes?), stand in front of the mirror and look at myself. My internal self-talk typically leans towards affirmations and “yasssss” “OKAY SKIN!” comments, however, sometimes I watch myself point to “problem areas.”

“Problem areas.”

Where did I even learn that phrase? Probably Cosmo or an infomercial (do yall remember the Lipozene commercials?) Or maybe from my Mother who I always overheard talking about her weight and the new diet she was on – Weight Watchers, Atkin’s, Nutrisystem. You name it, she tried it. When I go back to the beginning, body talk was always present in some way. In elementary school people were teased for being fat. In middle school, it was about whose tits were bigger and teasing people for being fat. In high school, it was about desirability and teasing people for being fat (there was also a running joke at one point that I was pregnant because I was a) a slut and b) carried weight in my stomach. It became so ubiquitous the ISS teacher approached me about helping with the baby LMAO “what fucking baby?!”). In college, my roommate got Lapband because she was teased for being fat and I listened to her throw up every night after eating too much as her newly restricted stomach couldn’t handle it.

Recently, in the middle of introspecting, I asked twitter, “what would be different if you genuinely didn’t have to think about your body?” Upon reflection, that question is useless. It’s not realistic to ask people to imagine such freedom because that freedom has never existed (my lens here is obviously femme; read this how it makes sense to you). I have never been separate from how I look, how much space I take up, how I groom myself, my posture, my desirability AND how I clearly understand the importance and “value” in all of those things. I cannot imagine not thinking about my body because not thinking about my body has never been an option.

Even if I choose to deviate from proximity to whiteness and desirability there is intention in that choice; I’m aware of that deviation or I’m made aware of it. There is no existing separate from – my body is always subject to thought and criticism. I can’t quietly exist, unnoticed, because then being unnoticeable becomes a point of commentary.

Which makes the concept of #BodyPositivity seem inane. What even is “body positivity” in a culture that thrives off of keeping you insecure? How can we ask and expect people to be optimistic when we systemically root for their self-hatred? This society revolves around people being repulsed by themselves – “I am not enough” is what they hope for and bank on.

What’s more is there’s so little room to talk honestly about that, very real, internalized hate (particularly amongst the body positive crowd whom I often want to ask, “are you really happy?”). The days you wake up and feel disgusted by your reflection and cannot live up to the body positive bullshit. God forbid I say out loud I do not feel positive, I do not want to feign enthusiasm, I do not believe the affirmations – today I will let this swallow me whole.

How do I tell myself, “I am enough” and believe it?

Stepping away from the body positive movement sometimes gives me clarity – I don’t want to be positive all the time (side note: if that particular movement is helpful for you, that’s valid. Make it work.) I need space to move between any and all stages of existence which undoubtedly include moments of vulnerability. For me, there’s too much pressure in putting on that I’m happy and loving all the time. I’m not. I don’t want to pretend I’m immune to society’s commentary and expectations of my body. A holistic approach to “happiness” for me includes days off from trying. It also includes defining happiness individually, realistically and progressively (it also means not positioning my definition of happiness, health, etc. above others’.)

Grounding myself in individuality means I can recognize myself in community with others AND I can exist, as I am, separate from that. Realistically means not framing my goals on things that are unachievable. Yes, I can be happy; no, I cannot be happy every day of my life (and that’s fine). Progressively means letting things evolve as I evolve – being content with my body at 28 looks different than it did at 18 and who fucking knows what it’ll look like at 38.

I also prioritize both letting myself feel and intellectualizing what informs my feelings. I give myself space and don’t beat myself up when I have days where I want to look like someone else and on those days, I have a conversation with myself about the systems in place that feed me the information that my body is not good enough, the machine that works overtime to make sure I stay insecure. “Who wants me to be insecure and how does that benefit them?” is a question I often ask myself that centers me and moves me away from the external.

The practice of moving my goals away from my appearance has also shifted my self-perception. Instead of exercising to be thin, I exercise because it helps my sleep schedule, decreases my depression and makes me feel good. Instead of eating “healthy,” I (mostly) eat plant-based because it makes me less gassy and lethargic. I’m also in the process of trying to move away from calling foods “good” or “bad.” There is no such thing. 

I also recognize that the foundation of me not feeling good enough is built on trauma. Living in a society that reminds you daily that you are not enough is trauma. Seeing, and believing, that other people are better than you is trauma. Hearing others talk about THEIR trauma is trauma (ie. listening to your mother talk about how unhappy she is with her body). Being teased is trauma. Knowing your value is based on your proximity to whiteness and desirability (which for many means value is unattainable) is trauma. Framing food choices as a dichotomy of “good” or “bad” is trauma. 

Process that.

Understating there are various things at play that inform my self-image help me make sense of my thoughts. Making space for the inevitable “off” day is important. 

Be patient. Be realistic. Be honest. Do what works for you. 

And put your fucking phone down every once in a while (this is an intentional self-drag). 

You are enough.