I want to start a series on this blog, dedicated solely to body positivity and body image. For that reason over the course of the next weeks, maybe even months I’m going to have inspiring people write for me, tell you how they see the topic. I’m calling this series Body+, as in body positive. Now, for the first post I thought it’d be good I’d write a little about myself and my opinion.
My body, my temple, my ruin. I guess many people would call it that, a ruin. Full of scars, stretchmarks and moles. So many broken bones already and even a broken heart from time to time. My first body-shaming incident happened in primary school, some girls told me I was too fat to wear jeans. And then it started, neighbors asked me when I was gonna lose my baby fat, and I started becoming more aware of society and media. I saw all these beautiful and perfect models, women I aspired to be someday. Thinking that when I looked like that I would be happy, I would find love and live happily ever after. Turns out all I got from it was Binge-Eating-Disorder and little to no self esteem.
I had to learn the hard way that even though my body is far from perfect it’s not ugly. It took hours and hours of crying, looking at myself naked in the mirror, turning and turning and turning until I finally saw all the “flaws” there could be. And still even when I loved myself there was one thing I was self conscious about and in the end, even though I accepted myself fully, I also accepted the fact, that there was something I couldn’t accept. I had the opportunity and I seized it, I got a boob-job, a correction if you say so.
Before I would always look at people that got cosmetic surgery, like they were weird, but who am I to judge. Who are you to do so? If it makes people happy why not let them? We color our hair, get piercings, tattoos and some get cosmetic surgery, there’s no big difference, just a little more risk involved. After I had my car accident about 2 and a half years ago I had to learn to live with huge scars on my body, visible scars and for once I got scars that made me feel more beautiful. Would I have gotten the surgery if I hadn’t been brainwashed from an early age (by media and society)? Probably not. Am I happy now and feel more confident and beautiful in my own skin? Heck yes.
I guess what I’m trying to get across here is this: Yes, my body may be described as a ruin, yes, my body went through a lot and no, you do not get to decide wether I feel beautiful or not. No one gets to decide if I’m worthy of love, happiness or success because of the way I look. And no one gets to decide that about you either. We are all worthy of love. We are all worthy of feeling beautiful and we are all worthy of happiness. Happiness comes from the inside, not from a number on a scale.
There is a harsh truth behind everything, the truth that we as a society are so insecure we have to make something up, something so unachievable, so that people have #goals they can lust for. So they don’t see what’s actually important, like if someone is a good person for example. We are so superficial, people get judged based on how they look rather than on who they actually are.