My Love/Hate Relationship With My Body
My Love/Hate Relationship With My Body
For as long as I can remember, I have squirmed in my own skin. I’ve always been hyper-aware of errant fat pouches that won’t disappear no matter how much I exercised and tried to hide the parts of myself that didn’t look toned and tiny. Growing up, I was constantly criticizing and hiding more and more of myself. I became horribly depressed. Since I grew up thinking this was normal, ten-year-old me would have never dreamed of the day that she wouldn’t care about how she looked in the mirror. Finally, after nearly 20 years of hating my appearance, I have come to love it for what it is: a strong supple body that has supported me through thick and thin, through emotional turmoil and trauma, and through periods of blissful happiness. In this ongoing journey of learning to love myself, I can proudly say that I have come a long way. Although I am happy with my body as it is now, it wasn’t always this way.
Both of my parents are doctors and as a result, food, exercise, weight, and general health have been constant topics of conversation in my house since before I can remember. Comments regarding my body were made as casually and regularly as talking about the weather. “You need to watch what you eat, or you’re going to get fat,” or “You have to start exercising, or you’re going to become obese” were just two of the common phrases spoken in my home. It didn’t matter that I was eight; I needed to know to maintain a healthy lifestyle and the younger I learned this lesson, the better. My parents have promoted dieting, exercising, and calorie-tracking since I was little and as a result, I have spent most of my life trying various methods to lose weight and stay thin. My mother encouraged me to weigh myself every day to make sure my weight didn’t fluctuate, and as a result, I struggled with body dysmorphia. With my family members all pencil-thin and curve-less, growing up, I felt like an outsider with my wide hips, round belly, and bigger breasts.
In addition to my parents’ influence, my extended family also had quite an impact on my understanding and perception of my body. My family is Jewish and specifically, my dad’s side is Iranian. From a very young age, my Iranian grandparents, aunts, uncles, and others made me very aware of how I looked, and how I was meant to look. I was praised as “sexy” before I turned 12, as Iranian beauty standards revolve around being thin and beautiful. When I was no longer perfectly thin and began to develop curves early, I was made to feel that something was wrong with me and my body. My family, wanting the best for me, wanted me to understand that my looks determined my future: who I would marry and how well I would marry. Although I wasn’t concerned with marriage when I was little, my relatives were and as a result, I felt the pressure going into my teen years. I starved myself, cut down my caloric intake, and did everything I could to make my stomach flatter, my waist smaller, and my legs more muscular. I had a breast reduction when I was 14, and even though I rid myself of my heavy chest, other insecurities about my body stuck with me.
It wasn’t until my younger sister began dealing with a life-altering eating disorder that the atmosphere in my house finally started to change. After my sister recovered, my parents began to be more careful about what they would say and suggest regarding weight. But even then, the weight of my insecurities loomed over me like a storm cloud, ready to downpour and crush me at any moment. It was only when the COVID-19 pandemic began, and we were forced to stay at home and ruminate over our problems, that I faced mine head-on.
Like everyone else, I was a couch potato during the pandemic. As a result, I gained a little bit of weight. It turns out reading and watching copious amounts of movies doesn’t burn calories. I became aware of the changes in my body, and for the first time, had a different response. In the past, I would have forced myself to endure horrible diets to drop the extra pounds and tracked my calories religiously. Instead, I shut out the voice in my head and stopped weighing myself every day. Because of the body positivity movement on social media, I have finally come to love myself the way I am. I binge-watched videos on TikTok and YouTube about curvy girls talking about their bodies, showing their stretch marks, and embracing their curves. I lept down the rabbit hole and learned as much about the body positivity movement as I could.
I came across this article that Beyoncé wrote for Vogue in 2018 that really changed my perspective. Known for her feminist pop, hip-hop, and R&B music, Beyoncé has always been a figure that I looked up to growing up. In “Beyoncé in Her Own Words: Her Life, Her Body, Her Heritage,” Queen Bey addressed her view of her own body, and how she has come to love herself. She talked about her own self-love journey when she wrote, “I was 218 pounds the day I gave birth to Rumi and Sir… During my recovery, I gave myself self-love and self-care, and I embraced being curvier… I think it’s important for women and men to see and appreciate the beauty in their natural bodies… To this day my arms, shoulders, breasts, and thighs are fuller. I have a little mommy pouch, and I’m in no rush to get rid of it. I think it’s real.”
Although this sounds strange, the fact that Beyoncé embraced her curves and was over 200 pounds made me feel better about loving my own skin, no matter what I weighed. Around the same time, I was listening to Lizzo’s Cuz I Love You album, and her lyrics about body positivity and self-love were really encouraging. In particular, her songs “Soulmate,” “Tempo (feat. Missy Elliott),” and “Exactly How I Feel (feat. Gucci Mane)” really made me feel confident in my own skin at my current size.
Although I have come a long way in the past few months, my journey to love myself and my body is an ongoing one. I still have insecurities about how I look; I’m human. But I am no longer concerned with looking a certain way or weighing a certain amount. I’ve come to realize that weight is just a number, and everyone carries it differently. I haven’t weighed myself in months, and I've never felt happier. I go by how I feel; I feel healthy and happy, and I eat well. That’s all I’m concerned with in maintaining my health. If my clothes feel tight or don’t fit right, I’ll buy new ones. I won’t starve myself ever again or avoid treating myself to some french fries or ice cream. I’m a good person with a beautiful body, and I have nothing to worry about. I don’t care about my clothing size; it doesn’t define me. I don’t have a thigh gap, and that’s okay. My hips are wide, I have a little belly pouch that will never be flat, and I have bigger breasts than the “average” girl. I hope to never be ashamed of my body again. What I used to think were flaws are now what I consider to be some of my greatest strengths. Every body is different, and we are all beautiful. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and for the first time, I feel truly beautiful.