[Trigger warning: mentions of eating disorders]
Every time I say ‘I’m fat’, I’m met with a chorus of ‘no, you’re not’ or ‘you’re still beautiful’. What puzzles me most about this is that I do know that. When I call myself fat it’s a statement of fact, and not an invite for compliments to boost my self-esteem.
The existing societal notions of beauty and diet culture present a very unrealistic version of a desirable ‘good’ body and a large number of these take root from the rampant colonization drive undertaken by European countries in the earlier centuries. A straight nose, blonde hair and blue eyes are features that are in reality restricted to a very small part of the world.
Furthermore, years of conditioning have led us to believe that the only bodies worth seeing and celebrating are extremely skinny waists and large curves, the logic of which still escapes me. These ideas are enforced further by the portrayal women in media wherein any woman that doesn’t fit this body type tends to have a smaller role and is usually mocked and belittled till she undergoes a ‘magical’ transformation that changes her into the ‘ideal’ woman.
It took me a fair number of years to figure out that my not fitting into these cut-outs was a good thing and that my body was valid whether or not it received the representation it deserves. I never let myself accept that I was fat till I released that it isn’t an insult but simply an adjective. I’ve been down the calorie counting road, the workout come rain, hail or shine road, the binge and purge road and none of them took me where I wanted to go. Losing seventeen kilograms didn’t make me love my body and neither did gaining them all back. I’m not quite sure if I love it now but I respect it. I give it what it needs and what it wants and I don’t let something someone else tells me dictate what I do with it.
This doesn’t go to say however that I don’t still feel the effects of these notions because they exist all around me. I feel guilty when I eat unhealthy food and wear short clothes because everyone around me says I shouldn’t be and I feel guilty when I eat healthy and exercise because I feel like I’m betraying my principles by giving into the societal pressure of being thin.
Always eating junk food is not bad because it makes you gain weight but because of its medical ramifications. Being consistent with workouts is not good because it helps you lose weight but because its keeping your cardiovascular system in order. The value of action does not depend on the aesthetic consequences of its completion.
The ‘value’ of a certain kind of appearance has now been exaggerated to the extent that multitudes of businesses are now majorly capitalizing on it, selling weight loss tricks or foods, shapewear and surgery. All their advertisements invite customers with the empty promise of being satisfied with their bodies and the rate at which they’re raking in profits speak volumes about the criticality of the situation. All bodies can be beautiful but they don’t have to be all the time. I don’t think I look cute when I just wake up and I shouldn’t have to.
The blame for the propagation of these ideas doesn’t rest on the media or society alone. All of my family has on every occasion we’ve met has either suggested a new weight loss technique for me to try or has complimented me for looking thinner. Their subscription to societal notions and their own internalized body related issues overpower my choice of taking autonomy over my body because if everyone who’s meant to love you says you should be another way, a part of you starts to listen.
It took a lot of hurt and fallbacks for me to reach a reluctant truce with my body and I know that somethings may still knock me back a couple of steps because in this environment its nearly impossible to be completely satisfied, no matter how ‘good’ you look. In the end however, I’m going to have my body my whole life and its undergoing changes all the time. I think I’m better off learning to love it than trying to change it.