Body Positive(ish)
I feel inspired when I see the transformations of people on a journey to weight loss, fitness, or health in general (both mental and physical). I’m sure I’m not the only one, but from time to time I catch myself scrolling through some stranger’s Instagram searching for before and after pictures. Most of the time, these individuals have dedicated most (if not all) of their social media accounts to documenting their workouts, meal choices, and motivational tips. If you spend enough time looking at a stranger’s Instagram (probably five minutes — that’s usually long enough) you might even feel like you know the person. I assume that people share their profiles publicly so that people like me can get a glimpse and possibly find a bit of inspiration, but also so they can see and feel their own successes. I could be wrong.
I’m also very moved when I see photographs of people (mostly women) who are confident with their bodies even though they don’t fit society’s ideal of what a beautiful body should be. Specifically, I am inspired by the courageous women who can stand in front of a camera and bear all to the public — whether they’re a size 10 or a size 22. These people are the faces of the Body Positive movement, a movement that I am beyond proud to see taking place.
I don’t know what it is, but I love to see both ends of the spectrum. I love watching the story unfold about a woman who went from a size 20 to a size 4, but I also love bearing witness to a woman who is confident enough to post a photograph that showcases her stretch marks, her cellulite, and her honesty. Sometimes I feel like a hypocrite because I support the Body Positive movement, yet I’m ashamed of my own body. I don’t have the courage to wear a bikini, let alone a sleeveless top. Although I’ve accepted that my body was not meant to be a size 2 (or 4, or 6) I’m not satisfied with the way I look. I don’t feel healthy, or confident, or beautiful. But I still want other people of different shapes and sizes to feel all of those things — and more.
I can identify nearly every kid on the playground who ever made fun of my weight by name. I can tell you about the adults who ridiculed me growing up. I remember the first time someone referred to me as “chunky” (That was new — chunky? Like clam chowder? Did he mean chubby? Apparently not, because that wasn’t the last time I encountered the word). I remember some of the exact words and phrases that cut so deep in many more of these situations. And they still sting. In third grade, two boys explained it to me like it was: “You’re cool, but we like her more because she has a better body.”
I was always a chubby kid. I think I experienced my first wave of playground insults in kindergarten, and they came pretty sparingly. In second grade I lost a dangerous amount of weight — and a significant amount of hair — because I developed habits of disordered eating after getting very sick (that’s a story for another time, it’s extremely complicated). It still makes me sad to think about the worry and pain I must have caused my parents. In any case, once I recovered and was eating normally again, I gained back all of the weight and probably a little more. But I was back to being chubby and it never hindered me unless some bully was pointing it out. I danced, I played sports, I did talent shows, I had friends, I was smart. I had confidence until someone else noticed the physical flaws that I usually failed to see.
I remember in grade school when I realized that skinny was the norm set forth by society. For so long, I had thought that there were three sizes: skinny, normal, and fat. Most of my friends were skinny — what were the odds?? But everyone else in the world was normal, and I was normal. My mom always told me I wasn’t fat. I was “perfect” and “normal” and “healthy” and I just had a tummy, that’s all. Later I saw things in two categories instead: skinny (normal) and fat. I must have fallen into the latter.
During one of my more successful journeys to health, I remember posting a picture on social media to celebrate my success — to make it feel real. This was my transformation. I had lost 40 lbs, and I held out my high school uniform skirt so that everyone could see how much looser it was on me than it used to be. I felt cute, but probably not beautiful. Not that I’ve never felt beautiful. I felt beautiful when I was nominated for homecoming queen and I got to wear a gorgeous gown and walk out on the football field. Ironically, that was when I was my heaviest.
College didn’t exactly give me a confidence boost about my appearance, either. I was constantly facing my beautifully fit peers, but I was also frequently reminded that everyone and every body is beautiful. It was all really confusing. Here I was, being told to love my body, and also being told that going to bars meant I needed to look hot. In all honestly, I hate going out to parties or bars because I’m not comfortable in my own skin. There are girls without perfect bodies who still wear short skirts and tight dresses and they totally own it; I am not one of those girls. It also doesn’t help that I can’t even call myself curvy — I have a natural waist and big hips, but I fall somewhere between a glorified A-cup and a B-cup, so that’s out. Basically, I dread dressing in anything other than loose-fitting tops or the occasional dress. The more concealing, the better (remember I don’t have any cleavage so that’s also not an option). Going out is not fun when you don’t like to drink much and you wish you could be wearing a potato sack to hide your entire torso. If I can’t fill out the plus size dress made to accentuate my figure and I can’t wear a top without a jacket that will probably give me heatstroke, why bother going out at all?
My struggle with my physical appearance is, to put it lightly, shitty. Do I want to be confident with how I look? Of course. Do I want to know that I’m making the best choices for my wellbeing? Yes. Do I love that girls of all shapes and sizes are comfortable sharing photographs of themselves in trendy swimwear? Absolutely. Do I get emotional when I see someone reach their goals? I do. I guess that my biggest reflection after all this time is that confidence and wellness, as with beauty, are in the eye of the beholder. I want people to keep sharing their fitness journeys, their words of encouragement and self love, and their big “F U” messages to society. I want to continue to be inspired by people who achieve their weight loss goals and by people who feel happy and healthy in their own beautiful bodies without changing them at all. I want to do what’s best for me and my health and to embrace the movement at the same time. Some day, I want to be the woman who confidently posts a picture of myself in something that shows my body, whatever size it is, in a positive way. Not now, because I’d be lying if I said I thought my body is beautiful. But who knows, maybe tomorrow I won’t feel that way.
Originally published on January 10, 2017.
Hayley Walker is a nonprofit development professional working in San Francisco, California. With a Bachelor of Arts in Communication Studies and a Masters of Nonprofit Administration, her passions include human communication, art, service to others, the great outdoors, and dogs. Lots of dogs.
