The nudity experiment
How a few nude selfies boosted my self-confidence
There was a time when I had some serious body image issues.
I was an adolescent in the 80s, a decade which did nothing to improve my screwed-up body image. I didn’t look like the 20 Minute Workout chicks (Ann, Bess and Laurie) or the Solid Gold Dancers, nor did I aspire to look like them. I also didn’t look like the preppy girls in high school.
When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t like what I saw. Feeling awkward, plain and boring kept me introverted and shy, which in hindsight was unfortunate.
It didn’t seem to occur to anyone to redirect my wayward, prepubescent thoughts toward self-love and self-acceptance. Nobody ever called me pretty or beautiful. Not that it would have worked; things were different back then. If you’re GenX, you understand this.
One day, a family member compared me to an aunt who wasn’t particularly well-liked. The speaker’s voice and body language telling 16-year-old me I will probably end up looking like that aunt when I grew up plunged me into the depth of despair.
“No boy will ever look at me now,” I convinced myself and went on a rampage, ripping out posters of The Outsiders from 16 Magazine, which I plastered all over my bedroom wall. These boys weren’t going to reject…
