A large part of hating my body is that I'm radically self-aware. No one could ever be more attentive to my own flaws than me. I used to think of this trait as solely negative, but I've come to find some solace in knowing that if I can handle my own barrage of critique, I'm a survivor.
I felt the knives of gendered body policing so young. I equated fitness ideals with masculinity and social success, and I was miserable because of it. I was aware that I was failing to meet an ideal, but I was living in an environment that didn't instill healthy lifestyle choices. I was painfully reminded of this dynamic when I boomeranged back to New Brunswick for 10 months of 2015.
A great outfit has always been like a sleek suit of armor to me; when I look good, I feel safe and sociable. I still get anxious taking my shirt off in public.
Gladly, I have the best relationship with my body that I've ever had right now. I put a lot of effort into maintaining a body I'm conformable living in. I exercise, I eat fairly well, I take long baths, and have a skin care routine. The long hair on my head is dyed black, and the hair on my body is removed.
I (re)create myself by maintaining a high-effort appearance. The "artificial" nature of grooming and styling are to me what makes it authentic. I am much more happy with my body knowing I have chosen to look a certain way.
So I'm doubling down on exercise in 2016, and I've been eating well (soy-intolerant vegetarian) for a full calendar year now. My exercise routine is also a strategy to manage back pain, so motivation has a nice synergy. I like the feeling that I'm in an upward trend toward actually loving my body, rather than just accepting it.
#Thisisme working through body image issues.
1 comment:
Hey buddy! Good job. I love you
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