I Guess I’ll Have To Be That Woman
Self-image and self-love are huge topics of conversation nowadays. To have curves, to not have curves. Is cellulite an accepted characteristic, or is it not? Body-positive activists and influencers post about their bodies and we think all is changing for the better in the world, but the snarky comments from internet trolls tells us otherwise. I’m just as confused as the next person. Can someone just tell me if my body is acceptable or not?!
In what seems like a world full of nothing but feeds of photoshopped images and videos, or television shows we binge of beautiful people, we start to question our natural state. We start to think that maybe there is something wrong with us and the features we’ve been given. For me, this rings all too true.
Let’s talk about the origin of the ‘self-love’ movement. The majority of self-image talk is based on social media. With Instagram (‘Meta’) and TikTok being the leading forces in the self-love movement, there comes a time where we really have to breakdown what is happening. To put it simply, these platforms are based on algorithms; algorithms are collecting our information and in return, feeding us information they think we should be seeing (or what they want us to see). For example, as a makeup artist, the majority of my algorithm is beauty: new makeup fads, other professional makeup artists, beautiful models with perfect skin and gorgeous bone structure. After so much time, these images start to weigh on me. I start to ask myself, “wait, I don’t have skin like that, should I have skin like that? My cheekbones don’t lift like hers, I wonder if I should talk to someone about having that fixed?”
Now, I know not everyone may be as easily influenced as I am, but in retrospect we have to ask ourselves, if it’s effecting a thirty-four-year-old woman, what is it doing to those most impressionable: our youth.
As most of you may know, my life has been tainted with severe mental health issues since I was a young girl. Along with the anxiety and the depression comes a long list of low self-esteem and body dysmorphia issues that I very rarely talk about. Specifically, for the past few years or so, I haven’t worn a pair of shorts (or anything above the knees) outside the comforts of my home (or maybe my family’s home) because my legs are the epitome of my self-hatred. Why? My cellulite.
I wake up every morning in a state of self-loathing. It has actually become obsessive and is exhausting to live in a body I absolutely hate. Yes, hate. Since turning thirty, the body I once remember having (which was a lot smoother and more proportioned than the one I have now, yet I still hated) has shifted and has become a body I don’t even recognize. Not to mention dealing with an autoimmune disease where the chances of me gaining weight are very high. Where do I go from here? Do I continue on a journey of self-discovery and self-love in hopes that one day I’ll accept the body I have to live in? The one that gets me from place-to-place and helps me create such a beautiful life? I guess the obvious answer to that is yes, but how? So many people look up to me and think I am beautiful and my God, do I love them for thinking that! It truly means the world to me and helps me in more ways than they could ever imagine. But it isn’t that simple. When you wake up every morning and hate the body you’re in, your day has already started on an exhaustive level of negativity and self-doubt. Moving on through your day trying to function at a higher vibration when you start out in that headspace is exhausting.
What am I supposed to do now? Walk around pretending to have an abundant amount of self-respect for myself, when in fact I have none? I was never one for being fake and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I have to be honest when I say that I have legitimate fear every day of being perceived as anything less than a perfect, beautiful woman. That is a significant amount of pressure to put on oneself. I believe the first step in fighting the negativity and fear that is being held hostage in my body, is to share it all with you.
Fear lives in the darkest areas of our body and the first step in devaluing any fear is to bring it to light so that it loses its power over us. Therefore, I have to admit--I am deeply, deeply ashamed of who I am and what I look like, especially the cellulite on my legs. It is something completely out of my control. I may not eat the best but I know I don’t overeat. I exercise as much as I can and stay pretty active, yet I still can’t seem to get it under control.
When I started this blog post, I thought maybe I’d have some conscious awakening and somehow feel better about myself by the time I was done writing it. But that isn’t the case. I still hate myself, my legs, my cellulite specifically, and I will still be hiding them away in pants through our fifth heatwave this summer, BUT progress takes time and patience.
Someone once told me to appreciate what my body does for me. Our body has to do multiple things at a time—pump blood to deliver oxygen to every cell in our body, digest food to deliver nutrients to keep us energized and help us power through the day. Fire neurons through our entire body at all times to help us stay coordinated as we walk, talk, breath, and see, amongst so many other things. Our bodies are doing this all at once, you really think it has time to place fat cells so proportionally that we don’t develop cellulite dimples? You really think it has time to play a perfect game of cellulite Tetris that it’s going to take away from the priority of fueling us and keeping us healthy and safe? No, because our bodies are not perfect. Like anything in this world, there is a limit and we have to know where to mentally draw the line and give ourselves a break.
Another reason I wanted to share all of this is not just because I wanted to get it off my chest and help my own healing journey, but I really don’t see women that look like me out there. Stores have added body-positive models to their campaigns but none that truly look like me. I still see really smooth bodies and it continues to make me feel less worthy.
In addition, I’m doing it for my little nieces, or any young girl that looks up to me, that may question their worth in a society that seems to prioritize perfection and doesn’t see themselves represented. This doesn’t just go for textures of our body but colors, too. BIPOC individuals are severely underrepresented in the world today, and this is dedicated to those young girls and women in the hopes that they find that representation.
Since I don’t see women like me in mainstream media as often as I see perfect models, I guess I’ll have to be that woman. I want to represent the imperfect bodies women actually have. The curves, the dimples, the stretch marks—any imperfect feature that we don’t see any place else but on ordinary, everyday women who raise children, run businesses, and are the true glue of their family.
Damn society for creating a vision of women that is nearly impossible, that almost none of us can replicate. For making any of us feel any less worthy than we are, knowing that it is completely out of our control what our bodies truly look like.
If this has never been the case for you, then consider yourself lucky. I hope it never becomes your reality. But for the women out there this has resonated with, I see you, I feel you, and I am with you. I think you’re the most beautiful, strong individual this world has to offer. I promise to put myself out on the line so you not only have someone to lookup to but relate to and make this world a little easier for you to exist in.
All my love,
Jen