There’s a lot of buzz lately about body positivity, body neutrality, and how those contribute to self-love. While I understand the value of both of those concepts, I also understand that it’s not as easy as looking at other people – with bodies that don’t fit our societal standards of beautiful or even acceptable – and desensitizing ourselves to them so we can begin to view our bodies as “okay” or “beautiful”. Yes, seeing our shapes and sizes normalized in magazines, ads, TV, and movies (without judgment or stereotyping) helps us accept our own size – to a point. But to truly view ourselves, our bodies, as we are, we need to look at ourselves.
I’ve been
overweight all my life. Granted, what I considered overweight (or “fat”) when I
was in my teens was actually quite normal, but that’s kind of the point. I
didn’t measure up (or down) to what the other girls in school looked like, and
therefore I was overweight and not worthy of a boyfriend of popularity, or,
simply, acceptance.
As I got
older and lived through an emotionally abuse relationship, I put on more
weight. Now, in my mid-forties, I am the heaviest I’ve ever been, and as I
struggle with that reality, I am also self-aware enough to know that what I see
in the mirror isn’t exactly what everyone else sees.
You may have
heard that photographers hate being photographed, and it’s true. There’s a
reason we prefer to be behind the camera, rather than in front of it. But how
can we, in good conscience, tell our clients how beautiful they are, hype them
up during their session, or claim to understand their body issues if we haven’t
been in their shoes? Personally, I can’t.
So I make it
a point to hire another photographer at least once a year to take my picture. Sometimes
it’s just for fun, and sometimes it’s for professional reasons – headshots,
branding pics, etc.
Last summer, I
modeled for a friend who needed to update her portfolio. We decided a beach
photo shoot would be fun, and I had some dresses I’d been wanting to wear so I
figured this was the perfect time to do so.
The shoot
itself was a mixed bag. There were moments when I felt so awkward and weird I
wanted to just quit, and there were moments when I was able to let go of all
the limiting self-talk and just be. I felt graceful and beautiful and free.
And then I
got the photos.
Parts of me
were horrified. Other parts felt deep, deep shame and embarrassment. There was
nothing beautiful or graceful about the woman I saw in those pictures. She was
fat. Ugly, even. And utterly unworthy of feeling good about herself.
I hated how
my prominent my freckles were, I hated how my eye makeup had flaked beneath my
eyes, I hated the way my nostrils flared when I was deep in thought. I hated
how the wind kicked up my dress and made me look even bigger than I was.
My immediate
thought, once the shock wore off, was to send some samples to friends and
family and hope they’d tell me that what I saw and thought wasn’t true. That
desperate need for external validation was overwhelming and I was close –
really, really close – to acting on my insecurities. But I didn’t. Instead, I
put it all away. I gave myself time to feel that shame and regret – both of
which were valid and deserved time to just be.
I went back
through the photos a few days later. This time I found a few I didn’t hate so
much. And the next time I went through them, I found a few more. I started to
see myself as a person, as someone who was lost in a moment of bliss as she
stood on the beach with the breeze blowing past her. I saw someone who didn’t
care what anyone thought about her or what she looked like. I saw a woman embracing
a few moments of bliss.
Did I see
beauty? Sure. I saw bright green eyes with an unfocused gaze, I saw a knowing,
sassy smirk. I saw pretty painted lips and a genuine smile. But what soothed me
wasn’t the aesthetic. I found peace in the person
I saw in those pictures, in the experience she was having.
There are
still a few shots I’m not happy with, but I don’t think anyone is happy with
every photo that’s ever been taken of them. But what’s meaningful to me is that
not only can I see the beauty in myself – what other people see – I can see the
person I am and the light she emanates.
I think we
all deserve that.
