Reflections on my body

I have always lived my life in a fat body. Experiencing the world as a person who takes up more space but somehow still being seen as less-than. And I know there is a variety of social and political takes one can have about Fatphobia, unhealthiness, beauty politics, obesity, etc.., but I would not like to write this piece telling you how to feel about my body or your own. Instead, I am writing this to discuss how in the search for a “new year new you!” beach body I began the much harder and more complicated journey of losing and finding myself in a sea of warped self-image. I won’t go too deep into the nitty-gritty details, but I will say that I think, when we are looking at ourselves, so much of what we see is not our own.

When I used to look in the mirror, I spent so much time looking for a body that was not there. I lived thinking that someone else’s body would be the solution to all of the problems in my world, thinking maybe I could, with shear will, change into something I saw other people praising, and that that change would lift the curse of the day-to-day drudgery of life. I used to dread it all. The limits you feel when you question whether you fit. Is there enough space for me? you think. Your body is not an asset, but a liability. Your mind in a constant state of calculations. Crunching the numbers, poking and prodding, weighing and measuring, making sure you are only found in spaces where there is room for you. Always waiting for permission to enter. A body too big to be missed, but somehow too small to be seen. You live in it, making do, tiptoeing, and poking and prodding. Searching for space in rooms occupied by little things that require their approval for admission.

While waiting for admission, you begin to realize your life is being spent looking for yourself through the eyes of others. You have no idea what you see when you look at yourself. In your reflection, you see through the eyes of a critical onlooker, the eyes of someone claiming that a better you exists underneath a layer of changes and cosmetic fixes that you need to make. The laundry list of changes distort every mirror, but, one day, in the midst of a moment of attempted self-reflection, you begin to wonder what you would see if you could see your reflection without the distortions. If you lean into this curiosity, you unearth possibilities. I believe, people need to see themselves before they can become who they were meant to be, otherwise they are simply making themselves in the image of someone else, of someone they are not, someone imaginary. In my case, I was becoming identity-less, turning in to a convenient and selfless void, rather than a full human being. To combat this, I learned that you must ask yourself who you are, how you feel, what you want and where your joy is, answering the questions only for yourself at first, as you slowly unearth the lost parts of your reflection.

Then, slowly and all at once, you will see yourself. Your gaze will hold the view of your entire soul. Your body will not be viewed in chunks. Your body not viewed in numbers. Your body not viewed as an object. For the first time you are the subject. The person, the holder of the gaze. Your body will sway slightly as the calculations dissipate. I believe you will see yourself, without the funhouse filters and warped eye-lenses you were given. You discover you are what you are looking for. You are the space that fills itself. In awe, you stare present with yourself, present as though you had been gifted by something holy. The thing that you are, and the things you carry feel grander than others, others who have not seen outside of the warped reflections. You will stay in the stillness of your gaze and know the truth, attempting to promise yourself to never lose your gaze in another’s warped mirror (a promise that you know will occasionally be broken). For a moment you feel you no longer have to play the games. No longer low on the latter, bowing to the power-tripped and perfectionistic pathologized pathos of limited worth. The limits are no longer yours, but theirs. No asking for space, just filling the world as your cup runnith over.

When it happened to me, my whole self was held in the gaze of the fat body I was blessed with, and I felt at home. Now, before I leave the house, before the filtered lenses and the critical comments take over, I leave a little extra time for my gaze to linger on the holy thing I saw before.