Full Circle

The journey from the outside, to internal, to whole.

Most of my adolescence was spent seeing myself from a 3rd persons perspective. I vividly remember walking down the road at 10, 12, 15. Before the times of drones, but I think I had created one in my head. This invisible drone would pan out, hovering over me like a hawk. Watching me above, sideways and every angle imaginable. Did this top hide the right pieces of me. Did I look normal, enough? When I glanced at mirrors, it was not some vain self- absorbed activity to make sure I looked good, it was to check just how bad I did (in my head). There was always a sudden disappointment, a slight nausea. Self- inflected torture. I have this one distinct memory, I’m 13 standing outside the Hollister changing rooms waiting for my friend, of course. Hollister is only made for girls who fit a mould and I was far from it. In front of me stood a large mirror and I was just lost, staring into the depths of my reflection, deep in disappointment. After some time I noticed a sales assistant in the changing rooms staring at me, staring at myself. His eyes were sad, concerned. We both knew what I had been thinking, the look on my face left no room for doubt. We locked eyes and he quickly turned away, guilty, embarrassed, for me.

At 17 I started training consistently, and eating ‘better’ ~ more like restrictively. I ran a lot. Did weights. Divorced carbs to the point I was so scared of them I would rather have a chocolate bar than a slice of bread. The weight dropped off and soon enough I was tiny, like realll tiny. Some of my friends called me a skeleton, started pressuring me to eat rice again with my meals when we went to the canteen. Other friends applauded my efforts and the dismal meal prep of one piece of salmon and some measly lettuce leaves. I was always hungry. But I didn’t care because I was skinny now. I no longer saw my self from a 3rd persons eye when I walked down the road. My body fit in.

What I didn’t anticipate was the drone in my minds eye turning into a magnifying glass. I now hunched over the mirror, zooming in closer and closer to every inch of my body. Over analysing the small details. Not good enough, not tight enough, not toned enough. When I was bigger I thought, once my weight was ‘normal’ I would be 100% happy, of course it didn’t work out that way. There was no peace here.

Over the years that followed, my journey went up and down as my self worth followed my weight. I put on weight, lost it, gained muscle, lost it, meandered from consistency to months of not taking care of myself. It took me 7 years to recognise my body as a home. A part of me, but not something that defined me. Something clicked at 24, I no longer had to try so hard to love myself. After years of effort it just came naturally. In fact, nowadays I don’t think about my body much at all. I heard this quote ‘your life is so much larger than your looks’ and that stuck. Last year I was abroad for 2 months and I wore a bikini both at the beginning, and the end, when I had unashamedly self indulged and half of my suitcase no longer fit. Lots of firsts. I regularly cook delicious food and love what I eat. Everyday is more intuitive now.

It’s just phases, just places your body travels through. And this body has carried me through a lot. I’m in awe at the resilience of my home, a heart that has never stopped beating for me, despite it all, not even for a second.