body image

Body image: Why we shouldn’t feel ashamed when we change

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Body image: Why we shouldn't feel ashamed when we changeWhen I was first pregnant I found myself automatically apologising to my husband for the fact that my body would change.

And this is weird on several levels. Firstly, OF COURSE it’s going to change. How could you grow a new person within your own body without needing to make a little room?

Secondly, I didn’t do this on my own. I’m not going to draw you a picture but getting pregnant is very much a two person job and one we did on purpose. So, actually, I haven’t changed my body, we have.

And thirdly, why would a physical change require an apology anyway? Changing is what bodies do. We get older, we do varying levels of exercise, we experiment with the volume of Nobbly Bobbly ice creams we can consume during the summer months… We change together and support each other as we go.

But nonetheless, the instinct to apologise was there. He required no such thing, of course, because he’s not a dickhead, but this wasn’t really about him, anyway. It was about how I perceived myself, my own body image, and how we all respond to change, particularly when it occurs in women.

Several people have felt compelled to reassure me that ‘You can hardly tell you’re pregnant at all!’ or ‘Don’t worry, you’re wearing it well’ or ‘It’s OK because it’s just on your tummy and not on your face or anything’.

And it’s so strange because I’d be fine with it spreading anywhere it needs to go. I want people to be able to tell. A child is growing in here and I am happy to look however I need to keep us both safe.

When people say these things, I’m not even sure they know what they mean, only that, for the most part, they mean well. But I think it would be better for everyone if we stopped. There’s no need to panic. Bodies change and that’s OK.

Weight can, of course, be a huge trigger for insecurity, just like any other element of our appearance or lives. And I’m sure that many people who make these comments are just keen to keep everybody feeling good during such a gruelling process.

Body image: Why we shouldn't feel ashamed when we changeBut we mustn’t normalise the idea that a woman’s body changing is a bad thing. Because it isn’t.

What matters is how a person feels and that they’re healthy. And a positive status in both these areas looks very different from person to person. My healthy and your healthy, and my happy and your happy, no doubt do not look the same. And yours is absolutely none of my business.

Before I figured out that I was struggling with anxiety, I was often a little underweight. Nothing drastic but it was a side effect. When I look at my wedding pictures, I can see that although I’m happy in our relationship, I had some serious personal work to do. And since I’ve done that, I’ve had a steadier, healthier weight, which has involved getting a bit bigger, and that is a good thing.

I found it alarming that my instinct when I got pregnant was to say sorry for the changes my body would go through. That I felt the need to clarify whether my husband would manage to find me attractive during this time. (I am a constant source of Cadbury snacks right now – what could be more alluring than that?)

But I caught myself just in time and do not apologise any more. I am instead trying to enjoy this process, as much as the exhaustion/crying fits/surprise nausea will allow, anyway. Because this is a journey to something I want, so I wouldn’t have it any other way.

If we want to live in a world that’s kinder to women’s bodies, we have to start being kinder to ourselves. 

We need to be more honest about what’s fuelling our thoughts. Are you apologising for your weight/look/whatever because you have done something wrong? Or because you’re afraid that if you don’t, somebody else will suggest that you should?

Because, you know what? That is one risk you can afford to take. Because anybody who suggests that is wrong. And they should be the one to say they’re sorry.

Body image: Be careful with your words

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20151112_101751After a week of activities celebrating all things International Women’s Day, one issue has stood out for me above all the rest.

Now this is a tricky statement – there’s a lot of stuff we need to put right, a lot standing between us and equality – and I’m not saying one thing matters more than another. I’m just saying that one topic that kept arising over and over again has really stuck in my mind and made me want to do something about it.

And that is: body image.

I went to see Caitlin Moran on Tuesday night (and wrote about it afterwards). I went to a brilliant event for UCL Women’s Day on Wednesday called ‘What’s funny about Everyday Sexism?’ and heard from the very funny and very wise Cally Beaton, Luisa Omielan and Laura Bates. And then this weekend I’ve been to more of the Women of the World Festival (WOW) at the Southbank Centre. (Yes I am quite tired now.)

And every single time, body image came up in a big way.

The way women and girls see themselves.

The inability so many of us have to just accept a compliment.

The level to which we – from a frighteningly young age – want to change the way we look, lose weight, be ‘prettier’.

The perception that ‘pretty’ means ‘successful’.

The terrifying damage that feeling we don’t look ‘right’ can do to our minds, our lives, our bodies.

The relentless apologising we do for our legs, our stomachs, our flesh.

The words so many of us use to describe ourselves – always caveated, mocking, self-deprecating.

The need for all of this to stop.

There are two short videos that you should watch on this subject:

At WOW, Radio 1 DJ and all-round excellent female Gemma Cairney showed a film she made for the festival last year. She’d been around the country speaking to young girls about the issues affecting them. It broke my heart.

Stand-up comedian Luisa Omielan does an amazing routine about the ridiculous way women speak about their bodies and why it needs to change. This woman is hilarious, wise as hell AND on YouTube.

We all know this is a big issue but it’s only when you see it on this scale, on this kind of stage that we realise how widespread it is and how urgently we need to make a change.

20160227_160954I’ve written before about my own inability to take a compliment without making a joke. This remains a struggle. Partly because I enjoy making bad jokes more than I should, and partly because I’m genuinely just too embarrassed to say “Thank you. I chose this outfit/hair cut/pair of gold polka dot brogues on purpose and I stand by that decision.” After this week, I am going to get better at this.

Because not only is it important for my own happiness, confidence, and basic good manners, it’s important for all of us. We need to be careful with our words. The more we hear people putting themselves down, the more we think that’s what we all have to do, that it’s the polite way to speak about our bodies.

The more we stand in front of the mirror next to a friend saying ‘OH MY GOD I LOOK LIKE AN ACTUAL BAG OF RUBBISH. I SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED OUTSIDE!’ the more they’re going to respond with ‘YOU LOOK LIKE RUBBISH? I LOOK LIKE A BANANA THAT’S BEEN TRAVELLING AROUND IN SOMEONE’S HANDBAG FOR A WEEK – JUST A MESS!’

Seriously, why is this a thing?

There is much to be done about what other people expect from women in terms of our appearance – about the way we’re represented, about what we’re all taught about how women and girls supposedly should look.

But starting with the way we talk about our own bodies and those of our friends and peers is most definitely a good place to start.

Because if we all stop saying the bad things, eventually we’ll stop hearing them.

And if we all stop hearing them, then perhaps we’ll stop believing them.

And if we all stop believing them, the better prepared we’ll be to take on anyone who dares suggest that we should be anything other than just the way we are.

Body image: Why it’s time to stop scrutinizing the way we look

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I’ve never been a big fan of my eyebrows. They’re seriously spiky customers, they totally give away that my hair’s dyed (spoiler alert) and they seem absolutely determined to join together as one, if only my tweezers would let them. But they let me express myself. They go up when I see something that surprises me, like a free seat on the tube, or a Buy One Get Two Free offer (seriously, they happen). And they furrow when I’m confused, like when anybody tries to make conversation with me before 9am or after 9pm, or when people don’t understand how to queue. And I’m grateful for that.

I’ve never really liked my nose. Right there in the middle of my face, like a pink slide for flies. If I’m embarrassed or I laugh too much it goes as red as a flustered tomato, and I could swear it also flashes. But having a nose means that I can smell things. I can enjoy the scent of a well-chosen fabric conditioner or a frying piece of bacon. And I love bacon. And fabric conditioner (though not together) so being able to smell them both makes me very happy indeed.

Sometimes my eyes just DO. MY. HEAD. IN. They cry when I laugh, when I yawn, and when it’s windy, and reduce even the most waterproof of mascaras to a charcoal spread. They well up at the smallest sign of kindness. Try me – offer me a crisp. But having eyes means that I can see you. That I can read back through my own tweets. And that I can look in the washing basket and see that yes, now would be a good time to do a pink wash. Having eyes really is rather handy.

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I’ve always thought my arms were a bit weird. I’ve got double jointed elbows, you see. Sure, they’re handy for grabbing things that have dropped behind a radiator but that’s a party trick people only really want to see once – at best. When I try to do press-ups (which – OK, fine – is almost never), I have to think really hard about which way my arms should bend, so I’m forced through embarrassment (and perhaps just a smidge of laziness) not to bother. But with arms and hands I can put together a mean bag of Pick ‘n’ Mix. I can hug you real tight. And I can cook up a poached egg which I can guarantee will be runny in the middle. And for that I am definitely grateful, as would you be, should you wish to pop round.

When I stood in front of the mirror this morning I realised how quickly my brain automatically turns to negative thoughts. To noticing all the hairs that are out of place, the teenage skin that should surely have GROWN UP by now, the constant quandary over whether each part of me is the size and shape that it should be. It’s so boring. The time has come to stop this and just accept what’s right there in front of us – sure, wash it, moisturise it, hell, even use one of those little exfoliating sponges every now and then if you like, but let’s not waste so much time scrutinizing.

A touch of gratitude for what we’ve got, what it let’s us do, and how it makes us who we are, can only do us good. And think of all the time we’ll win back – more hours in the day to marvel at our ability to see a blue sky, to spot an opportunity for a bargain, or even to hone our press-up skills, should we suddenly find the energy.

Though, to be honest, I don’t think any amount of free time could ever make me fancy that.