The UNSEEN: Body Image

*Disclaimer: Hello reader! The below is NOT a trauma conscious post. If you’re struggling with body image issues, you MAY find this triggering. And while triggers aren’t always bad and they can spark some soul searching, maybe you’re not in the mood to be triggered and that’s just fine too.*

Here’s a resource if you want/need it: NEDA

I’m that skinny bitch that fat bitches grow to hate. Not quite model thin. Cheek bones defined, a small physic, not too tall, almond shaped eyes. I look like I should be happy about the way that I look. I look like I should be grateful that I don’t have to lose weight, gain weight, eat less, eat more, exercise much. I look like I don’t have to do anything to look like this. I look like it should be effortless.

And that’s the problem.

It stops at “the look”.

Do you know what the look is?

It’s a dismissal; occasional contempt; it’s silencing; a period, a full stop before a true thought can be conveyed and formed in my mind and translated into words. It’s a judgement of my character. It’s compounded discrimination, built up so fast that Trump should have hired it to create his border wall. It’s a limit set to what I am “supposed to” be able to achieve.

When you look at me, do you assume intelligence?

No!

Maybe sometimes if I, “have my glasses on” and you’re distracted by a cultural indicator of “intelligence”, “nerdiness”, “counter-beauty”. Childishly diverted by this shiny, yet “unattractive” object, I cover my face and somehow my beauty disappears, if but for a moment, a grown-ups peak-a-boo.

Glasses are fashionable…for now. It’s a niche thing.

Just like the gap in my teeth you’re getting braces to achieve. That same tooth gap that I’d been self conscious about my entire life.

By the way, thanks for that.

Do you know what “the look” is?

Apparently some kind of invitation for your sexual advances and arousal that I did not ask for and that I do not, have not welcomed.

Luckily, I also seem to have “a look”; resting bitch face which keeps y’all at bay and chocolate skin that reads as agression, which lets you know I’m not playin’. But also gets me categorized as angry, unapproachable, aloof.

Do you know what?

I’m so tired of what’s in and what’s out. I’m tired of your “revelations” when your head comes up above water and you realize that beauty doesn’t come in one shape, one size, one color to fit all.

Do you know what?

I can’t see myself in the mirror anymore. I see fads in all my features and I’m too tired to keep up with what’s “relevant” anymore. I see a blob of self conscious, self hatred, questioned self worth. “Is this okay?” “Will they like me this season?”. I’m tired of it! I don’t want to be liked by all of you who are waiting for the next fashion week to determine whether or not my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, my thighs, my mouth, my hair, my waist, my arms, my feet, my hands, my ass, my chin, my teeth, my ears are good enough.

Do you know what?

I don’t want my body’s ever changing image to be determined, judged by mercurial eyes who are also waiting for external validation from some higher power to tell them whether or not they are right.

I want my “image” to be determined by my mind, my heart, my spirit because that shit is more consistent.

Autonomous.

It’s law pasted down by my own internal judge.