I was in a fitting room (where most of our body image horror stories take place) at Mango trying on a little black dress. It was perfect. Sleek, flattering and an absolute ‘Yes’ for my wallet. Instead of moving on to try on the next item, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. And it wasn’t like I was seeing myself for the first time. I look at myself every day and I actually like what I see.
The difference this time was, I saw something different – something physical. My body had changed. Not in an overly dramatic kind of way (I was the same size, same shape), but in a slow, sneaky shift over the past few months. Completely due to the fact that I’d been lifting more, eating more (mostly junk), and sleeping less. The result was clear: a bulkier frame, lower energy, and an incredible sense of shame and disgust.
I closed my eyes and told myself all the right things: Be Postive, Love Your Body, Embrace Your Curves. But the more I spoke these words, the less I felt good about myself. Between thoughts I’d open my eyes and look at my body, trying to find an angle that was flattering to my eyes. Within minutes, I was spiraling. Before I left the store, I’d already drafted a seven-day detox plan in my head. No processed foods. No sugar. More running. More water. I knew the next couple of weeks would be miserable – and worse, I knew exactly why I was doing it.
At some point the words, “body positivity” stopped feeling like an encouraging, inspirational message and started feeling like another standard I failed to meet.
I used to feel guilty about not having the “perfect” body. So I punished myself with strict diets. I cut out foods I actually loved, choked down vegetables and plain rice, and convinced myself that this was good for me. It was good for me because I’d love the results and be much happier then. And I can’t lie – I loved the results. It made me happy, but after a while, it wasn’t enough. Body dysmorphia crept in and I was back where I started.
So I flipped the script. I swapped out the images of what I thought I looked like with positive self talk and body affirmations. But here’s the truth no one wants to actually say: toxic positivity is still toxic.
Speaking negatively about my body is painful, but in the moment, it’s honest. Speaking positively, on the other hand, sometimes feels like a performance. Forced and rehearsed. Sure, fake it til you make it.. but all that pretending? It’s exhausting.
Now, don’t get me wrong – body positivity is absolutely important. We shouldn’t fill ourselves with negative self-talk constantly. But when it becomes another box to check or another standard to live up to, it also becomes another thing to feel guilty about when we fall short. And as humans, we will always fall short.
It’s a strange paradox: as a society we’ve publicly moved beyond diet culture (though Ozempic use is at an all time high), but there’s this unspoken rule that you have to be in a constant state of self-affirmation. As if body acceptance isn’t enough, you need to glow and radiate self-love every second of the day. Our Instagram TikTok, TV, and Commerical feeds are flooded with body-positive images 24/7. Real stretch marks, curves, hyperpigmentation. But even that kind of honesty has become its own aesthetic. The performance of imperfection.
Isn’t that in itself another form of obsession over your body? Are we talking about self-love, or are we obsessing about our bodies under a new hashtag?
Real empowerment shouldn’t require constant selfies to prove it. Not everyone wants to narrate their relationship with their body 24/7. Some of us just want to exist without all of the outside noise.
Again, I am not at all discrediting reclaiming false or damaging narratives about your body, or at all the media finally stripping back the decades of lies they fed us about what’s considered beautiful. This is much needed. I am saying that the actual cycle of loving vs hating your body should be stopped. We think about our bodies too much – both in positive and negative lights. What happened to eating for just taste? Training for a marathon not to lose weight or get in shape, but because it’s an incredible challenge for yourself. Working out to clear your mind and start your day – not focused on how many calories you’ve burned.
The most liberating thing you can do is take the pressure off. You don’t have to look in the mirror and love what you see all the time. You can look in the mirror and see a body that carries you through your life. That’s it. That’s more than enough.
Maybe that’s where the conversation needs to go next—not from shame to love, but from shame to ease. From constant striving to quiet acceptance. From “I have to love myself” to “I’m allowed to just be.”
