Earlier today I was relaxing in my most natural state (sitting on the couch, scrolling instagram with something from Netflix playing across the room). I scrolled to a multi-image post of a swimwear shoot from Athleta. I’m swiping through the images of a bunch of beautiful women in swimsuits, photos un-retouched, inclusive of all shapes and sizes. I looked at one of the models, who appeared to be happily bounding around in her bikini, and thought “well, she’s lovely because she has fat in the right places. My fat is in the wrong places.”
WHAT THE AF IS WRONG WITH ME?! If anyone said something like the thought I had about myself regarding someone I care for, I would be absolutely enraged. While I do count it as personal growth that I was able to recognize the harshness (and ridiculousness) of this thought almost immediately after it showed up completely uninvited, where does that leave me? I can usually catch myself when negative thoughts pop up, but sometimes the negativity builds like a rapidly growing magical beanstalk, where a single seed can grow into a mile-high stalk in a blink. Often I’m just lucky to have grabbed a branch on the way up.
This comic by Alex Norris captures my thoughts exactly. I just have to remember to also be nice t myself, just like I would to others (most of the time–nobody’s perfect). While easier said than done, it’s important to remember that positive self-talk is powerful. For me, the easiest way to start nice-thinking is to pretend I’m talking to someone I know. What would I tell my best friend if she had a bout of the self-meanies that left her feeling badly? What would I say to my sister?
I will admit that sometimes, after climbing carefully all the way back down a giant beanstalk, positivity and self-compassion aren’t readily available. When encouraging self-talk fails (or doesn’t show up) I opt for self-care. Emotionally, I might not always be able to remind myself that I’m doing okay or that my fat is in a fine place on my body, but I can treat myself to a bubble bath and begin rejuvenating the rough spots left behind by my own negative thoughts.
At the end of the day, the question remains unanswered but is perhaps more manageable. Why is it so much easier to look at others and find them lovely in all different shapes and sizes and uniquenesses, but showing that same kind of appreciation for my own flesh-suit feels impossible? If you know the answer, PLEASE enlighten us in the comments. If you don’t know the answer, please comment anyways so we can dig out those damned magic seeds together.