The Beauty and the Body: ISSUE THREE

Table of Contents 08 12 14 16 20

24 26 28 30 32 34 36 40

Beauty

Drôle de Monsieur Profitable Insecurities Role of Fashion Brands and Beauty in Advocacy Fallen Angels Aesthetic Nonconformity

Body

Experiential Learning Reflections Lil Waist, Fat Ass, Bitch, Tap In Shaping Womanhood Dance Freedom Tell Your Kids You Used to Be Thin A Guide to Fall Back in Love with Your Body

Media Case Study 44 Looking to the Future 42

Meet the Editorial Board

Sahana Narayan

FOUNDER & EDITOR IN CHIEF

Sahana Narayan is the Founder and Editor in Chief of 11 Seconds Magazine. She is an award-winning journalist, public health scholar, and aspiring physician.

Alex Ephstein CREATIVE CONTENT EDITOR

Alex Epshtein is the Creative Content Editor of 11 Seconds Magazine.

Alex has just completed their final year studying Global Health at King’s College London.

Kira Zizzo DIGITAL

Liz Zonarich VISUAL

CONTENT EDITOR

CONTENT EDITOR

Kira Zizzo is the Digital Content Editor of 11 Seconds Magazine.

She is an accomplished journalist and Hesburgh Yusko Scholar at the University of Notre Dame.

Liz Zonarich is a graphic designer based out of Boston, MA. She is a recent graduate of the Master of Science in Media, Medicine, and Health program at Harvard Medical School.

www.11secondsmagazine.com 4

Note From the Editor Dearest Reader, Did you miss me? I sure hope you did, which is why I am delighted to introduce you to Issue 3: The Beauty and The Body.

I will admit, this issue’s title was wholeheartedly inspired by The Beauty and the Beast – which is none other than a classic fairytale premised upon triumph, transformation, and redemption. Sure, in between the pages is a devotional love story of a (B)elle who falls in love with someone who seems physically grotesque and is perhaps even morally reprehensible. The origins of the story, a true French tale originating in the 1700s, does however ask us to do one thing: can you look beyond what you see to find what’s really inside? Whether that’s beauty, truth, love, or justice, there is something to be said about looking past what is right in front of us, to really discover the truth.

Medicine is, interestingly enough, a lot like this. Look beyond a set of symptoms, attached to a body we see in front of us, to come up with a diagnosis. It’s not a foolproof system. But these bodies that we see in front of us, much like the Beast’s own hypertrichosis, often tell a story that means more than what meets the eye. After all, how we define the body has changed, over centuries, through practice, technology, and even innovation. While the field of medicine views the body in distinct ways, a vessel for disease, a site for intervention, or even the physical manifestation of the person, we also know that popular media, discourse, and standards have redefined and shaped the body.

What does the body mean today? What does the female body mean today?

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Beauty Industry The beauty industry, as we know it, as we live and breath it, remains as elusive as it is coveted.

Now estimated at generating approximately $430 billion in revenue annually, its growth is projected to reach a height of $580 billion by 2027. With competition, “premiumization,” and disruption on the horizon for the market economically, it is just as worth it to consider the role it plays in our lives on a daily basis.

Be it fragrances, makeup, skincare, cosmetic surgeries, everything is on a rise. It permeates every platform. But beyond the commercial and the economical, there are social and political ramifications too. How do we define an industry that is so hellbent on defining us? This section of the issue will tackle the ways in which fashion, surgery, and beauty standards rely on our “profitable insecurities.”

Drôle de Monsieur

By Alex Ephstein

O

ne of the first stories I was ever their bodies to pass the test. Only a natural told, alongside millions of other beauty, such as Cinderella’s, can obtain young girls, was Cinderella. The this size. To their dismay, they had to watch unassuming, mistreated, princess who finds their sister win the future their mother had her true love at a ball, before escaping in a worked so hard for them to secure. carriage made of pumpkin at the stroke of This is but one of many stories that midnight, not leaving anything but a glass would follow where women’s bodies slipper to commemorate her presence in are at the centre of earning their male the memory of her soon-to-be prince. counterparts’ desire.

I also knew the original story, one I grew up watching Kiera Knightly that not many other children are aware faint because of her too-tight corset in of. Where Cinderella’s ‘ugly’ step sisters the first instalment of the Pirates of the grotesquely mutilate their bodies trying to Caribbean, when the actress herself was fit into this glass slipper. Their bodies are just 17 years old. Falling into the sea, only huge, their feet too big to pass the prince’s to have her love interest, Orlando Bloom, test of true-love. They go so far as to cut rescue her from suffocation by ripping the off their toes, at the encouragement of their corset open, much to her own mother’s mother. horror.

These characters were not created to In my teenage years, I laughed be liked, with their atrocious acts of utter alongside my own mother, watching one horror only meant to solidify the reader’s of our favourite films: ’The Other Woman’, distaste for them, seeing what lengths they where Cameron Diaz teams up with Leslie would go to in order to reach the future they Mann and Kate Upton to take down her so desperately desired, before Cinderella serial cheater boyfriend. stole it from them.

The film follows three women who Alas, finally the prince finds bond over seeking revenge for the man that Cinderella, and her tiny foot can fit in the did them all wrong. We watch eagerly as slipper that nobody else can. The ‘ugly’ their friendships blossom, yet body image step-sisters failed to morph and shrink still plays a central part of the film. Diaz’s

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character explains to Mann how to properly shave ‘down there’ in order to please her partner. She calls it a man’s ‘little patch of happiness’ as Mann ums and ahs to her explanation.

When Diaz finally encounters the third woman, Upton’s character, she is overcome with rage and jealousy over Upton’s perfect curves, questioning whether they were even ’natural’. Once Mann affirms that they definitely are natural, there is a comedic scene where Diaz is running across the beach towards Upton’s unassuming character, while the camera is slowly sliding up and down her body, securing a Baywatch-like shot.

Later in the film, the women put aside these physical differences and frustrations, forging a more authentic bond,and begin loving their own bodies individually.

At the end of the day, they are three conventionally beautiful, slim, white women who learn they are more than their looks, and are set up for very successful futures with husbands of their own. To conclude the film, acknowledging their own beauty and confidence made them more desirable.

In real-life, all three of these women are portrayed as the pinnacle of natural beauty.

Like many romantic comedies, The Other Woman had montages with backdrops of fun music while the women shaved every inch of their bodies in preparation for a date, while their male partner is shown in a few scenes, putting on a suit and cufflinks, maybe brushing their hair, or sometimes putting oil in their beards.

From Cinderella being praised for her

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petite frame, to Cameron Diaz teaching the other characters to shave, and the corset crushing Kiera Knightley’s ribs to accentuate her waist, women in media are constantly taught to change their natural features to look not only smaller, but also younger. This is thought to make them appear more desirable to the love-interests in these stories.

For example, let’s explore James Bond. Daniel Craig has been the famous super-spy ‘007’ for over 15 years. Within these 15 years, even though James Bond’s character has aged, as well as the actor who plays him, the women and love-interests in the films have all remained around the age of 25, usually taking the appearance of young, white women, played but the likes of Ana de Armas, Berenice Marlohe, and Monica Belluci.

As we l see Craig’s face develop forehead wrinkles and frown-lines, his hair thinning and turning silver, the women playing alongside him continue to exhibit high cheek-bones and glassy skin.

They fight in corsets, heels, with their long brown hair flowing over their shoulders.

So, why is it that men are permitted to age while women aren’t?

This is reflected by the 2022 Insider’s news for rating the ’Sexiest People Alive’.

While in the men’s sector, Chris Evans was voted the ’Sexiest Man Alive’, Kim Kardashian ’took the crown’ for the ’Sexiest Woman’. Chris was pictured on the cover of People in a t-shirt, folding his arms across his chest to expose his biceps, looking straight at the camera and frowning, with wrinkled lines just above his eyebrows and a slight stubble above his lip. Meanwhile Kim, in every picture in any magazine or advert is always wearing expensive clothing that accentuates her curves, never has any smile lines, or body-hair.

Chris looks natural, while Kim has lipstick, eyeliner and false eyelashes on, however the lighting hits her face so perfectly, this also looks almost natural. Like a mannequin. Kim and Chris are both 42 years old.

Both celebrities have commented on body-image in the past, with Chris saying he will be taking a break from acting due to the toll playing a superhero has taken on his body, and with Kim having only eaten tomatoes for the 2023 Met Gala in order to fit into Marilyn Monroe’s dress. Both celebrities have gone to extremely taxing and dangerous lengths to maintain their body-image, and as a reward have been selected as the most beautiful people alive.

Moreover, like in Cinderella and The

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Other Woman, there is an emphasis on these looks being achieved naturally. While Kim has admitted to getting some surgeries, her sisters have a hard time being as transparent, still denying most of their procedures and publicizing workouts and diet plans to help the general public achieve the same. There is an increasing pressure for this bodyimage to remain ‘naturally’ attainable, for people who aren’t as wealthy as the richest families in the world. Kim has since dissolved some of her implants, the first step taken to setting realistic goals to reach unrealistic standards.

By up-keeping these idealised identities, both Kim and Chris have perpetuated an unhealthy obsession with unattainable natural beauty. Moreover, unlike Chris, Kim has been getting some backlash recently in the media due to the release of un-edited paparazzi photos, where she’s not wearing as much makeup or you can see her smile lines or the wrinkles on her hands are beginning to show. People are looking for any excuse to not have to put their bodies through as much strain to look like Kim at the age that she does. Not even celebrities can keep up with the beauty standards they themselves set.

However, returning to the original question, why is it that Chris is barely wearing makeup and his wrinkles aren’t edited out, yet he is still voted the ’Sexiest Man Alive’?

Men are allowed to show expression, laugh, smile, frown, age naturally. Chris has not faced the backlash that Kim has done for merely ageing.

In a similar fashion, women are constantly being marketed anti-ageing serums, hair-removal creams, botox, slimming outfits or diets, to keep their bodies from looking older than 25, just as the media taught us from such a young age. There is an increased pressure to reach society’s standard of perfection.

Men are not often faced with the same sentiment. While men can grow, age and remain loud, women must remain young and petite so they don’t take up space. This is how the patriarchy dictates that they remain objects of desire, their bodies being commodified to set a certain social standard. Chris and Kim have found a way to gain popularity through this cycle of patriarchal commodification, using this system to gain publicity and monetary reward, which only perpetuates these unattainable patriarchal standards of perfection further. And so, the rigorous cycle continues.

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Profitable Insecurities

By Kira Zizzo

I

n our consumer-driven society, women’s bodies have become commodities, exploited for profit by capitalizing on their insecurities.

From a very young age, girls are indoctrinated with the notion that their worth hinges on physical appearance. The message is clear: the more attractive you are, the easier your path in life, the more likable you become. This indoctrination starts early, as young girls lay on their bedroom floors and thumb through magazines featuring unnaturally thin models and articles promoting dangerous diets. Girls grow to internalize the belief that their bodies define their value.

Various forms of media perpetuate these insecurities, constantly shifting the ideals of the “perfect body.” Whether through platforms like TikTok, Instagram, or magazine celebrity coverage, women are bombarded with ever-changing body trends.

The ‘ideal’ body has transformed over time, from the taller, curvier look of the 1940s to the super-skinny ideal of the 1960s-1970s.

Women’s spending power has made them a significant target for corporations aiming to profit from constantly adapting beauty standards. The razor industry is a prime example.

At the turn of the 20th century, women

generally weren’t concerned about removing leg or underarm hair. However, depilatory cream companies seized the opportunity as fashion evolved, painting body hair as undesirable. Gillette, for instance, promoted the concept that body hair on women was masculine and unhygienic, convincing women into using their products.

By the 1960s, almost all women between 15 and 44 were removing body hair, thanks in part to the promotion of these ideals in magazines. The 1980s saw a focus on making women more appealing to men, while the 1990s and 2000s emphasized the importance of a hairless body in response to changing fashion trends. Today, shaving has become the norm for women, yet they often face the “pink tax” – paying more for razors than men.

One cosmetic surgery with a surging popularity is the Brazilian Butt Lift, despite its alarmingly high mortality rate of 1 in 3,000. Why do women subject themselves to such risks? The answer lies in the relentless pressure to achieve the ‘perfect body,’ a pressure that stems not only from influencers and TV but also from the profitdriven system we inhabit.

Society’s ideas about women’s roles perpetuate the sexualization and scrutiny of our bodies from a young age.The ever-

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present availability of apps like Facetune and filters distort self-perception, offering women cost-driven solutions through presenting unrealistic, eurocentric versions of themselves.

Influencer culture has inundated society with unattainable beauty standards and constant opportunities for comparison.

The media’s obsession with celebrities’ weight fluctuations condition women to fear their bodies changing, with fatphobia becoming a highly profitable industry, valued at $586 billion globally.

M a r k e t i n g campaigns promise to smooth skin, tone muscles, cinch waists, erase flaws, and alter complexions.

Natural bodily functions are portrayed as flaws to be fixed with quick solutions like Botox, smoothing cream, or diet pills.

The inseparable link between the marketing industry’s advancement and the rise in body dysmorphia among young people is a result of a relationship carefully cultivated by multi-billion dollar corporations..

It’s not you, it’s the beauty industry.

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The Role of Fashion and Beauty Brands in Health Advocacy

By Helena Kudiabor

T

he last few years, particularly following the pandemic, have led to increased discussions about the importance of physical and mental health, and how we can look after ours. Such discussions have led to the astronomical growth of the wellness industry, currently projected to reach $7 trillion by 2025, as well as a range of wellness initiatives across different industries. The fashion and beauty industry is no exception.

Research highlights a complex, yet undeniable relationship between fashion and mental health. Getting dressed is a regular task for us all, and the clothes and makeup we choose to wear allow us to express our sense of self, as well as how we want to be perceived by others. They can help us figure out who we are and who we align with.

The clothes and makeup we wear can be an expression of our sexuality or gender identity, and can even be used as a form of political activism, evident with the design of pins, clothing items and accessories that support political causes, as well as the extensive history of protest fashion.

Having more freedom with our fashion choices can provide a boost to our mental wellbeing, with a survey finding 96% of individuals felt a change in their emotional state depending on the outfit they wore. Many find that certain

colors, patterns or items of clothing help them feel more confident, as a result of color psychology and the memories our clothes hold. Color psychology is the study of how different colors affect our mood and behavior, with the color red being associated with passion and excitement, while the color green is typically associated with nature and freshness. While our exact perceptions of different colors differ depending on our cultures and histories, research has shown that athletes in combat sports wearing red are more likely to win their game than those wearing blue, showing just how powerful color is.

The power fashion has to boost our wellbeing may be innate, but many fashion and beauty brands have turned this into tangible wellness initiatives.

Since 2000, Ralph Lauren’s pink pony campaign (a pink version of its Polo Pony icon) has been committed to reducing disparities in cancer treatment.

When consumers purchase the Pink Pony unisex fleece jumper or the Pink Pony oxford shirt, 100% of the purchase price is donated to Ralph Lauren’s fight against cancer, or an international network of cancer charities. In 2014, the organization partnered with the Royal Marsden Hospital, the most extensive cancer center in Europe, to develop a world-class research facility to improve

breast cancer care. La Roche Posay also launched a partnership with Macmillan Cancer Support, to raise money to support people living with cancer and assist those struggling with skin-related side effects of cancer treatment. Following the overturn of Roe v. Wade in the US, E.L.F beauty donated $75,000 (£59,000) to Planned Parenthood, and matched employee donations. Meanwhile, Selena Gomez’s Rare Beauty is committed to mental health advocacy, providing numerous mental wellbeing resources on their website and donating 1% of sales to mental health services.

Fashion has even been used as a tool to provide educational and support services to marginalizedmarginalised groups. In Philadelphia, the sex education and social justice organizationorganisation Prevention Meets Fashion works to provide educational and support services to LGBTQ+ people of color, and aims to reach this group through fashion. The organization clothing donation drives for LGBTQ+ people of color experiencing financial difficulties, a support group, educational programmes on the intersection of social justice and fashion and even sexual health advice. The organizationorganisation’s advocacy work highlights the value of fashion beyond clothing, particularly the power it has to support marginalizedmarginalised groups physically and emotionally.

While a genuine desire for philanthropism is behind many of these initiatives, health advocacy among fashion and beauty brands allows them to target an evolving market: the conscious consumer. 56% of Europeans

consider themselves to be conscious consumers, meaning they shop with sustainability in mind, considering ethics of the objects they purchase and the brands they purchase from. To reach this market, a number of companies are keen to acknowledge the interdependence of business and society, and balance profit with social or environmental objectives.

Although making donations and ensuring ethically sourced products may sound counterproductive from a commercial perspective, these costs are often offset by cutting costs in other areas, such as by limiting the advertising budget.

Given the popularity of the conscious consumer market, concerns have been raised about whether companies deceive their consumers into believing their products are more ethical than they actually are, in order to benefit from the market.

This is an issue worth considering for conscious consumers, who must consider whether the message of the companies they purchase alignpurchase from align with their actions. For instance, if a company donates money to cancer research charities, but their products contain known carcinogens, how ethically conscious is that company?

Getting ready for the day is a universal experience. The clothes we wear, the makeup and skincare we utilizeutilise signify how we see ourselves, and how we wish to be seen.

Providing that companies ensure their business practices align with their health advocacy initiatives, the universality of fashion and beauty puts these companies in an important position to advocate for change.

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Fallen Angels

By Alex Ephstein

W

hen you hear ‘Victoria’s Secret’, what is the first thought that pops into your head? The classic, original Angels, striding down a runway in six-inch heels and lacy lingerie, their diamond encrusted wings towering over their long, luscious hair. Power eluding them with every strut.

These are the bodies I grew up watching, aspiring to achieve. Bodies I worked hard for but never managed to obtain. Bodies that taught me envy and jealousy and self-hatred. These Angels were part of an exclusive club I couldn’t join, but desperately wanted to be a part of.

Not until these Angels started to speak up did my vail of naivety finally begin to lift. Their skin wasn’t unblemished, it was photoshopped. Their bodies weren’t born this way, they were moulded through surgery, disordered eating and rigorous exercise.

But by then, the damage had already been done.

Watching these models, I spent so much time peeling ill-fitting clothes away from my body. Years of tearing and pulling at skin, muscle and bone. Hours of stretching, tugging and damaging to look like something that shouldn’t have even been possible.

I had worked my body so hard my joints screamed against sleep. My body was too big, too curvy, too full. I gained muscle and strength, instead of losing fat like they did. Eventually, food became my enemy too.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I felt like a beast compared to those girls.

Because that was the problem.

Comparison. I saw them train and workout and eat. I thought these were tests of endurance and strength. These girls were Olympians, pushing their bodies to the limit every day to achieve something only the most elite could obtain; only Angels could obtain. I saw everything VS wanted me to see. Until, some of those Angels were brave enough to lift that glamour of VS, allowing me to take a look inside.

And what did we see? Something that brought these Angels back down to earth.

An earth that was messy, painful, imperfect.

Models being abused, starved, drugged, unpaid.

Images that shattered my dreams and

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set me free. I slowly learnt it was okay not to be like those girls. The routines they had were not desirable. Their bodies were being used as marketing strategies, ones that admittedly worked.

When I saw the most recent campaign photos, the feelings of dysmorphia arose but not in a way I recognised.

Girls and women of different sizes, skin textures and colours had been squashed and stuffed into the classic clothes and signature, luscious lingerie that VS specialised in. I felt familiarity, nostalgia, déjà vu. I remembered wearing these corsets and bralettes, how they made me feel.

Expecting to feel powerful, like the Angels once did, but instead feeling disgusted. I remembered spilling out of them while trying to look like they did, the standard I held for beauty.

Now these images I tried to hide in the depths of my mind are floating back to the surface. Cascading from the crevices I had created for them, in the darkest corners of my conscience. I now know these women are stunning. They are healthy, strong, and durable. VS knows that, or at least they finally acknowledge that impressionable, young girls like I once was, look up to these women, and maybe if they market their clothes through them, they reach a whole new audience. Instead, these bodies served as a reminder of my exclusion.

While there is a new array of bodies, the sizes of the lingerie remained the same.

The feelings I had felt didn’t come from a place of envy as they once had, but rather acknowledgement that I did not belong. I saw their restricted curves and I thought of my younger self staring at the mirror. This just further solidified for me that this club, one still dominated by shadows of the original Angels, was not made for people like me. I should stop striving to force myself into somewhere I don’t belong, or into something that doesn’t fit.

For me, and I’m sure many others, this is the message VS’s new campaign sends.

Not the intended theme of diversity and inclusion, but yet again confirming that normal bodies do not belong within this exclusive pantheon. However, this does not mean they do not deserve to feel sexy or powerful wearing lingerie. And I am okay with this.

I am not an Angel.

I am not a beast.

I am a girl.

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I wrote this piece in the aftermath of Victoria Secret’s ‘Embracing Diversity and Inclusivity’ campaign during October 2023.

Since then, there have not been many changes to their brand strategy.

On the other hand, during Milan Fashion Week, Maison Margiela debuted their Spring Summer 2024 collection on the runway.

Like Victoria Secret, alongside m u l t i p l e other brands, in October 2023 Maison Margiela announced that they too are looking forward and trying to make fashion more inclusive, even focusing on making fashion more genderinclusive.

They were one of the only couture fashion brands to include plus size models on the runway. Actually, they seemed to transcend all physically identifying factors such as colour, size and gender, while not eliminating the models’ histories, cultures, and individuality.

For a dark Victorian-era style brand,

a time notorious for racism, sexism, and homophobia, Maison Margiela was still able to deliver an original, unique and stylish set with extravagant art, makeup and refreshing silhouettes.

Throughout the fashion show, they paid homage to different body-types, exemplifying curves and celebrating size with garments that clearly fit the models’ measurements, letting them comfortably walk down the runway.

Gwendoline Christie closed the fashion show.

Since her role playing Brienne of Tarth in Game of Thrones, Gwendoline explained that she is often asked to portray masculine figures, especially due to her height. Gwendoline has expressed in interviews that while she doesn’t mind playing androgynous characters, she would also like to recognise her feminine side.

Seeing her strut down the runway in 6 inch heels, dripping in a flowy, yet form-fitting, corseted, latex dress made my eyes widen and

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my jaw fall open. Maison Margiela had heard her, and had listened.

The show became a simultaneous celebration of femininity and a symbol of subverting the gender binary. Gwendolyn didn’t look like an Angel walking down that runway. No – she exuded the power of a God. In her own words: ‘dreams come true.’ And after watching people’s reaction to the show on social media, seeing everyone recreating this iconic, unconventional walk, or designing their own interpretation of the now-viral ‘glass makeup’, it felt like mine did too.

It not only healed my inner child, but re-introduced my childlike wonder. I looked at my wardrobe and chose garments I would usually shy away from. I’d lift them and push the fabric against my skin while looking in the mirror, thinking of someone that resembled my body walking with such prowess, down a long runway, her curves and height accentuated rather than hidden, representing a world-renowned fashion brand.

For the first time, it made me question everything I thought I knew about looking beautiful:

Do I need to cinch my waist every time I leave my house? What actually makes my silhouette look ‘flattering’?

It is time to be bold. It is time to take up space. The girl inside me seemed to whisper.

Clearly, there is a difference between the breadth of style in the fashion world, especially when comparing high-fashion couture to luxury lingerie, however I think the argument is still legitimate: while the former is marketing art, the latter is commercialising sex and heavily relies on the gendered norms of a patriarchal society.

For Victoria Secret, diversifying their brand strategy can never coincide with their overarching values, unless these values are changed from within.

It is clear to me which brand respects the audience they are trying to appeal to, and genuinely wants to improve and adapt, while the other is struggling to remain relevant in a fast-approaching progressive society. I hope Maison Margiela continues to spark inspiration in the world around them.

I’m excited to see this celestial battle play out in 2024 – I’ve bet my money on who will win.

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Aesthetic Nonconformity

By Jacki Huntington

“Aesthetic nonconformity”: that was my medical diagnosis. As I read through the informed consent paperwork in the days leading up to my cosmetic surgery, I laughed out loud alone in my apartment. I was about to get a septorhinoplasty, a nose job that would address both the appearance and the function of my nose. It was a procedure I’d coveted since puberty transformed my face into something more austere than I comfortably identified with.

I had moved to Mexico City some months prior. After smoking weed one night and looking at myself in the mirror for too long, I realized that in all of my years of disliking my nose, I had never even attempted to have a consultation with a plastic surgeon. I realized, too, how much cheaper a nose job would be in Mexico compared to American pricing. In my stoned contemplation, I gave myself permission to abandon my pseudo-feminist allegiance to my birth nose. After all, wasn’t it just a hypocritical coping mechanism in a world of shifting norms, advancing technology and consumerist delights?

I found a plastic surgeon with before-andafters that I liked, and I began to prepare myself.

What does it mean to conform aesthetically? A medical diagnosis of “aesthetic nonconformity” suggests an objectivist view of my “need” to bring my features to comply with a set of proportions. It implies that a variety of plastic surgeons could see me for a consultation and come to the same conclusion.

However, in aesthetic medicine (as in medicine generally) these diagnoses are a bit more subjective than that, with the patient making a request to which the clinician must respond. Aesthetic medicine, in a subjectivist light, could be considered a “medicine of desires,” as some Italian researchers have pessimistically put it in a 2015 opinion piece in the Archives of Plastic Surgery. However, the truth of

this medical pursuit of aesthetic conformity and, yes, beauty, lies somewhere in between those two poles of “subject” and “object” in a relational space. I liken this relational aspect of beauty to Rachel Alsop and Kathleen Lennon’s concept of the “expressive body”– something we can modify in order to change the way that we relate to others and them to us.

In addition to changing my nose, by the suggestion of my surgeon, I opted also to shorten my philtrum (the skin between the upper lip and the nostrils) with a procedure known as a bullhorn lip lift. This, in concert with the septorhinoplasty, would reconfigure the proportions of my face into something softer, rounder, more feminine and – I suppose – more aesthetically conformed. What could be possible, I wondered, with a slightly different face, one that better fit my subjective view of myself? How would it change me? How would it change how others see me? Ultimately, how would it change my lived experience?

The manifestations of normative aesthetics have changed throughout history. Similarly, aesthetic surgery has changed as a practice and a profession dramatically in the past 100 years. In recent decades, one’s collection of natural beauty traits have increasingly come to be viewed as a rough draft to be revised. The body, as socio-linguist AnneMette Hermans wrote in Discourses of Perfection, is marketed more and more as something malleable – a “project.”

As someone socialized and identifying as femme, my “project” is lifelong. My interventions in pursuit of beauty can be viewed on a spectrum. On the innocuous and socially acceptable end, there’s skincare, fashion, physical exercise, makeup, diet, and the braces that wrested my crooked pre-teen teeth into line. On the more stigmatized end there is the nose job, the lip lift, the Botox I once had injected

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into my jaw to make it slimmer, the “baby” Botox I had injected into my forehead just to see how I liked it, and whatever might be next (a brow lift?). To acknowledge this spectrum of stigma is to acknowledge the social utility of objective medical language in describing beauty. For example, many people couch their aesthetic rhinoplasties in medically necessary language to avoid appearing vain – a trait that is apparently still frowned upon in Western culture. As I have noted, my own nose job was, in fact, advantageous to my breathing capabilities, and perhaps I could have petitioned for its medical necessity for the sake of insurance coverage. However, if I’m honest, I would have lived with my crooked septum if only I had liked the appearance of my birth nose.

Psychology, of course, is at the heart of this pursuit of beauty, but the economy is, too. My willingness to consume products and technologies that allow me to modify my body – objectively, subjectively and relationally – is indicative not just of my pursuit of a beautiful body, but my pursuit of a beautiful life. If we reframe beauty as a form of capital (social and otherwise), we can understand why it is pursued both as a commodity and a desired outcome in a medical context. Still, the gray area between the subjective and objective – the “elective” and the “medically necessary” – makes people uncomfortable. I mean, as a feminist, it certainly makes me uncomfortable, which is likely why I am so attracted to writing about it.

The queer-ish feminist argument against cosmetic interventions in pursuit of beauty goes something like this: By enabling the transformation of “aesthetically nonconforming” people to conform, we narrow not just the definition of beauty, but also the spectrum of acceptable “expressive selves.” It makes normative beauty a social imperative, which is twisted.

And I get that. I really do. I get it, but I also got cosmetic surgery.

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The Body Unique to the body, as it is conceptualized and understood, is the ways in which it is constructed and reconstructed. For science, the body is a machine, a set of systems that work in tandem, a well-oiled and fine tuned thing that functions properly. For businesses, just like our “Beauty Industry” section demonstrates, the body is nothing more than a business – a place to house insecurities and rules and flaws and improvements. But if you step back, look deeper into the philosophy of the body, of the phenomenology of the body, it becomes clear that, like Maurice Merleau-Ponty suggests, “The body is our general medium for having a world.” The body will always experience itself and others; it will always dually exist. A body is where the tangible and the intangible meet – a debate that has gone on since ancient times, when the body was first viewed to be immaterial and then countered by Descartes as part of his argument on modern subjectivism. The body has been defined and redefined, leveraged against parameters that have known no bounds for centuries and it is with that certainty that I give you this next section. The body IS our medium for having a world, for being our world, and how we define it is really, truly, up to ourselves.

BODY

Experiential Learning

By Bailey Merlin I. My stepmother teaches me how to shave the summer I turn 12. She stands beside the tub, hands me a can of foaming cream, tells me which way to drag the blade. I wear jeans in the heat of July to hide my skin from my real mother.

She finds out, of course, as mothers always do, when I curl my legs up in the passenger seat of our Oldsmobile (or maybe it’s the Saturn she gives me when I’m 15.

Memories get so smudged).

As I nap, her finger taps my bare leg.

What a fool I’d been to wear shorts in the 98° heat!

My mother slaps me awake, tells me only prostitutes shave above the knee.

She doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.

When I try to get her attention in the fabric store, she looks right through me.

Crying beside a bolt of damask, I vow to never shave my legs again.

My resolve crumbles a week later when the stubble feels rough on my palm.

I love the way my skin feels when it is freshly cut.

My skin is a fresher shade of peach without hair to obscure it.

My mother’s upset no longer matters.

I’d rather be hairless.

One night soon after, I realize there are other places to shave.

I don’t remember the day my pussy hair grew.

One day she was smooth; the next it was there.

Somehow, some way, that place below my belly was just like a woman’s. I liked the way it looked.

But I like the sense of smoothness, so I shave those lower lips. I’m too young to understand my power.

The guests I invite over the years always compliment my eye for design. It’s nice to hear, but I’m the one who lives here.

The arrangement is for me.

So, without anyone ever telling me how I develop a loving relationship with my pussy.

Sometimes love isn’t enough.

II. I get my first UTI at 18. I am in so much pain I think I’m going into renal failure.

In the urgent care with my ex-boyfriend’s mother, the doctor (a man) takes one look at my chart, gives me a prescription for Fosfomycin without looking me in the eye.

My second UTI? An urgent care nurse (a woman) asks me if I’ve ever had a pelvic exam.

I haven’t.

The word “gynecologist” is as foreign to me as any Finnish phrase.

When I admit my lack, she tells me I should look into getting one, but I definitely need to pee after sex.

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III. The only gynecological care I can afford is a free birth control trial when I am 25.

During my intake, I display my period tracker with pride.

Every flow is accounted for, with pain notations.

When asked about my last visit to the gynecologist, I blush. I’ve never been.

Do doctors make you nervous?

No, not at all.

There’s a sly smile, a secret I’m meant to know.

You don’t need to be embarrassed.

We’ve seen everything.

It’s not something I wanted to do today.

Another chuckle. We’re friends now.

She talks me through the logistics, outlines all the key players, shows me the tools of the trade.

Now, it’s time to scoot down. Way down.

A little more.

A little more.

Just a scooch more.

Perfect.

Can you spread your legs wider for me?

You’re going to feel my hand up your thigh.

The latex is foreign on everything it touches.

I’ve never been so exposed.

My anxiety starts to creep over, she says, Okay, everything looks good. Pink and healthy.

I resist the urge to touch my lap. There’s nothing shameful there. Oh, I’m not embarrassed.

Then why?

No one ever told me why I should go.

I’m elated. My gynecologist thinks my pussy looks good.

Even the speculum can’t bring me down.

IV.

V.

I sit on the exam table in a dress, no underwear, a piece of tissue paper draped over my lap.

My skin is sensitive. I shaved my whole leg, well over the knee, and my lips, just for the occasion. I want to look my best.

I want to impress the doctor.

I buy us a treat for being so brave and making the honor roll.

Eating ice cream naked in bed, I read the brochures the nurse gave us to ensure optimal health.

I agree with all the points, promise to obey each one. I will not douche, will only wear cotton, will always pee after sex.

All of this, I swear to you.

Except the last: do not shave.

There’s a knock on my door; a woman appears.

If a stranger is going to look at my pussy today, I’m glad it’s her.

I hear we’re having a pelvic exam.

I hope so. Otherwise, I’m half-naked for no reason.

We chuckle.

I also hear you’ve never had one of these before.

Correct.

Are you nervous?

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Reflections By Liz Zonarich

Lil’ Waist, Fat Ass, Bitch, Tap In

By Ashley Croker-Benn

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he body of a woman is constantly ogled.

What does a healthy woman look like, or an unhealthy woman? The illusion of our societal biases allows us to assume that we can tell if a person is healthy or not just by a glance at their body. We call these prejudices true when they are based on frivolous desires and what we think reality should be. This continues to be one of our great downfalls as a society.

I think I always knew I wasn’t healthy growing up. Although I was thin, I wasn’t actually getting the proper nutrients I needed. I had a problem with food.

My family told me that from a toddler to a young child, I would eat paper and other non-food items. They described me as a picky eater; if the food didn’t look a particular way, I simply wouldn’t eat. Even when I was hospitalized at one point and the nurse warned me that if I didn’t eat, they would “throw me in the garbage can,” I still refused to eat though this terrified me as a little girl. I didn’t really start to eat until I discovered McDonald’s.

McDonald’s was everything to me. I would crave it daily. There was a point in time when I could demolish two Big Mac meals in a day. I could down a 2-liter bottle of coke all by myself and it would fill me. McDonald’s was cheap, accessible, and easier for my exhausted family members than coming home to cook food that I would not eat anyway. This trend of consistent McDonald’s continued for many years, but at least I was eating something.

The unhealthy eating habits for junk food persisted throughout my childhood and well into my teens. In grade school, I would only eat 2-4 cookies from the cafeteria for my lunch. I was NOT putting the nasty cafeteria food in my mouth after I saw other kids bouncing the chicken nuggets on the floor to see how high they went. I didn’t think food should bounce like that. In college, I was finally free to drink as much soda and eat as much junk food as I wanted without

anyone nagging me. Apart from a few jokes about my eating habits, no one called me out on it and I wasn’t concerned since I had a very high metabolism. No matter what I ate, I looked skinny and that meant I was healthy enough, right?

At the time, I hated drinking water and didn’t like other juices, so coke was the only thing I would drink. I was either only eating one meal a day, forgetting to eat altogether, or drinking coke throughout the day to make up for the missing meals.

I didn’t truly understand what all of these unhealthy foods and chemicals were doing to my body at a young age. After all, I was finally an average weight, because I was eating. I thought eating more junk food would help since I wanted to gain weight. I would rationalize it. If I didn’t eat these unhealthy foods, I would lose weight, and I didn’t want to be any skinnier than I already was. I didn’t feel beautiful in the body I had.

So, junk food became a great comfort.

It wasn’t until after college that I put action into making some healthier choices. I wanted to look like the girls I saw on social media with the snatched waist and wide hips. I cooked more, started adding vegetables to my diet, and began working out about an hour or two each day. I was starting to feel good about myself and the changes I was making. I had abs, which is what I thought I always wanted, and felt like I was making the right moves to be healthier. After all, don’t all healthy people have abs?

But in 2020 I lost a considerable amount of weight within two months and was about 90 pounds.

I was disgusted with how my body looked. I wanted to look like the girls I saw on Instagram with abs and curves. I hated looking at myself in the mirror and seeing how skinny I had gotten. During the pandemic, I was working out a lot and had stopped eating fast foods and drinking coke but somehow felt unhealthier than I ever did before. I was doing all the right things,

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so why did I feel so weak? I was scared. I knew 90 pounds was underweight for my height and heard of people passing away from too much weight loss. I stopped working out altogether and went back to my old eating habits of junk food until I slowly began to gain weight again.

It wasn’t until much later, after speaking to my therapist, that I realized the real issue. I never had healthy eating habits to begin with. I wasn’t getting enough nutrients. Sure, eating fast food was helping me gain weight and stay a little active throughout the day, but that didn’t have the real nutrients I needed. Additionally, even when I tried to cut out junk food, I was still really only eating one meal a day. My sleep pattern was also severely off; I wouldn’t wake up in time for breakfast.

I would stay up until 4 or 5 AM and wake up around noon or 1 PM, sometimes later if I didn’t have work. My body’s equilibrium was off and I didn’t pay it any mind for so long since I “looked healthy.” I would get compliments on my body but felt uncomfortable in it. I realized I not only had to eat healthier foods but also needed to have healthier eating habits and a more sustainable lifestyle overall.

It’s worth mentioning that part of the reason my sleep and eating patterns were off was because I was very depressed, honestly for years. I didn’t like myself very much and didn’t consider myself to be beautiful, which affected how I viewed and treated my body.

I didn’t see the value in eating better when I didn’t admire who I was. There were moments of happiness, but for the most part, if I could, I would sleep all day and either not eat, eat very little, or sometimes gorge on junk food.

So I started doing better and learning how to truly love myself. I focused on trying to improve different areas of my health like mental, social, environmental, and physical health. I became more aware of my destructive coping habits like revenge bedtime procrastination and emotional eating and tried to change them. Each week I tried to go to bed a little earlier. Whenever something would trigger me and I felt the urge to buy junk food I didn’t need, I would try to think about what made me feel triggered and journal or sing to get the emotions out. I learned more about the types of nutrients my body needs and learned more about nutritional science.

I started exercising again but not overdoing it, making

sure I ate in a way that would nourish me and fuel my body. I eat three meals a day or, on my worst days, at least two. My appetite grew and my desire to try new foods did too. I started trying different vegetables and fruits and reintroduced myself to foods that I had insisted I didn’t like when I was younger. I drank more water and switched from coke to sprite (a little better).

I made these changes because I wanted loving myself and self-care to be more than just lip service I was preaching and not doing. With these changes, therapy, and changes to my environment, I started feeling better and my depression actually lifted, which I thought would stay with me forever. This gave me more energy to stay consistent and value myself as well as my health and well-being.

Through this process, I also put on more weight. I’m not going to lie. I was upset about it. Ironically, I wanted to be curvier for so long, and now that I am I’m still a little dissatisfied.

I had always been praised for being skinny by family members, friends, and people who didn’t even know me. So of course after losing what I thought was part of my identity, there would be some complicated feelings. But I’m learning to tune out other’s comments.

I’m choosing myself. I’m choosing my health over appearance. I’m learning what a proper diet looks like for me and reminding myself that good health should not be influenced by a desired appearance but rather by a sustainable lifestyle, a loving sense of self, and healthy choices.

I’m not going to pretend I did a complete 180.

There are days when I am unkind to myself, don’t drink enough water, or eat more fast food than I would like. But I am working on it; this journey is not linear.

Overall, I finally feel healthier. I am happier, and falling in love with myself. I don’t blame my younger self for her lifestyle choices. I understand why I made those choices and the mental state I was in. But I am thankful and proud of myself for coming this far and prioritizing my health. I’m not comparing my struggles to anyone else; these are mine. I have to own and accept them and keep moving forward while also giving myself some grace. I hope whatever health challenges you’ve had, that you give yourself grace too and continue to love yourself fully and unapologetically.

- A former coke (cola) fiend

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Shaping Womanhood

By Maryam Idris Bappa

Fashioned in clay and canvas, and delivered as a fragile gift, She is a prophecy you cannot see, because your eyes lie rotten in a casket, encased in society’s blind sockets.

In your front lies her infant self, but you can only see her as an apparition, of a woman carved in the eighth figure ascending a glorified pedestal of womanhood.

The vision motivates you to pick up your scalpels filling and cutting at her imperfections.

With wrinkled hands you mold her to perfection. while ignoring her throaty cries for Mama’s milk, echoing ‘stop!’ into your conscience, But as sculptors ordained by culture, Her cries are motivational melodies in your studio.

Urging you to fulfill her feminine destiny. by equipping her with the body she needs to become one day a beauty.

Time and good health offers you a visa.

It is time to swallow the future you chewed You drop your scalpels and pick up your lab coats. because as her wedding day draws near so does her parole of innocence.

Now it is time for you to become gynecologists. with your strong aphrodisiacs and enemas, You finish the job of recreation you started many years ago. so that she becomes the ultimate vessel.

One of pleasure and procreation.

Alas, In Africa, Noses live on unwanted streets.

Hushed tones erupt to become gossip.

‘The woman wedded for years without fruit.’ because you have decided to challenge God’s art by throwing her once again in your kiln.

Now she is on the verge of taking her life deep rooted in shame of the empty vessel you made her to be…

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Dance

By Rose Monet Little

Passion flows through her body with every demand from the beat She pleases her mother, her sister, her teacher, and maybe even herself Pretty black swan Long neck and graceful arms sway to an effortless dance She flows to the rhythm and blues Illuminating her beauty in every turn, twirl, and fine point on stage Inevitably, the flow drifts her into the false reality of expectations Dangerous opinions Scaring tones Unsolicited disappointment Claiming her beauty isn’t her own Her worth claims to be nothing To her younger self that needed a friend, love, and freedom To the women she has become today Strong and beautiful Not tied down to a number, a role, a dance, or a structured opinion A women Continuing to flow to the rhythm and blues Just now, to her own beat

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Freedom

By Rose Monet Little

The image of herself wasn’t her own Shorter, Thinner, Flatter The false perceptions plague into her reality Pleasing others but never herself The scale Its calculations scream what is suitable The numbers pledge the most worthy, beautiful, and perfect Strict standards of care Checks and boxes Rights and wrongs Please remember, Pretty black swan There are no demands upon you Continue along your effortless dance

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Tell Your Kids You Yse to Be Thin

By Maryelien Goodman

N

ausea. Vomiting. Exhaustion.

These symptoms are no surprise to anyone familiar with pregnancy.

They’re common and often disappear on their own.

But sometimes they don’t. Both times I got pregnant, I experienced ongoing, gutwrenching nausea vomiting for the entire length of the pregnancies. It felt as though my doctors and nurses had one lens to evaluate the health of the pregnancy—the baby’s growth and development—and as long as that was on track and there was no acute risk to me or my baby, nothing else mattered.

With my first pregnancy, the nausea came around week seven. It was intense and relentless. I threw up first thing every morning, usually on the side of the road while walking my dog. When I got home, I would nibble crackers and sip Gatorade. Sometimes it worked. Often it didn’t. I usually threw up once more before heading out to work.

At work, where I kept soothing teas, such as peppermint and ginger, and easy-todigest snacks to help me get through the day. I always brought a toothbrush and toothpaste to keep in my drawer, rarely making it through the workday without throwing up again.

“This is totally normal and nothing to worry about,” the doctors reassured me, after they measured the baby’s growth and saw it was progressing normally. “Just make sure you’re

eating because the baby needs nutrients to keep growing!”

They said it would get better in the second trimester. It didn’t.

Finally, in week 13 or 14, the doctor prescribed the anti-nausea medication Zofran and Zantac for heartburn. The drugs helped with the nausea, but I kept vomiting. Sometimes it was just bile, dark orange and extremely bitter.

I can still remember the taste.

And yet, the pregnancy progressed as it should. Finally, after 63 grueling hours of labor, I delivered a beautiful, healthy baby. As exhausted as I felt, I thought the doctors must have been right, that my symptoms were just part of the normal course of events because everything had worked out.

Those first weeks with a newborn were brutal. I was dehydrated and weak, both from the excruciating labor and from the nine months before. I had gained 20 pounds during my pregnancy, but within two weeks of giving birth, I lost 25 pounds. I was gaunt, thinner than before my pregnancy. At our first six-week check-up, I mentioned how hard it was and how depleted I felt. The midwife smiled and nodded sympathetically. The baby looked healthy, and I was mobile. Tiredness was part of being a new mom. No follow-up was needed.

I muddled through the following days and months. Sometimes I felt like I was moving through a haze, but it got easier over time, and

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it certainly helped that my baby was delightful.

When I found out I was pregnant again 15 months later, I hoped my experience would be different. This time, I made it about nine weeks before starting to throw up. Because of my hard-earned knowledge, I asked for Zofran earlier.

“This happens often,” I was told. “It usually stops in the second trimester.”

Never mind that I had already been through this once, and it hadn’t.

After I threw up enough though, they relented and once again prescribed Zofran and Zantac.

Again, it helped with the nausea but I kept throwing up, violently. My toddler saw me throw up so often that he started to mime vomiting in his play. Despite this, when I went for prenatal care, the nurses checking me in would chastise me for not exercising.

My husband traveled for work often during that time. I became so concerned about my health that I would ask my sister to make sure she heard from me at least once a day and if not, to come to the house to check on me. I didn’t want to asphyxiate from vomiting and have no one there to take care of my child. The dehydration got so bad from all the throwing up that I had to go to the hospital twice, where I needed two bags of fluid each time.

“It’s not easy having babies,” the doctors and nurses told me.

Luckily, my second child was also born

healthy. The labor wasn’t as long, and I was thrilled that the nausea was gone. Once again, I had gained 20 pounds but lost 25 right after.

This meant that I was now 10 pounds lighter than before my first pregnancy.

“You’re so lucky you didn’t gain weight,” numerous people—including nurses—told me.

I wanted to scream. I felt lucky to have two healthy kids; I did not feel lucky that my ribs were showing or that my weight was a result of constant vomiting.

I also felt as though my concerns were dismissed throughout my two pregnancies, written off as just an overly anxious new mom-to-be. For example, nobody followed up with me about the effects of 18 cumulative months of throwing up violently.

But my body bore witness to the trauma. When I went to a new dentist, she mentioned the damage to my teeth and asked if I had ever suffered from bulimia. (I hadn’t.) I also started waking up with terrible hip and back pain. On walks, those pains would flare up, no matter how much stretching I did. When I leaned against the counter in the kitchen, my stomach ached.

Searching for ways to heal on my own, I found a trainer who ran Mommy and Me workout groups. As she did for all new moms, she evaluated me and discovered that I had diastasis recti—the separation of the abdominal wall that can be caused by pregnancy and rapid weight loss. She also felt a knot in that area and said before I did any exercise with her, she

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wanted me to be cleared by a doctor, given that frequent vomiting and dehydration can cause lasting issues.

When my PCP felt the knot, she referred me to a hernia doctor. After a five-minute, $625 consultation, the Mass General hernia doctor said I didn’t have a hernia. When I pushed back and asked what I could do, given that I was experiencing pain, he shrugged his shoulders.“Tell your kids you used to be thin.”

I burst into tears. After years of feeling like I was screaming into a void about my health issues, this was the last straw. I felt humiliated.

W i t h that one sentence, he made me feel like my health and well-being were irrelevant and that the only thing that mattered was some idea of how I should look.

Maybe my reaction made him feel uncomfortable, or maybe he realized what he said was inappropriate. Whatever the case, he tried again. “Listen, we just don’t have the research or knowledge about most postpartum issues.”

That assessment certainly seemed to fit with my experiences pre- and post-partum, and

honestly, with being female in general in the medical world.

Because I was having no luck with doctors, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I went back to the Mommy and Me trainer, who worked with me to strengthen my core. Since then, I’ve met with other personal trainers who specialize in women who have been pregnant, recognizing that our bodies have different needs. Over time, I’ve gotten stronger, and the pain has gotten better, allowing me to once again carry out the activities I love doing.

But I’m not back to where I was. Just a few months ago, more than eight years after my second child was born, I was diagnosed with Barrett’s esophagus, which means I have tissue scarring around my esophagus. I am now at a higher risk for esophageal cancer and so will need to be screened every three years.

There is no way to know for sure the cause, but repeated vomiting is listed as a likely one.

Today, when I reflect on my experiences, it takes me right back to how powerless and dismissed I felt. I thought writing it all down might feel cathartic, but instead it just makes me

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feel sad. I don’t blame the individual doctors or nurses. With the exception of the hernia doctor, everyone I met was wonderful and caring. When they asked how I was doing, I believe they were asking sincerely.

But our medical system is broken. The way insurance works means doctors don’t have the time to ask follow-up questions. As long as I wasn’t suicidal or suffering from a life-threatening situation, they had to keep the appointment moving. I understand why they didn’t follow up. Collectively, our society hasn’t put sufficient time or resources into women’s health care. There is a reason that pregnancy and childbirth are some of the highest rates of

death for women, and yet there doesn’t seem to be an urgency in making sure that we as a society are taking care of women.

I was very lucky. Despite how sick I felt, neither I nor my babies were ever in any acute, life-threatening situations. That is not the case for everyone, and I do know that the providers would have jumped in to save me and my baby. I appreciate the care they gave to me, and I honestly don’t know if there is anything that could have been done to avoid the lasting damage. I just wish the medical system allowed them the time and resources to help with all of the complexities of perinatal experiences.

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A Guide to Fall Back in Love with Your Body

By Asha Rao, OTD, OTR/L

O

ften our bodies are the resilience and the hardships it maps to the stories we has seen. While I still experience don’t want to share. I body dysmorphia, moments of disordered eating, know mine is. My and flashbacks to body is the book traumas I have no that holds the worst words for, I am times in my life thankful for the and reminders of engine my body chapters I don’t want has become. It is the to relive. My body’s drive that has helped me marks and scars are the reach my clinical career. roadmap for how I escape one My body is evidence of bad situation after another. The curves are reminders of the ups my character and the strength I can offer friends, family, and and downs I’ve faced in life.

It has taken me years to community. It houses the love fall in love with my body again that I have to offer my village and be able to acknowledge its whenever they need me.

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If you’re someone who is unable to look at thei r body in the mirror at times or cann ot fathom how your bod y is one you can accept, I challenge y ou: 1. I challenge you to loo k at your body with com passion and grace.

2. I encourage you to ack nowledge how your body has shown up for you.

3. I ask that you forgiv e your body for the mom ents that it has seen and than k it for getting you this far.

4. I ask that you let go of the moments you are embarrassed of and that bring you to tears when you remember what you’ve s ubjected your body to.

A woman’s body is a constant reminder of all we have lived through. I often admire the bodies of my close friends as the vessels that have helped them become who they are today. While I don’t always offer my body the same kindness, I am doing my best to acknowledge that. Although I live with chronic conditions and frequent reminders of what my body has seen, I thank my body for what it allows me to do every day: show up for my village, help the families I work with, and continue to be the person I am that makes a positive impact on communities every day. That is how I am falling in love with my body again.

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Media Case Study: The Artful Dodger

By Sahana Narayan

Like me, you probably have not thought about Oliver Twist or the universe that Dickens’ created for many many years – the streets of London, where we witness the real aftermath of the industrial revolution and the grim realities of orphans turned pickpockets.

For me, it was probably first and last read in middle school, during a time where I would’ve much rather read fantasy than the classics. So, I was surprised to re-enter that world this year through Hulu’s limited series, The Artful Dodger, where we see Jack Dawkins, a former child pickpocket, now a semireformed Naval officer and surgeon, return to a life of somewhat comical and dubious crime. Drawn in by the sheer aesthetics of the show, and a promise of hijinks, I was actually most surprised by the medical nature of the show. Surgery, in its primitive sense, is truly the star here.

From amphitheater operating rooms to surgery without anesthesia, there’s a brute version of medicine at play here. In the 19th century, the meticulous ways in which we prevent infection today and manage hygiene was unheard of. Surgery was about pride, guts, and glory. Bloodstained gowns meant you were a formidable surgeon, a beast among mortals; it did not signify anything in regards to the lives you did or didn’t save. It is within this particular backdrop that we meet Jack Dawkins, a surgeon putting his sticky fingers to good use, tying sutures and ligating arteries instead of pickpocketing the ton of London.

As someone who aspires for a career in surgery then, it perhaps is no surprise to me (or you) that I found this absolutely fascinating. While I’ve studied the history of medicine, as it pertains to complicated and unethical experimentation, I have never quite questioned or considered the history of surgery.

Thus, the world of the dodger, and the viewers who

witness it, are desperately in need for a revolution, for Victorian medicine to be rediscovered. Enter Belle.

Now Belle, for all intents and purposes, represents the absolute elite. She’s the governor’s daughter, and in this penal colony so far away from the grandeur of London, is equivalent to royalty.

Though she is not at all swayed by the privileges she has to marry wealthy and run a household, it is not extravagance that entices her, but medicine. Having dedicated much of her life to learning everything that has to do with the human body, she has no choice but to leverage Dr. Jack Dawkins’ own actions against him – he is to make her the first female surgeon. Her knowledge, bolstered by the reading of the latest medical journals, mean she too wishes to change Victorian medicine, test out ether as anesthetic, use carbolic acid to treat infection, change the hygiene practices of the hospital, where the sick are amongst dirt and grime.

Though the medicine we see in The Artful Dodger is nothing like I am (or any of us are) used to, there is still a reverence with which Dawkins considers human life. Nobody is too small, nobody is too unimportant. He even scolds Belle for a mistake that even modern medicine is guilty of – “I would give anything to trial that surgery. Surgery without pain would revolutionize medicine. But I’m not going to. Because the biggest risk to any surgeon is the addiction to feeling like God.” But as the show goes on, as Belle slowly and fruitfully convinces Dawkins to consider changes to medicine, improvements to their outcomes, it all comes to naught. (I’m warning you all now, this is a spoiler, read at your own risk!) Belle’s life is threatened by an aortic aneurysm, one that has no cure, no surgery, and it is with sheer love, respect, and devastation that she begs Dawkins to try and save her.

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Through the season, Belle is shown to be highly educated, intelligent, really, a sheer natural at medicine and surgery for someone who has only ever seen it on paper. But it is this knowledge that allows her to advocate for herself, diagnose herself, despite other physicians suggesting otherwise, fighting her own family to prove that she is genuinely at risk of death.

This show, in many ways, questions authority in medicine – who deserves it? Is it Dawkins with his uncouth upbringing and lack of pedigree? Is it Dr. Sneed, a rich, privileged boy turned surgeon, a man who basks in his authority? Is it the Professor, a renowned surgeon turned drunkard who performs surgery with nothing but hubris and alcohol feuling him? Does Belle? Who has studied medicine, past and present and future, to a much higher degree than these men have? Does she have a right to make sure someone listens to her?

Well, Dawkins does. Without fail, he takes her diagnosis, confirms it without question, and attempts to create a surgical procedure that will save her life.

One that has only ever been tried once before – one that has only ever resulted in death. He tries, yes, he tries, even though he begs her not to ask this of him.

But when Belle tearfully asks, “So what, you’ll just

hold my hand and see me into my next life,” he tries for her. At her behest. Because she has so painstakingly asked for it, even when Dr. Sneed and the Professor determine her diagnosis to be incorrect.

Medicine today is not what medicine was back then. Victorian medicine in fact barely echoes what we see today.

Yet, the notion that you are not listened to, the notion that a woman could not possibly belong in these medical spaces, that she could not possibly know what is going on with her own body, is all too familiar. After all, it’s why we are all here, right.

If 11 Seconds today can represent what Belle goes through then, how do we change it? How do we ensure that women are no longer dismissed or delayed treatment?

Surely, we will all not be so lucky to fall in love with a man who loves us to the point of invention, to fall in love with a surgeon who is willing to try.

The body – perhaps it is a machine, perhaps it is a business, but it is above all, a rather fickle thing.

We cannot simply ignore what comes to pass. We cannot sit in silence and let pain rage on. We surely cannot just hold one’s hand and see them into the next life. Listening is not the perfect solution, it does not account for advancements that haven’t been made yet, changes to a system so overwrought with burden and burnout, but it is a start. The very same start for Belle may be ours, too.

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Looking to the Future Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who’s the _______ of them all?

I’m sure we all have something we’d like to fill in there. It could be physical; it could be an attribute; it could quite literally be anything under the sun, anything that makes us want to be better, be different.

It’s easy to forget that our bodies, though they may be vessels and machines, are also a physical manifestation of who we are. Canvases with stories that are constantly being written and rewritten for the sake of the impossible ideal — perfection. But what really is beauty? What do our bodies really mean?

I…wish I had the right answer for you. The perfect answer for you. One that takes into account your years of struggle and acceptance and love and reverence and advocacy, one that doesn’t feel like a cop out answer, or someone pandering to the often idealized “self-love” movement.

Beauty is nuanced, it’s natural, it’s varied, it is never the same. Much like this, our bodies, the bodies that we exist in, that we experience life in, and create a world in, are more than just something to be changed, altered, improved. They are intricate landscapes of resilience and potential, that continue to stand against a test of time that is hellbent on making us fit in a way that can be inauthentic to ourselves.

It’s very clear to me where medicine fits in all of this. It’s easy to masquerade flaws and fixes behind medical reasons, and I agree with you, medicine is oftentimes a field of fixing. My interest in medicine started early, from an early fascination with my mom’s pregnancy, how a body could grow another body, and my brother’s infancy, to my curiosity with how doctors help and evaluate these bodies. How a career could be so pointedly focused on such problem solving coupled with a curiosity over the human body itself, as a machine with many working parts, as the vessel to our personality and our thoughts and dreams, makes me want to investigate more about how health manifests in the body.

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I don’t think there’s an easy way to define it though. I’ve been searching for the answer for the better part of five years, hoping that maybe prevention is key, or maybe it’s self-love and acceptance, or maybe it’s being so self-aware of the very thing that makes you human – mortality, vulnerability, and all other such woes.

Your body will break. It will heal. It will break again.

It is meant to carry us, carry our stories, and carry our uncertainty.

If there is one takeaway to be had here, dear reader, it is that there is no perfect answer. I asked us earlier how do we define an industry that is so focused on defining us?

The choice here is perhaps we don’t. We don’t let it. The beauty industry will continue on, reaching unprecedented annual growth, continuing to be the flame that we moths flock to. So the answer isn’t there. Not really. But if you remember, I also asked you this: if the body is our medium for having a world, then surely how we define it is really, truly, up to ourselves?

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Images by Alex Ephstein, Liz Zonarich, and Vecteezy.com