NEUTRALITY

A pair of eyes stare straight back waiting for an answer, as I sit and try to understand what that could even mean. My brain strains itself to do whatever it takes to translate that question into one within my realm of existence. I frantically look around the room, desperately seeking to find the answer in the dying plant near my window, in the intricate floral pattern of my table cloth, or my last resort, in the solemn-faced painted woman on the wall. I usually look to her for answers but, alas, there is no reply this time around.

“Well, why does it matter?” I hear the words echo again from the computer screen.

The thoughts start to formulate and take shape in my head. How dare she ask me a question like that? What possible answer does she think I could give her? She’s my therapist, she should know about all my relationships and that the one with my body is the most sacred, yet combative and tumultuous. A toxic partner forever in my life, who is so bad for me but I am stuck with forever.

Over a year later, that question still haunts me. Through all phases of my life, good and bad, I have always wondered if I look fat at any moment. During an exam, being out on the playground, walking through the park, shopping at the grocery store to pick out dessert for the night, and even while lying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires connected to all parts of my body.

While tackling the above question will require the writing of an entire book of its own, I know that the journey towards of feeling love, peace, and appreciation for my body is one that is worth it, even if I never reach the ideal and final destination unwavering peace.

I have learned very recently that in moments when I find it hard to appreciate my physical appearance and my body, I work to pour my outstanding love and appreciation towards another crevice in my mind and self that seems more willing to receive it. At times, it feels too exhausting to break down the walls that are preventing me from tackling my physical self- be dipped into.

As I truly transition out of girlhood and dive head-first into womanhood, I have found gratitude in newly discovered or fully realized qualities within myself. While recently partaking in my unofficial yearly self-reflection, I looked back at the triumphs and tribulations of my life thus far. I realized that my younger self would be amazed to see how I have handled myself in a variety of very “adult” situations I had observed as a young child, but never thought I could take on with strength and stride.

There is love deserved and to be given for these life moments. Why be confined to using my perception of my physical appearance as a measuring tool for the amount of love I can prescribe myself? Which begs the even broader question, why should my love even be limited?

Knowing that my relationship with my body extends beyond my physical appearance is daunting upon first thought, but provides a surprising sense of relief as then my entire selfimage is not just dependent on how I look. Rather it is contin gent on how I think, as it is my life experiences and influences that have defined the perspective I have on my physical appearance.

There is something to be said about prioritizing self love in the form of positive time with yourself. I feel grounded when I move my body in a way that brings me joy, through dancing, walking on a pretty day, swimming, stretching, and so much more. It’s an investment in myself, to grow the multiple facets that make up my being. Which deep down I know is much more fulfilling than the continuous obsession surrounding my physical image. more fulfilling than the continuous obsession surrounding my physical image.

When I try to think back to where this all stems from, it’s hard to pinpoint a direct rhyme or reason. It seems like a conglomeration of many small push pins that have been collectively pinned over the years to fill up the map of my mind. But, a universal truth is that there is an undeniable importance that our society places on physical appearance through subtle (and less subtle) media portrayals of women. Someone’s looks become the immediate way to categorize them, and the pressure can feel insurmountable. Yet, this is another battle I deserve to win.

The seemingly endless journey to self-acceptance can be exhausting and trailed with self doubt. It feels funny to have to make the conscious effort to change your own mindset, to be at peace with an ideal balance within. But, we are our own best supporter, Number 1 Fan, shoulder to lean on, and the only person who will forever be there no matter what. For my final thoughts, I will leave you with this haiku, to encapsulate my journey and to use as a mental sticky note, if you’d like.