Some things I’ve learnt about body neutrality

I was covering a class the other day in a space with a mirror on the wall.

I caught a glimpse of my side profile and thought

“god my arm is fat.” 

This thought caught me a little by surprise.

It felt intrusive and out of place and I quickly moved on. 

On reflection, what surprised me more than the thought itself, was my experience of it being jarring and unusual. 

There was a time in my life where these kinds of thoughts would have been common and normal. There was a time in my life when catching myself in a mirror like that would have led to a much longer rumination process.

The truth is my arms are fucking strong. And even if they weren’t, I would still find them beautiful. 

I’ve spent a lot of time building a loving relationship with my body.

It is an imperfect one. I still catch myself being critical. I still catch myself pinching my back rolls and trying to judge if they have gotten smaller. I still notice myself worrying about how big my traps are getting and wondering if I should reduce the amount I am deadlifting. I still find myself struggling to like a photo where I have a visible double chin, even if I look really happy.

Body neutrality is a process of acknowledging and appreciating all the things our bodies can do.

These arms I am criticising for being “too big” are the same arms that reach out to hug loved ones. These same arms create beautiful shapes as I dance, help me to climb, swim in the ocean, hold me in a handstand, and are writing these words.

Body neutrality allows me to find joy in being physically active and value myself regardless of my appearance. It means doing my best to look after my body (mind and soul), and trying to let go of what it looks like.

And it makes sense that this critical voice is here. We live in a society where we are constantly being sold stories of our inadequacies. I’m sharing some of what I have noticed regarding my own internal stories. You might relate to some that I have shared here, or your stories might be completely different.

Body neutrality feels like an easier place for me to land than body love.

I am not sure I do love my cellulite, but I can accept that it is here and that it doesn’t diminish my worth as a human being. I can accept my new wrinkles as a sign I am getting older and celebrate that I am still here.  

Also, I think it is important to acknowledge my body privilege as part of this process (ways I am not marginalised as other people might be). I am physically able. I am white. In an average store I can find clothes that fit me. And I’m not of a size where the first thing doctors comment on is my weight.

It’s been a long journey of liberation, and is not one I plan on stopping.

Life has become far more interesting, colourful and fun the less time I spend concerned about my size.