It's just a body

TW: contains specific weight numbers and mentions of an ed

~Seems funny to me how something so purely physical can become such a mental struggle~

(the pictures used in this post illustrate how at different points of my life, even with different numbers on the scale, I still look the same. at least to the reader. just so you can see how subjective it is. how crazy body dysmorphia can be. please, don't compare yourself to me, if you have a tendency to do so, do yourself a favour and don't look at them.)

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I think I've always struggled with my body image and I don't necessarily know where it's coming from. This post should be about my body image postpartum, but it honestly goes way back. I do realise there have been many instances in my life where my body was commented upon and depicted, and just maybe, these little snarly comments made their way deep inside my mind and live there rent free. The comments weren't just negative, that's not what I'm saying, but making your figure a personality trait is toxic. We all have so much more to offer than just our bodies and even though I rationally know this, there are times when I don't believe this a single bit.

I don't know when I started viewing my body differently. Maybe it had something to do with being a competing gymnast and dancer for a long time. You needed to look a certain way. I remember there was this girl on my team who was bashed for the way she looked all the time. Even though this was not me, I still compared myself to a lot of girls. At the end of 7th grade - I was 12 at the time - I went to England for a month and gained a lot of weight there. Not in a bad way, I certainly didn't come back fat, just, lets say, more womanly. I left Slovakia with about 46kg and came back weighing 53. I know I shouldn't talk numbers but I always think them anyway and in a way it's illustrating how anyone could feel bad about their body. It is so individual. I came from the trip and still haven't really noticed anything. I still danced, which meant working out around 4 days a week. The first difference that i remember was my dad commenting on how fat my legs looked in shorts. Then I started comparing myself to my best friend at the time. I still have the diary where I wrote: she just bought a new bra today, I wish I could buy bras like this and be able to fill them in. 12 years old...

And then the biggest change occurred. Boys started to like me. I believe I was pretty and also brave, a little shameless and now I had this new maturing body. This one boy, who I liked for some time, finally noticed me. I don't know what it was that changed, but something did and it felt really good to get noticed. That's when my body was objectified the most. He liked me because of my body and I don't blame him. It just created a lot of chaos in such a young mind. I felt like I had to show my body off to be liked. Nothing really ever happened with this boy, only few years of fixation and sending nudes, but I was lucky enough to have chosen a guy who at least never leaked them. Although there were some foul rumours going around about me. Not important here.

As I said, I don't know how or when it happened, I just became ultra focused on my body. The good and the bad. I could tell you million things about me that I would love to change. I like to think it used to be more intense than it is now, but maybe I'm wrong. I would say that I developed somewhat of an eating disorder the summer after my second grade of high-school. Obviously I don't take this lightly and if you feel like you have an ED you should probably seek help. I think I should have. I really didn't like the way I looked. I felt huge. By that time I was 57kg which is a great weight for a woman built like me. I started eating less. First skipping breakfast, then dinner and eventually making the lunch quite small. I don't remember how long this lasted, but I do know it is never healthy. After that summer I left for England again, now for a year abroad. I worked out every day in my dorm, used to go to the gym where I would weigh myself on this fancy scale which counted your body fat and a lot more. For the first time since I was 12 the number on my scale went down to a groundbreaking 52 and for a brief moment it became 50. And you know what? Even at that point, where it was at the ultimate low, on the very edge of a healthy lifestyle, I still felt fat. It still wasn't enough. The worst part is, even if I felt thin for a brief moment - I know it's a shallow goal - there would be something else I didn't like. Whether it was my skin, my hair, my face, I always managed - and to this day I still do - to find something that was not good enough.

I had a boyfriend at the time, he - spoiler alert - is my baby daddy now, who supported me all the way through and even though it was hard on him too he stood by me and I'm beyond grateful for that. My weight loss journey stopped there but there are still moments I look at every detail on myself. I wonder if it ever goes away. I need to remind myself of the beauty and the incredible strength our bodies hold.

This feels like a good ending and I haven't even started talking about my postpartum body. But honestly it's the same struggle. It was hard for me to see that number on my scale rise when I was pregnant. For reference I started at 57 and by the time I reached 4th month I was 52 I believe. All the throwing up made me as light as I was at 16 and not pregnant. I did look good, but at what cost? It was very hard and obviously not good for me nor the baby and yet I often felt relieved that the number wasn't rising. The stress I was under when it started rising was bad. I knew I was gaining the appropriate amount and really I had a perfect chart weight gain, but I just hoped not to be heavier than my boyfriend. Just to be able to loose it all after birth. To bounce back. Don't even get me started on this sick culture. I was back at 57kg only about a week after my birth, but my body doesn't look the same, and again I don't like it. But it's not supposed to look the same. My organs moved, my joints changed and even my bones expanded, so why is it still socially acceptable to expect women to bounce back? why am I expecting it from myself? It's about reminding myself I just gave birth. I try to worry about being strong rather than being thin. It's such a cliche when they say that you start loving your body after you birth your child. I haven't. Not yet. Although I love everything about her. She is perfect to me and I know I have to change how I feel about myself mainly for her. I can't bare the thought of her hating her own body.

So for now I will try to fake it till I make it. I know, that with every ED and body dysmorphia there is a long path to walk before you get to your final destination but it's worth walking it. Imagining a life where I don't worry about the way I look is quite perfect. When I figure it out I'll let you know. I will try my hardest not to be hateful and mean towards me. After all I'm my own biggest critic, but at the same time it is only me who will forever live in this body. And since taking care of yourself and putting yourself first is hard at times I will do this for Noelka, so she can have a good example at home. I know my mum did that for me and I am thankful. Let's not make her home another body comparing influence.

As always, have a good one!

Kika x