Fuck Society’s Standards
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“other women’s bodies
are not our battlegrounds”
― Rupi Kaur, Milk and Honey
Every single day, I look in the mirror and have a mental war with what I see.
Stemmed from years of never really having a clear understanding that I was meant to be different. I wasn’t born to look like all the other girls on the cover of magazines or in the movies. What made it worse was the constant bullying I endured my entire life. Back handed compliments and my peers just tearing down every inch of my body. The belief that they did these things because I was nothing, made me believe that I truly was nothing.
And here we are.
Now convinced that if I am not naked no one will notice me but if a day comes where I feel better about my body, than the last, I am just seeking attention. That it is a double edge sword and no matter which end I pick up I will slice my hand.
Convinced that skinny is good, but bad, but… good?
Told all my life that I was too skinny and must eat, but all I saw were models that were skinny. Constantly referred to as a “skinny bitch” but never allowed to call someone out for being bigger than me. Never really understanding why society is allowed to say, “Men like their women with meat on their bones.” but still deem it rude when they are told they prefer differently.
Convinced that I must tear other’s bodies down to lift mine up, because only one of us can be beautiful.
Why is this a discussion anyway?
[Tweet theme=”basic-white”]Why is a woman’s body up for discussion?[/Tweet]
Convinced that my opinion of my own body didn’t matter. That only the boys in my school could judge my worthiness. Taunted by boys with their dark humor, believing that my body was only good for making babies. That I was only meant to cook and fuck and nothing more.
Yet will be cheated on once my body has begun to change to carry life.
Because my body had become disgusting and I didn’t look like I did before.
Society’s endless war with women and shaving their legs.
That if I don’t shave no one will want to be with me. That hair wasn’t truly meant to stay on my body yet perfectly fine for a man. Yet the same people believe we evolved from monkeys but can’t understand why we as humans have hair growing all over their bodies.
And that my boobs naturally sag.
Picked on for not wanting to wear a bra because I felt they were uncomfortable. People not being taught that just because you can see my nipples through my shirt, you still shouldn’t stare. Instead they are taught to taunt and tease and stare until I become so uncomfortable I decide to cave. Only fully feeling free when you can go home and take it off.
And then shock everyone when they see their true form.
Disappointment when they realize that my boobs aren’t perky and are rather small. Convinced that the only way someone will find me attractive is if I push them together and only make love with the lights off so no one will know.
Convinced that my body is not mine.
That I need to consider what every one else will think when I look at it. Will they like my flat tummy? Are my hips too wide? Will they stare at my butt when I wear those jeans?
Who gets to do those things? Why?
Standing there staring at my body wondering when I will see the beautiful sculpture my now boyfriend says that it is. Wondering when I will be able to learn to accept my body and all of its changes. Wondering when society’s standards won’t impact me. Determined to continue with my day even when I look at it and truly wish to cry.
For I have no idea who I will be that day.
Will I be the confident queen deflecting the unwanted judgement from others? Or will I be the scared little princess waiting for a Prince Charming to come to my body’s rescue?
When will I be able to use the advice I give others for myself?
When will I love myself?
