Why You Won’t Hear Me Complaining About My Appearance

When I was younger, I was obsessed with my appearance. I know what you’re thinking – ALL teenage girls are obsessed with appearance. But this went beyond the normal teenage preoccupation with looks. I spent almost every waking moment thinking of ways to better myself physically. I struggled to enjoy time spent with friends, as I would constantly compare myself to them, find myself wanting, and thus spend the rest of the day feeling ugly and worthless. Many times I would opt to stay at home, reading trashy magazines and brainstorming ways to become more beautiful, rather than spending time socialising. I grew up in a seaside town, but can only recall two occasions where I actually went to the beach and wore swimwear along with my friends (I felt self-conscious the entire time). I wrote out multiple diet plans every day, was constantly wanting reassurance from everyone that I wasn’t disgusting, and spoke about my body as though it were my worst enemy. I was also sick a lot as a teenager, and am convinced that this was at least partly due to the resentment I held towards my body.

To pull off the “Mali Pose”, cover as much of the face as possible, whilst maintaining eye-contact. (c. 2007)

I look back and cringe at some of the words I used to describe myself and this amazing body that God created. How awful, to declare that I hate my legs, when there are people who would give anything for a pair of healthy, functioning legs. How sad, to say that I hate my nose, when it enables me to breathe and smell the ocean and the flowers in my garden. What a shame, to complain about a little bit of fat on my stomach, which is there to protect the baby I will one day carry. How ridiculous, to dislike my eyes, when some people aren’t even able to see God’s beautiful creation around them. How ungrateful, to hate my mouth, when it allows me to do the very thing that brings me so much joy (singing). And what an absolute waste of life, to spend so much time thinking about something so completely temporal. This body of mine will (God-willing) get old, and will eventually die. But some things are eternal. Some things will not decay. This body is simply a tool – it should be looked after, nourished and nurtured, but it should not be an idol.

To the people who want to know if I’ve “let myself go”, I say yes and no. I’ve not stopped caring for my body – I try and stay as fit and healthy as possible, I eat well, I limit my exposure to toxic self-care products, I have good personal hygiene, etc. But in a sense I have let myself go, in that I’ve let myself go from the constant fear and anxiety that comes with being preoccupied with my appearance. Instead of spending my days obsessing about the way I look, I want to spend my days walking with Jesus and storing up treasures in heaven, because those are the things that will matter when my body is in the ground.

To pull off the “Mali Pose 2.0”, relax, smile and enjoy life in the body you’ve been given. (c. 2013)

I’m not claiming to have it all together, but God has brought me a long way. I might not be overjoyed by my cellulite, but I sure do appreciate the body I’ve been given, for it is fearfully and wonderfully made, and it enables me to do all sorts of things that I never want to take for granted.

To those of you who are still struggling with this issue, I pray that you’ll find freedom. I understand the pain that comes with self-hatred, but I know that there is healing to be found in Jesus, whose physical body was marred beyond recognition on the cross. His love is not dependent on how pretty we are. His love is perfect. It is complete.

P.S. The declaration made in the title of this post is more of a goal than a promise. Please feel free to call me on it if you ever catch me going back on my word!