Don't Tell Me I'm Beautiful

People may have the best intentions to compliment me with a comment about my appearance. Words like "beautiful", "gorgeous", and "pretty" were things that I had gotten from all of my previous romantic partners. I got it from friends, family, and even strangers too. People seem to think that it is acceptable to comment on my weight whether I am losing it or gaining it. Even medical office admins used to gush over how "beautifully" thin I was, ironically, while I was 1 more lost kg away from a diagnosable eating disorder. People comment on whether I looked tired or not any given day, my waist to hip ratio, the length/colour of my hair...etc, etc.

And I thought I was supposed to like it. I thought that being told I was beautiful was what I was supposed to want to hear from others, especially my partners. I thought these attentions were supposed to make me feel cared for. But these comments never elicited a good feeling in me. Instead, they evoked feelings of social inferiority, guilt, and reservedness. When people tell you that you're a "pretty girl", it's associated with being a mild-mannered, polite, and quiet girl. "Elegant." "Graceful." How about "give me a break!"

Tell me I'm funny if I make you laugh. Tell me I'm a good problem solver if I get the job done. Take me seriously when I'm bringing up a legitimate issues instead of writing my feelings off as female emotionality.

Treat me like a person of actual worth regardless of my appearance.

I have spent all of my past relationships worrying about how I looked. I constantly wondered whether my partner thought I was pretty. I worried about what I wore, how my hair looked, and how much I weighed every moment of every day, especially leading up to a meeting with my partner. I closed myself off with my body language because I didn't want people to look at my "flaws". I starved myself and ran myself sick.

A comment on my body meant a sick feeling in my stomach whether the comment was positive or not. If somebody commented on my weight (lost or gained), I ate even less that day. My hair started falling out, my iron levels became dangerously low, I stopped menstruating, and climbing stairs without passing out became something achieved only out of stubborn determination. I was unhappy and angry and channeled these feelings into punishing my own body. It became a vicious cycle. The worse I felt, the more I took it out on myself because it became the only coping method I had. I hated the way I looked in everything. I wouldn't even breathe deeply because I thought it made me look fat. People told me I was "wasting away" while others were asking me what my secret to a flat stomach was.

And all of this just told me that my self worth was determined by my level of physical attractiveness. So, hearing from my boyfriends that I was "gorgeous" and "beautiful" and "stunning" didn't help at all. It made things worse. Every time I considered having a future with any one of them, I fretted over how much they would love me when I was old and no longer had my "youthful beauty". I couldn't be sure that there was anything beyond my face that was worth loving... and that didn't seem like a very stable foundation for a relationship to me. I felt like a trophy. I felt sexually objectified and worthless because I didn't even feel beautiful. I was a fraud, manipulating people into thinking I was worth something by harmfully controlling my appearance.

It took a long time to stop caring about my appearance. It took spending time with people who didn't care what I looked like and who were comfortable being bare-faced around me too. It took looking at others and realizing that what I thought was truly "beautiful" about people was their stories. I had to realize that what I wanted was also a beautiful story and I wasn't getting it by hating everything about myself and projecting that negative energy out to others. It took tears. It took tantrums about the weight I was gaining back. And it took the occasional angry punch to my reflection in the mirror. However, I can say now that my self worth is no longer based on my appearance.

I'm happy that I have the energy to dance. I'm grateful that I can study without falling asleep because I have no glucose available to my brain. I'm excited that my body feels strong again even if I can't fit into the size 0 clothes I wore a few years ago. Most of all, I'm empowered by the fact that society no longer controls me through my physical appearance. Fuck your make-up. Fuck your tight women's clothing that doesn't allow for pockets. Fuck the expectation that it's better to have bleeding shaved legs than to have undamaged hairy ones. Fuck your uncomfortable underwire bras, fuck your high heels, and fuck your flat ab exercises. Somehow I've still managed to be a functioning member of society with genuine social connections without these things.

Don't praise me for making myself physically weak to be physically "beautiful". Channel that praise into making someone strong in worthwhile ways and then you'll see true beauty.