Self Love?

One of the greatest ailments of millennials and Gen-Z’ers today is image: body image, perceptions of our intelligence, and overall social reputation. An extremely self-conscious generation of tenacious dreamers, we often question ourselves during even our smallest movements of the day. For example, I utilize the window reflections on streets to check my appearance. 

I walk out of my house, dorm, or workspace and I ask myself if I’m okay. I don’t ask myself if I’m feeling okay mentally or emotionally, but rather if I’m acceptable. Am I okay to be seen in the presence of others? How am I perceived by the people around me? Do I fit these standards or am I an anomaly? 

It seems like today’s society is progressing towards a culture that embraces self love and a wide variety of shapes and sizes—so why is it that I focus so much energy on fitting a set of model-like aesthetics that are only going to go out of style anyway? The answer is simple: I have not learned to accept myself on my own terms. There’s a lot of pressure in naming myself the sole proprietor of my happiness, and these days, ever-changing standards of societal validation are not helping.

It seems obvious, but self love has to come from yourself.

Sure, it is extremely empowering to see such a revolutionary movement of acceptance sweeping the nation. Companies like Aerie, with their new lingerie line Aerie Real and even Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty, with its Beauty For All makeup campaign—remind me of the progress that society is making in expanding beauty standards and teaching young women to embrace themselves the way they naturally are. However, I can’t shake the feeling that I am still relying on celebrities, models, and social media influencers to teach me how to accept myself. Societal norms are starting to reform but, reformed or not, why are we still basing our self worth on fulfilling norms?  That’s hardly self love, is it?

I’m beginning to learn that I am my only reliable source of self validation and acceptance. So while it absolutely is a positive thing to rejoice in the body positivity movement and applaud companies like Aerie and Fenty Beauty for taking those essential steps forward, we also have to find the things about ourselves that we can appreciate without relying solely on that outside influence. For example, when was the last time that I listened to my Spotify playlist and complimented myself for having awesome music taste? Or the last time I ate an amazing meal and thanked myself for fueling my body plentifully? Positive self talk is key in determining how we feel about ourselves.

I have realized that current body image reform has also had other effects on my self esteem. While different body shapes are being celebrated, society is still setting limits and conditions on what’s a “normal” or “womanly” body type. Now, instead of frail wrists and toned legs defining womanhood, it is accepted and encouraged to embrace curves. Rather than being another option for how a woman’s body can appear, however, “curves” are just an addition to an already complicated body equation. Keep the slim waist, add a thicker ass, subtract the stomach rolls… what’s left is the continuation of an already exclusionary body culture.

This culture quickly becomes dangerous when eating disorders will affect 10% of college-aged women and 10-15% of all Americans. They manifest when there is a constant need to assert control over one’s self and find things that need to be “fixed” or “perfected.” I have personally struggled with this vicious cycle. Within an eating disorder lies the cruel reality that there will never be a finish line or point of satisfaction. I would look for validation where it wasn’t applicable—such as in Instagram models who serve as physical representations of the current unachievable body ideals—and then would further strive for numerical goals that would reset themselves whenever I “reached” them. Like today’s ever-shifting expectations, I was constantly finding new standards for what my ideal body should look like. It was a never-ending acceleration that did not slow down until I learned to rely not on what my body type or weight should be, but on loving myself based on the body I have. I had to find ways to be happy that were not dependent on what jeans size I wore.

The smiling faces behind the iPhone screens also have a story. Contrary to popular belief, celebrity body icons and other public messiahs have real lives, real emotions, and living, breathing bodies different from ours. People are people, not just images on a screen, and when we buy into socially endorsed ideals for inspiration and validation, we strive towards physical goals that have nothing to do with us as individuals. We lose the human aspect of it all.

An example of this screen-to-reality dissonance comes with Alexis Ren, a 20-year-old model and social figure who has amassed a significant social media presence. With 11.7 million Instagram followers, Alexis’s public platform is a hub for “fitspiration” and public admiration. Because of the reputation of her platform, it came as a shock to many of her followers—me included—when, in an interview with Cosmopolitan in May of 2017, Alexis revealed that she had actually been struggling with a severe eating disorder for years. The smiling L.A. model girl who effortlessly posed on beaches and showed off her washboard abs while eating pancakes was not, in fact, happy with her “perfect” body.

Similarly, the relationship with her model boyfriend portrayed on both of their Instagrams was a mask for her personal struggles. In the Cosmopolitan interview, Alexis noted her influence in the media and how “… I felt like my body was the only reason why people liked me.” The model found herself in an endless cycle of under-eating, eating a little bit, and then feeling guilty and over-exercising to compensate. It was astounding to me that someone so beautiful and “perfect” could be feeling the same way I did. For me, Alexis was physical proof that the motivations for eating disorders and other dysmorphic insecurities were cripplingly irrational, and therefore could not be lived with.

When I scroll through my Instagram feed and longingly examine these celebrities’ lives and bodies, it is easy to turn around and compare their supposed happiness to my own. What I miss is what’s going on behind the scenes. I misinterpret the lives I look up to. No matter how far I go to perfect myself, it will never be enough because I’m not loving myself on my own terms. Self love cannot realistically be on terms with societal ideals or my eating disorder.

At the end of the day, seeing other people love themselves—or present an image of happiness—will not help you love yourself. Happiness and self love require positive self talk, appreciation, and acceptance. The world is a hard enough place externally without internal criticisms. I have realized that I am virtually in charge of how I feel about myself. If I can take mere seconds out of my day to thank my body and realize what an incredible feat it is to make it through the day and thrive in this modern chaos, there is no reason why self love shouldn’t be achievable.