a college body
how to not love your body in college
Over these past 3 months, I’ve learned more about myself than I could have anticipated. To some extent, I do feel intellectually enriched, but the study of myself has proved to be much more exciting. I haven’t found many answers—concrete solutions to my problems or secure ways to curb bad habits—-but I have been able to explore truths about myself, even if they are uncomfortable. One of the more uncomfortable truths has been the unhealthy nature of my relationship with my body.
My relationship with my body has never been perfect. Like everyone, I went through phases of admiration, indifference, and disgust. There were times in my life when I thought of my body only in terms of how it compared to that of others. Some times, I found comfort and pride not only in the way my body looked but in the mobility it afforded me. Other times, I paid little attention to it.
College, however, brought with it a transition to this relationship. I quickly learned that my body was no longer mine and mine alone. My body belongs to the lack of school dress codes and an excess amount of skin shown at all times. My body belongs to my friends, as we get ready together and swap clothes as I pray that I can fit into other girls’ clothes. My body belongs to parties every weekend, struggling to find clothes that make me feel my sexiest. My body belongs to dancing into the early hours of the morning. My body belongs to strange men, grabbing onto my waist, my belt loops, or anything else they can get their hands onto. My body belongs to late nights, tears, and eating anything I can while slaving over a paper I should’ve started a week ago. My body belongs to the gym, a few yards away from my dorm, tormenting me with no physical results despite my constant visits. My body belongs to the sleepless nights and destructive foods that it has been subjected to since the start of my college experience. Even over break, my body belonged to my extended family, continually commenting, “you’ve gained weight.”
Leading up to college, I had begun to ignore my body. College applications and jobs occupied my focus, leaving my body to shrink into the background. In college, my body broke through into the forefront. My habit of comparison returned: everyone, from friends to strangers on the bus, became an axis means of comparison. The size of my calfs, the curve of my stomach, and width of my thighs constantly were never too far from my mind. Despite the change of scenery and the added responsibilities, I couldn’t stop thinking about my body.