Square Peg, Round Hole

I never thought that I had issues with my physical appearance until my sophomore year of high school. Sure, I had the occasional feeling of “I’m not beautiful enough” or “my hair isn’t long enough,” but I never truly had that gut wrenching, depressing notion that my body was imperfect. There was absolutely no reason to; I was often told I was beautiful, my dad called me his “jewel” and I had a boyfriend who made me happy. I had absolutely no care in the world-that is, until my self-image took a dip and I spiraled into the dark world of negativity and self hate.

In retrospect, it all started the summer before my second year. I had visited family in the United States, spending half of my time in sunny Southern California where I become enamored by the female bodies that pranced about in tiny bikinis which showing off long, hairless legs, tiny waists, slender arms and to my chagrin washboard stomachs. I was agitated by this, and sadly it is this irritation that led me to compare myself to the girls I saw around me. Every time I looked in the mirror, I was greeted with an inadequate sight of myself: a slightly protruding tummy, wide waist, slender hips and bigger than average arms. I was grossly imperfect, and determined to fix it! Armed with copies of different magazines, I returned home to announce to my family that I would no longer be drinking soda, (a decision I have stuck to for almost three years now). I began going to the gym at least three times a week, and I joined the athletes during their early morning runs, all in a bid to live up to “Jessica Biel,” the moniker I had created for myself.

Unfortunately, my hard work did not produce the banging body I desperately desired. My lower abs were more defined than before, but the top part of my stomach was a constant food belly. My arms won the prize for “biggest flaw;” they had gotten bigger than ever, probably as a result of listening to my male friends’ advice to lift tremendous amounts of weights. The unhappiest part of my experience however was seeing my hips and legs transform into a mediocre version of what they used to be. The extreme weight loss had left me extremely top heavy. I was grossly unhappy.

I was increasingly uncomfortable in my new body. Clothes didn’t fit the way they used to, so I resorted to wearing oversize clothing to make up for the lack of a bigger lower body. The social scene at school was utterly overwhelming because I was constantly comparing myself to the beautiful girls with perfect body proportions. It was upsetting to listen to my mother urging me to count my blessings, when all I could think of was how much I wanted to lose an inch off the width of my arms.

By the time senior year rolled in, I had lived in my new body for about two years and was finally beginning to accept that my body was different. My friends and family kept supporting me by reminding me that all individuals have different body shapes and that our body type dictates where and how we lose weight.

Now, I have acknowledged that I was born top heavy. There are things that I can do to prevent the top part of my body from getting bigger, but nothing much can stop my body from shedding weight from the waist down.  With encouragement from my best friend, I started going to the gym, focusing on cardio exercises that would burn excess calories and keep the weight off my arms. For my stomach, I mostly did a combination of sit -ups to strengthen my abdominal muscles and push- ups to fortify my core strength and help me get rid of armpit fat.  I ended my senior year of high school with a lot more confidence than I would have ever imagined: I knew my body was not perfect but I also knew that there were things that I could do to make my body the best version of itself.

To this day, I still have issues with my body. There are times when I return home from a trip to the mall extremely sad and frustrated because my clothes don’t always fit the way I would like them to. My biggest problem has been finding button down shirts that can accommodate my arms and still provide the sleek fit that I want.

It is difficult to accept that the clothes I won will not always flatter my body, however, talking to people who have similar problems with their body shape always centers me. It reminds me that the world is made up of many square pegs; each of us trying to succeed in this round hole we call conventional beauty.