In-Class Humor Work

You're dying.

Well, to be fair, we are all dying. It's just a matter of when any of us kicks the can. Could be tomorrow, could be in 50 years. 

So why does everyone care so much about what they look like?

We are on a floating rock in space. A speck in the universe. Our lifespans are but a blink in history. In three generations there is a good chance our names will be forgotten, even by our families. 

So why does everyone care so much about what they look like?

Body dysmorphia is a mental health condition where a person spends a lot of time worrying about flaws in their appearance, flaws that are often not noticed by other people. 

I can confidently say that I am guilty of this. 

The rational part of my brain knows that no one really cares what I look like, but the irrational part of my brain tells me that whenever I step into a room, all eyes are on me, judging me.

And not the, oh my goodness that's the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life, type of staring, but the wow she's way too skinny, does she ever eat? Does she have anorexia? 

The answer to that question is a solid no. 

In ninth grade, I did a project on eating disorders in my health class. As I was getting up to present, the kid next to me, the kid who I had the biggest crush on, asked if I was anorexic.

Needless to say he was not my crush for much longer. 

I wish that I could say that it's gotten better since I've been in college, but it simply hasn't. All it's done was show me so many other gorgeous girls who I can compare my body to. I walk around campus, looking at girls with perfect tans, muscular legs and arms and perfectly symmetrical faces and I wonder what I did wrong growing up that I couldn't have any of those things. 

"You are beautiful just the way you are." 

"Why would you want to change anything about yourself?"

"I wish I had a body like yours." 

All nice things for people to say to me, but comments like those are like when my mom asks me to do the dishwasher at home.

In one ear and out the other.

There's a reason that I don't ever wear short dresses, shorts or mini skirts. I don't want to subject the world around my to my white as a ghost stick legs. I don't want to blind drivers going by and cause a crash. 

I suck it up in the summer, wearing long skirts and baggy jeans. I hardly ever wear shorts in my own house because I compare myself to my sisters. 

I always joke about how they got all the best traits from my parents and I got the worst (sorry Mom and Dad.)

I got the thick wavy hair that always dries puffy and a small widows peak.

I got the pale Irish skin that doesn't tan but burns.

I got the extra bone in my nose right in between my eyes that makes me gag at my side profile (sorry Dad).

I got the webbed toes.

My sisters all have thin straight hair with a nice round hairline.

My sisters got the skin from my grandmother that gives them lovely tans.

My sisters all have small petite, button noses.

My sisters have normal toes.

I look at all these comparisons and think, how did genetics work out like that, where I got all these strange traits and my three sisters don't. My parents say it makes me unique, and it does. But unique isn't always a good thing.

All I wanted was to fit in at school (thank goodness no one can see my toes, otherwise high school would have been rough).

I'm working on it. Slowly trying to get better at accepting myself and stop all the comparisons. 

Just because I'm stopping the comparisons does not mean that I'm not trying to improve my appearance. 

I go to the gym for 2 hours almost every day, running on the treadmill for 40 minutes and lifting weights and doing core exercises. I have changed my eating habits to grow muscle. I drink protein shakes. The length of my skin care routine could rival an episode of The Office.

All in all, I won't necessarily say that you are perfect the way you are, because for those out there like me, you won't believe a word I say. 

Instead, I'll end with this: be kind to yourself. Body dysmorphia is like having a bully on your shoulder all day, every day. I think that it's ok to want to improve yourself or your looks, but it's not ok to be mean to yourself. 

Maybe when you're at the gym, flick the little bully off your shoulder and drop a weight on it.