Trying to Love my Lockdown Body
This week, I took nudes for my own damn self.
Illustration by Ally Hart
DAY 37 I feel sexy as hell!
It’s a challenge to take a nude, let alone a series of nudes every day for a week to see how this visceral act of self indulgence would or could change my outlook on something I’ve felt so conflicted about my entire life.
You see, I’ve spent an embarrassingly long time hating my body. I was a heavy kid, and as a young adult I’ve always middled from 140 to 180 pounds. When I reached my late teens, I had convinced myself that I was unbearable to look at. I would comment on being fat, on being chubby, and whoever was listening to me complain would inform me that I was wrong, I was beautiful, I wasn’t fat at all. No matter how much weight I lost, gained, my opinion on myself stayed the same for a while. I was inadequate. I was too much.
The opinion slowly changed. I warmed up to my curves and my rolls, my soft thighs and the way my arms would droop when I lifted them. I was as strong as I was soft, and I occupied a powerful space.
Lockdown has warped my self image dramatically. Since my physical activity is minimal, and my main hobby is crafting intricate and ridiculous dishes for myself, my frame is a little squishier, my chin a little softer.
I hate it. I hate it because it reminds me of someone I’ve tried to shake off, and no matter how body positive I want to be, I can’t help the stress that creeps through my chest when my pants feel too tight, or my body feels too heavy. To top it off, last week, someone on Twitter indirectly informed their 56 followers that I have a flat ass. That’s fine. People can believe what they want to believe about me and my flat ass, but it wasn’t a comment I was expecting.
All this made for a less-than-ideal environment to start taking daily nudes. I tried to take a few shots every day in different poses, with or without underwear. Sometimes, lazy and nude in my bed the moment I woke up, and sometimes in my desktop mirror, comfortable Uniqlo underwear covering my butt, my soft belly perched over the hem.
I found myself scrolling past the photos in embarrassment, feeling detached and in disbelief that I would ever keep such gross, indulgent things on my phone. I’ve taken nudes before, of course I have, I’ve just deleted every single one I’ve ever taken. They exist in mine and my partner’s chat log and in the back of my brain, but I ignore them.
I kept finding things to quietly critique. My nipples were too big, my belly too round. I had too much body hair and not enough definition in my jaw, my arms. This wasn’t feeling like a successful experiment. Not only was I not feeling liberated, but every nude felt a little pointless. Who would want to see these? How is this appealing to anyone?
I’m not sure exactly how, but something changed. I got creative. I snapped a picture of my ass, the aforementioned flat ass that was lightly roasted on irrelevant Twitter. I admired it. The soft edges, the ridges and wobbles. It was an interesting ass, in terms of asses. Taking nudes began to feel like less of a chore and more of a part of my daily, casual routine. Just getting out of bed? Snap a quick picture. Damp from the shower and ready to get dressed? Just a quick picture of my chest. Not a big deal.
There’s something cathartic about having a nude picture that is purely for yourself. You’re not attempting to impress anyone, and in a way, you’re not attempting to impress yourself either, it’s just a mode of expression, one that I’m not used to, but one that I found myself growing more and more comfortable with.
Weirdly enough, this challenge feels like something I could continue to do in the future. I feel kind when I see my body, a flourish of something that isn’t anger or upset… just this neutral kindness.
I don’t know if this challenge changed my opinion on my body completely. I don’t know if it would be for you, kind reader… but to fit a little time in your day to give yourself a little love, it’s a nice practice.
