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Editor’s Note: The last few weeks at Homegrown have seen multiple discussions about the idea of ‘body image’ and the perception of ‘perfection’. A women-dominated team, when we sat together to discuss how we saw our bodies, we found ourselves expressing confusion at our very regular and fully-functioning body parts having been described as ‘Mallu thunder thighs’, ‘lunch lady arms’, ‘bat wings’, ‘rolls’, ‘Michelin tiers’, and whatnot! Tina Fey, in her insightfully comic Bossypants (2011) tells us, “There is an infinite number of things that can be “incorrect” on a woman’s body. At any given moment on planet Earth, a woman is buying a product to correct one of the following “deficiencies”: big pores, oily T-zone, cankles, fivehead, lunch lady arms, nipples too big, nipples too small, breasts too big, breasts too small, nasal labial folds, “no arch in my eyebrows!”, FUPA (a delightfully crude acronym for a protruding lower belly)”... and the list goes on.
Growing up, we are mostly all taught to strive for perfection. The only catch is that the definition of ‘perfect’ is always left vague. Society confuses little people by pushing them towards ‘perfection’ whilst showing them constantly shifting ideals of what ‘perfect’ entails. Creatures of conditioning, we keep shuffling endlessly, feeling incomplete in ourselves and also projecting it on other people to make ourselves feel closer to the vague mystique of perfection.
Adeeti, a young lawyer from Delhi, who grew up in Jamshedpur, has a story no different from this. A brilliant student, the captain of her school’s cricket team, and perhaps, the kindest person you will ever meet, at first glance, Adeeti might come across as ‘one of the perfect ones’. However, unbeknownst to all, a large part of Adeeti’s story has been about battling body image issues which systematically worsened due to bullying and constant negative reaffirmation from people who, perhaps, were only projecting their misguided ideas of perfection on her.
After several years of shutting up and covering up, Adeeti has chosen to write her story. At this point, she says, “I wish all 13-year-olds are told that a perfect body club doesn’t exist; they are just inherently faulty ideas of society that push boys and girls into an echo chamber of shame and self-doubt.”
Still onward her journey towards self-love and acceptance, she hopes, “I wish you and me both take my advice.”
We sincerely hope that Adeeti’s story makes you find yourself, and if not, at least find hope and love for yourself.
Here’s Adeeti’s story in her own words.
“I have always been the brooding, unhappy, whiny kid. No matter how hard my family tried, it was impossible for me to just let loose, enjoy things, be carefree, and live in the moment. Maybe it was because of certain comments and varied behaviour of people around me in school. Schools can transform you into fine human beings but they can also take you on a toxic and unpleasant journey. I was insecure about grades, my appearance, my athletic abilities everything. I developed Acne Vulgaris in grade VIII, and I felt like my entire world has collapsed. I joke about it now (sometimes), but it really bothered me as a kid. So much, that I used to think, “Why does she get to have clear skin and I don’t?”. Perhaps if people around me did not blatantly point it out, I would have not cared so much, but the “Oh my god, why aren’t you eating right?” and the “Please do something about it!”, really pushed me to worry about it more than I generally would have. I always felt left out within my own circle. I didn’t have a boyfriend, and I was often asked mockingly why I don’t have one. Fat-shaming was also accompanied by fat loss advice and acne removal remedies from anyone I met anywhere, anytime, at any occasion—club, school, weddings—everywhere.
I started putting on more weight, stopped getting out of the house, stopped swimming, stopped playing cricket, and even stopped dance classes. I just sat with a packet of chips in front of the TV all day long. My parents did everything that they could—even went beyond their means to help me out. My father was posted somewhere else but whenever he was in town, both he and my mother accompanied me to at least 10 dermatologists over the span of six years, sat through the painful treatments, and bought me all expensive medicines and ointments without even so much as uttering a single word of hesitation.
Being a below-average student till grade X created further problems because it seemed like everyone but me had it under control, everyone was doing well academically, everyone knew what subjects they wanted to pursue, what their career path was, and who they aspired to be. I knew nothing. After my board exams, when I finally took up Humanities, I started performing fairly decent in school. My parents, who never emphasised on good grades, were pretty contented. For them, the effort was more significant than the end result. Despite all of it, the only person who was still not happy was I. I never gave myself credit for the work I put in, not even for doing well in grade XII. I lacked clarity; I was so indecisive. I did my Bachelors in History from Delhi University and it was a different world, I was exposed to a lot of things, met all kinds of people, interacted with men (I studied in a non-co-educational school till X), which I never quite did earlier. It was not entirely a cultural shock, but very different and … liberating.
But the body image issues continued. I did lose weight, but it wasn’t satiating enough. I was so enviously enamoured by the smart beautiful women around me at Hindu College and in my hostel that everything in the world came down to just how much space I am occupying, how much I weigh, and how my face has less skin and more pimples. I went on liquid diets, worked out, started going to the gym, tried all kinds of things—aerobics, Zumba—I did it all. I quit ice cream, chips, soft drinks, pizza, cheese, and limited a lot of other things that people my age casually did. Unlike my peers who jumped at every opportunity to post an Instagram selfie, I hated getting photographed and seeing my pictures. I installed calorie counting apps, diligently fed in data, always calculating what I ate, how much I needed to exercise and for how long to be able to enjoy a slice of cake. I ended up feeling guilty for consuming it, regardless.
The past never remains in the past. I kept thinking about the condescending remarks I had heard from people as an adolescent. “I never knew you were so fat, the school uniform does wonders to you!”, “Are you really her sister? Because you do not look like her.”, “You should work out, those legs are a little fat for a skirt”. Eventually, I carefully started choosing the clothes I wore— no cut sleeves, no shorts, no dresses. All of this combined, basically, turned out to be recipe for disaster.
At 18, I used to think that once I am 21 or 22, I will grow out of it, and these things won’t matter because I will be busy ‘adulting’. I will just wake up one day and not feel under-confident. At 21, the perplexities of law school got the best of me. Insecurities regarding academics, public speaking, looking for internships, so many first days in new offices every summer and winter surrounded by smart and confident lawyers, future employment—all crawled from under the table. I was anxious and overwhelmed all the time. The sinking feeling I had every Sunday night upon thinking about returning to college on Monday was nauseating. I felt hollow, just did not know how to enjoy a moment, and how to handle so many emotions, even though I had the privilege to go back home every Friday afternoon. All of this, coupled with constantly fighting with food, started taking a toll on me.
I kept thinking about my school life. I never scored beyond a 5 in those games you play in social circles where you ‘rate’ your friends and classmates out of 10 on the basis of looks. I distinctly remember what I had felt when a boy passing by had addressed all the girls sitting near the poolside but not me. It was probably nothing, but good luck trying to convince an insecure middle school girl that it meant nothing! You see, at that age, you take everything seriously, even though it might not be true for everyone.
My family always thought that I have a habit of ruining pleasant scenarios with my drama if I refused to leave the house for a party. I could not explain it to them because I myself failed to understand what I was going through. I was always irritable. In fact, I avoided social events to the extent that I started living in the fear of getting invited to a party one day and failing to provide an excuse to skip it.
I am 24 now, recently graduated out of law school, unemployed, with the same set of issues, but perhaps, a slightly different approach. I am still dealing with anxiousness. I still am very uncomfortable in my skin. I still count calories and push myself to work out on most days. I feel all the aforementioned things very deeply. But, I know that it is a gradual process. Rome was not built in one day. I still stick to Indian wear because I feel it makes me look slim, but I do eat chips and ice cream and all kinds of chocolate pastries (my most favourite) whenever I want to (in moderation though). I work out, not just to tone down but also to be fit and feel healthy.
I am a work in progress. I still struggle and I have a lot to work on and learn. I still worry when I have to go out. I feel very lonely, but I am certain that I will get there. I am an extremely privileged Indian girl, someone who lived rather comfortably through this very long lockdown, not having to worry about anything. This does not necessarily mean undermining the lows I or other privileged people go through. However, it does mean that such a myopic view is dangerous sometimes.
At this point, all I can say is that, there will always be people scoring higher than you, looking better than you (in your head), being kinder than you, or just taller or slimmer than you. Someone will always get a job before you. Some people will unconditionally love you and some will hurt you. Cherish the people who always stand by you. Forgive people who target your weaknesses and play with them. No man, no woman, no teacher, no boss can tell you your worth. Try not comparing yourself with others, you’ll get detached from yourself every time you do that. It is easier said than done, and some days will be difficult, so allow yourself to absorb it, but don’t let it absorb you. Your demons might always be a part of your mind, so befriend them. Positivity will barely help, so have faith in your beautiful self. I wish all 13-year-olds are told that a ‘perfect body club’ doesn’t exist; they are just inherently faulty ideas of society that push boys and girls into an echo chamber of shame and self-doubt.
Finally, I wish you and I both take my advice.”
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