OPINION - Body image

“You’ve got fat legs.”

Until that moment, aged five, waiting my turn to balance on a beam in PE, I’d never thought about my body or how it looked at all. Those four words, casually thrown in my direction by the boy behind me in the line, landed with such force my whole world shifted.

Untold and uncountable factors fed into my eventual experiences with disordered eating and struggles with body image. But that was the moment I realised and recognised three life-changing facts.

My body was a thing. Other people could pass judgment on it. And I felt ashamed of it.

My body was a thing. Other people could pass judgment on it. And I felt ashamed of it.

Over forty years later, with the memory of that day still pin-sharp, I was asked by my Baptist college tutor to write a poem about body image for a chapel service.

He didn’t know my history: the two decade-long battle I’d fought with my mirror-dwelling bully of an eating disorder and the daily struggles I continued to have with body image.

I told him I thought I’d find it a hard one to write and he gave me full permission not to write it at all. But it felt important, for me and for anyone who would read it, so I set aside a couple of days to think, pray and write.

In the end, though, all it took was a single afternoon spent with God.

____

Deeper than skin

If you go out
Looking like that
Everyone will see
What you try
To hide inside

I looked in the mirror this morning
And the mirror looked back at me
She said

Look at the state of you
What have you done to yourself
You’ve really let yourself go
And nowhere pretty
If you go out
Looking like that
Everyone will see
What you try
To hide inside
You’re greedy
And lazy
And worthless

I heard the mirror
My old foe
And I hung my head
Again

She and her fellow bully
Accidental shop window glance
Never seem to miss the chance
To cut me
With their judgment
And wound me
With their burrowing words

I’ve heard it all before, of course
Her words are as old as my thoughts

In childhood
She silenced me
In my teens
She starved me
In motherhood
She shamed me

She silenced me
In my teens
She starved me
In motherhood
She shamed me
And in my middle ages
She still collects her wages
With the same old words

If you had
Bigger eyes
Smaller thighs
Plumper lips
Slimmer hips
Straighter hair
(But no hair there)
And no pimples or wrinkles or freckles or dimples
You’d be
Happier
Better
Liked
Loved

And it’s hard to cultivate
A well-adjusted mental state
When mannequins all wear size eight
And congratulations validate
Weight loss
As a win
Look at you
You’re so thin
Well done

And it’s hard to ignore
To disregard or pacify
When everyday I feel
As if my body is my enemy
A fully separate entity
Existing as a cell
Around the real me
And I’m weak
And I’m tired
And I’m trapped
Inside

I knit you together
Carefully, beautifully,
Fearfully, wonderfully

But
If I listen
Stop all the chatter and
Really listen
I hear a different voice
Louder
Clearer
So much dearer
Saying
“Child, my child
Come closer, draw nearer.

These are my words…
I know you
I’ve searched you
I know you in your resting
I know you in your bustling
Before you speak
I know your words
I even know
The quietness
And the unquietness
Of your thoughts
I know you

These are my words…
I’m here
I’m with you
All around you
My guiding hand
Grounds you
And even when you turn away
And squirrel in the dark
I’m still holding you
I’m here

These are my words…
I made you
You are my creation
I knit you together
Carefully, beautifully,
Fearfully, wonderfully,
With just the right strands
To make you
You are my creation
I made you

I listened
And His words
Sank
Deeper than skin

These are my words
I am the Lord
The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob
The Holy One
The Creator God
I created you
In my image
I created you
Whole
Not as a collection
Of lumps and bumps
And gristly bits
Wrapped around your self
I created you whole
In my image
I am the Lord.”

I looked in the mirror this morning
And the mirror looked back at me
I heard her words
Her barbs, her lies
I hung my head
I closed my eyes

Then I stopped

I stopped

I bowed my head
And I listened to Him
I listened
And His words
Sank
Deeper than skin

Continued below...

Being a Christian doesn’t mean life suddenly turns into a soft-focus, trouble-free Hallmark card of an existence. I’ve been a Christian since I was six, and have experienced low self-esteem, anxiety and depression throughout most of my life. And all the while I have genuinely felt the love of God and known deep-down joy in his presence. Humans are complicated!

But the shame I felt about my body as a child, and the shame I’ve felt since because of my struggles, has no place in my life. Jesus died on the cross and rose again, defeating death, sin and shame.

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

Galatians 5:1 tells us “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”

Freedom from shame means not only accepting myself as I am now, but also accepting the life I’ve lived to get here. It’s not all been squeaky clean, and I’ve said sorry to God for the part I’ve played in that. And I know he loves me, forgives me and accepts me.

The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob (and Deborah, Ruth and Rahab!) loves, forgives and accepts each of us as we turn to him. Even now I find this incredible, and still get goosebumps reading the pure praise of Psalm 8, or David’s prayer of praise in 1 Chronicles 29:10–13, or John’s vision of Jesus in Revelation 1: 9–18 and knowing that this same great, powerful glorious Lord was with me during my lowest, hidden moments, and is with me now.

The bully still lives in the mirror, and she sometimes manages to put a dent in my day. But her voice is weaker now and her lies ring hollower.

Instead I listen to the one who made me, who knows me and who loves me. I read and re-read Psalm 139. I turn up the volume and sing Who you say I am so loud I make myself laugh. I turn my eyes – and my ears – towards Jesus, and I let his words sink deeper than skin.

For more from Ali Joy Tinson, visit her website.

To see Ali read her poem, watch here.