Today I like my body

Today I like my body

Emily Lavinia

Over the years I’ve had a complex relationship with my own body. Imagine feeling uncomfortable about something, then being in awe of it, then disliking it or hating the sight of it on some days but still, having to carry it with you or rather, having it carry you everywhere you’d go each and every day.  

I am not my (body) hair. Or am I?

I am not my (body) hair. Or am I?

Maïna Cissé

When Lily messaged me to feature in this shoot she said: "I can write you a story about perfectionism and body hair if you fancy shooting a model with unshaved legs??". To which I responded: "of course, looking forward to reading you". I said "Of course", yet I cropped this image. 

I don't want to be gifted

I don't want to be gifted

Eugénie

Eugénie participated in our Anti-Casting Shoot for the For awesome // Against perfect collection and shared with us how perfectionism impacted her growing up and how it has since shaped the decisions she has made in her adult life. 

Not everyone will like you

Not everyone will like you

Jessica Semaan

One day, you find a yellow orchid in your room But you don’t like orchids 

Help me kill the Kardashians

Help me kill the Kardashians

Ezinne Ukoha

No, not literally. We just need them to disappear as seamlessly as they appeared. It all seemed innocent enough. A decade ago the Reality TV spell was gaining steam and The Kardashians were needed right away. 

Fuck making it

Fuck making it

Jessica Semaan

You want to make a by the age of b, Own c by the age of d, Marry e by the age of f 

Perfection is overrated

Perfection is overrated

The Muse

Finish this sentence: “Before I launch a new product, send my resume to a potential employer or finalize a speech to deliver in front of the whole company, I want to make sure it’s ____.” 

Why you should stop comparing

Why you should stop comparing

Jessica Semaan​

I compared my wealth, Until I felt poor, I compared my health, Until I felt ill 

Today I like my body

Emily Lavinia

Emily Aceandboogie

Over the years I’ve had a complex relationship with my own body. Imagine feeling uncomfortable about something, then being in awe of it, then disliking it or hating the sight of it on some days but still, having to carry it with you or rather, having it carry you everywhere you’d go each and every day.

Today I like my body. Each curve, each pale limb, soft freckled expanses and protruding bones are all lovely to me. Although, I’ll always wish I had different breasts... I’ve never been able to shake that off.

But I’ve unloaded most of the other stuff. The dysmorphic thinking, the tears, the shame and the jealousy. I grew up looking at images of milky pre-raphaelite women, permatanned porn stars and shiny Barbies, princesses with doe eyes and impossible waists and felt conflicted.

At 15 I hated my small, curveless body and saw none of my own beauty. That made me hungry for the love of others, feeling desired was everything and when that becomes the case, you can lose sight of yourself. My teens and my twenties were fairly troubled. Low self esteem, anxiety, disordered eating and self medication meant that my weight fluctuated a lot and I sought approval of my physical self from wherever I could.

I’m now 28 and I wear a bra for fun, not because I need one. Because it makes me feel good. I tell myself that my body is a gift and for the first time, I like being on my own with it, looking at it and appreciating what I have. I don’t need someone to tell me how pretty or sexy or perfect it is. It’s always nice when someone compliments you but what does someone else’s opinion really amount to? It’s mine. It’s the only thing I truly own, it carries me everywhere and I owe it to my body to care for it and love it.

I tell myself that every day and I spend time looking at it, touching it and thanking myself for how it feels, how healthy it is, how great it looks in a pair of lacy knickers or wrapped in a sheet with my hair all messed up from my pillows. I wear tiny bikinis, I eat three meals a day and I tell myself to chill the F out because in the last couple of years I’ve realised, the only thing preventing me from feeling good about my body is me. How simultaneously brutal and beautiful is that?