Late Bloomer: Body Issues
When How You Feel About Your Body Prevents Love
This is Late Bloomer, an essay series about coming out later in life and the issues around it. This is not an academic dissection. This is a pig farmer talking about how long it took me to catch up, and what that experience has taught me. I hope writing this series helps build allyship and understanding and saves some of you the time I lost.
Last post in this series I talked about why change is so scary, and how fear of it gets in the way of our happiness. This essay is focused on how negative thoughts about our bodies get in the way of our esteem, confidence, and experiences. I think more people suffer from self-loathing and dysmorphia than they even realize, and turn that self-hatred into poison. You don’t have to live like this anymore if you don’t want to.
Reminder to anyone reading this, if you don’t like consuming essays this way, there is always the option to just listen, click the podcast link at the top of this substack or hit play on the post in your email, you can listen anywhere, anytime.
Disclaimer: I am not an expert in sexuality or psychology. I am a memoirist sharing experiences and opinions. Do not read this post if sexuality is challenging for you to think about or question at this time.
New to this series? Here are the archives so far:
Part 1: Lesbian Coyotes Mugged Me at a Waterfall (When I realized I was gay)
Part 2: Why Women Take So Long To Realize They’re Queer (Comphet is hell)
Part 3: Fear of Change & Moving Past It (Being brave for yourself & others)
Part 4: Body Issues (Getting over ourselves so we can be happy)
Part 5: Building Community (How to make queer friends)
Part 6: Coming Out (The work of changing identity in adulthood)
My Body
We’ve all got one. And there’s a good chance you feel about yours exactly how I feel about mine, which is you hope you’ll eventually come to peace with it and just enjoy your life.
But if you’re a woman—especially a woman born before 2000—there’s a really good chance that’s one tall order and you’re still fighting for that peace inside yourself.
I think I can help. You’re about to get a bunch of advice from someone who’s been on both sides of this, and now is currently in a state of hopeful homeostasis. It’s been over five years since the last throes of bulimia and I’m in my fourth year of sobriety*—but since age 13 I had been purging, and it came in and out of my life in waves with short breaks every few years.
I still struggle with my body sometimes. I’m human. But my self-loathing is nothing like before. It’s easy to snap myself out of it now and move on with my life.
I am in no way claiming my advice is a cure, and I am not a substitute for your doctor, therapist, or marriage counselor. But I have kicked my ED, alcoholism, and negative self talk for good and I did it thanks to learning to love my body, forgive myself, and the people that taught me to hate it.
All that disorder and self-hatred was pointless, but I refuse to pretend it didn’t happen. Because talking about my brain poison could be the someone else’s antidote. So I’m going to share the thoughts and that got me out of that bullshit ouroboros. I hope it helps some of you get started on the same path so you can move past this unnecessary doubt and enjoy dating, sex, and romance as you wish to experience it!
*California Sober. I don’t drink or use any sort of hard or RX “fun” drugs. I do smoke weed. It’s legal in NY and friends and neighbors grow it like tomatoes; so it’s free and plentiful and small doses make me feel calm. Listen, I’m just a lesbian not one of God’s soldiers.
Why Do You Hate Your Body?
Because you are constantly comparing yourself to more people than nature ever imagined. Homo Sapiens like us evolved to live in small communities of (approximately) 150 individuals max. Communities of this size included members of all ages, genders, roles, and purposes with the benefit of the group at the center of import.
In smaller groups everyone has a role. Everyone has something of value. You may have been the best hunter or the wisest advice giver, the finest forager or the strongest arms and your community knew and valued you for those things. You were the healer, the baker, the fasted runner to carry messages or warnings. You interacted with the folks who lived under the same circumstances and knew your worth and were grateful for it.
But now, we are isolated from community and purpose. Trapped in our own apartments looking at curated images posted by millions of people we were never supposed to meet. People that use filters on blotchy skin, photoshop wrinkles and curves, apply Kardashian-level makeup and we’re supposed to be comparing ourselves to that?!
Imagine if the primitive village baker was given Instagram and started comparing her bread—the bread that has nourished and fed her people for decades—to the bread made in a part of the world with different soil and water, with different grains and recipes, something beautiful but clearly unattainable, and feeling nothing but shame for not having the ability to compete. Her once-prideful role feels like a failure. All those smiling faces dipping her bread into oil and salt feels like lies…
We think our differences are failures when they are just differences. You can stop blaming yourself. This pain from comparison doesn’t even make sense, darling.
Healing The False Narrative
So here’s the good news. If you’re unhappy with your body there’s a good chance it wasn’t even your idea. You were taught to hate it. If you take one thing away from this series, let it be that what you were taught about your body and sexuality is not your fault.
Most of what is holding you back from body acceptance is fighting against the conventions we were all taught to worship. That the epitome of womanly achievement was to be a beautiful, rich, hetero, and married with kids. Every nuclear family their own little Camelot.
That’s what our culture, our parents, our media, our peers trained us to be. Even if some of us had the most progressive and supportive families in the world, it didn’t matter as long as society-at-large was laughing at fat people like they were moral failures and everyone you saw on screen looked like a model. If you read my essay on comp het, a lot of this will sound familiar. Most of the reasons we hate ourselves, don’t know ourselves, don’t feel it’s okay to accept ourselves: is taught for control and power.
Well, fuck that.
None of Your Business
What other people think about your body is none of your business.
If someone is looking at your body (and your body isn’t threatening their life or livelihood in anyway) and feels disgust, that has nothing to do with you. Read that sentence again. AGAIN.
It has to do with what they hate about themselves. Every. Single. Time. And if you are going to dare to love your body, express that love with other people, and go through life generally accepting of your flaws with grace… That is a revolutionary act!
People that are obsessed with how they are perceived never stop judging others. They can’t help it. Finding failings in you, me, anyone is the only way to keep their head above water because they can look down on someone else.
It comes out in a thousand little tells. Sometimes it’s shit talking under their breath, “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that crop top” or sometimes it’s a loud performance “Lizzo on a magazine cover is promoting obesity!” Or whatever.
But in the end, what these miserable people think about you is none of your business. Let their hate hold back their own happiness and lose their friends. Because those of us that can look at at the bigger picture—can see other women with love and respect instead of disdain and envy—are capable both of escaping our self-made cages and helping others escape, too.
You’ve probably already started healing your self-image, but on a time delay:
Have you ever looked back at a picture of your younger self and feel nothing but envy for her youth, her body, her hair? But at the time the photo was taken, you KNOW you didn’t feel like someone with enviable features. You hated your body then, too. But time and perspective grants this new filter and now all you see is a stronger, smoother, and “better” body you wish you still had now.
How sad to think the miserable 46-year-old version of you wishes it could go back to the miserable 22-year-old version of you? Just to have the distance to appreciate what was already lost.
When body-shaming pops back into my mind I have to forcefully remove it, and the best way I’ve learned to do this is pretend I am 65 looking back at photos of myself now. What about me would my older self envy? What would she still wish she had? And instead of hating what about me isn’t perfect, I let myself love what I’ll surely lose and still have access to.
Who you are right now is the youngest, smartest, strongest and wisest you will ever be. Stop acting like that isn’t true.
Start a Positive Daily Practice
You need to start taking back control of the narrative. Easier said than done, but it can start right now. Stop reading this and go into the bathroom and look yourself right in the eye. Say, aloud, “I am beautiful. I am worthy of love.” and if you’re anything like me it was hard to even look at yourself the first time. But say it. Say it if you think it’s rehearsed lines and you don’t believe it. Say it every single time you are in the bathroom from now on, even at a whisper, even silently to yourself at the movie theatre restroom. Say it every time you lock eyes with you.
Someone has to start telling you the truth. It might as well start with you.
I started saying this in 2021. It took three years to believe it. Coming out, relationships, sex, none of that made me feel like I actually deserved love or was beautiful. But when I see myself in the mirror now I see the clever little coyote under her old brown hat, forever surviving despite every obstacle. And what I now call self love, started as self respect. I felt even if I would never be beautiful, I could be amazing. I could be accomplished. I could help others. I could find my role in a small community and be valued for it.
And when you feel those intrusive thoughts coming in. When you see dark circles under your eyes, or arm flab, or neck wrinkles… you stop that shit and replace it with I am beautiful. I deserve love. Fake it till you make it.
Once you start paying attention to how horribly you think about yourself, and how often, you stop seeing it as your reality and more of an interesting observation. Like a rash that returns but doesn’t itch, something that is happening to you - not because of you.
And if you match this change in negative thinking with a positive daily body practice, HOO! You won’t BELIEVE how much you can build your esteem and self love in a year!
So if you like walking, walk. If you like hiking, hike. If you like gardening, swimming, stretching, running, meditating… I don’t care if you’re on the town swing-set at the park or on a massage table but start a practice where you are experiencing the world entirely in your own body and grateful it’s there.
This is the best advice I have as someone who has not had access to mental health services, therapy, personal trainers or anything else I thought I needed to stop this cycle. Because I found a gentle, healing, inexpensive way to get as much validation and support as I needed and it was from stranger I never met in North Carolina.
The Woman Who Changed Everything For Me
Through luck I was introduced to Jessamyn Stanley’s online yoga practice, The Underbelly. It was the biggest catalyst in changing how I felt about my body.
I always liked yoga, but I never liked yoga classes. Every class I experienced was some thin young white woman who stretched in front of the class and we were all supposed to copy her. Sometimes adjustments or advice was given, but only for the more challenging poses. We were already supposed to know how to do the beginner stuff (btw “beginner poses” are the poses we actually need the MOST instruction on how to practice, breathe, and hold ourselves through! They are the entire foundation of the practice) But rarely did the person leading a class ever explain WHY we were moving and breathing. Rarely did I get anything out of it but the false feeling of checking something “good for me” off a list that ended up made me feel worse. All I did was compare myself to the other women in the class. Another place I was a beast among the beautiful.
But Underbelly was different. Jessamyn is a fat, black, openly queer woman and proudly so. Her classes actually explained how to practice yoga. There are 20 minute videos on her website explaining how to sit down correctly. You think Kayleigh Brooklyn in a 60-minute studio class she’s paying rent to teach in is spending a third of that time on how to feel calm and powerful in your own body sitting still on the floor? She’s not.
My practice with Jessamyn started with a series called Seeds. These were 8-10 minute super basic instructions I never got in any other yoga class. I would play 2 or three of these videos in the comfort of my own living room. I wore loose, baggy, clothes so nothing felt like it was restricting me. I’d light the fire, some candles, put on some chill lofi in the background, and roll out my yoga mat where no one but me was there to judge my body. My judgement was plenty, thank you very much.
In the safety of my own home I practiced. It wasn’t about anything but breath, compassion, and self love at first. I practiced with the entire focus being an affirmation of my body and this newfound devotion to it. If you think that’s a hard thing, don’t worry because it wasn’t my voice I was trusting, it was Jessamyn’s. Her kindness and confidence in her gorgeous strong body was the example I needed. Everything from how she wore her workout clothes to how she gave breaks during classes that no live class instructor ever did - things like moving your belly off your thigh or taking time to fix your clothes… stuff people with rolls and curves need to do, but never hear when their instructor hasn’t felt her thighs touch in her entire life.
I practiced every day, every single evening after farm chores. After a few weeks I stopped hiding my body under giant sweatsuits and started wearing movement clothes that dancers and yogis wear. Nothing fancy, but I switched to leggings and a sports bra and loved how I looked in them!
I practiced because after every class I felt better than I have after any therapy session, purchase, or makeover. Her sermons on loving the body you’ve got truly changed how I felt about myself, because now I had an example of who I could become.
I know this sounds like a commercial, and rolling around on the floor isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. But if you can try it, do it. I’ll post a free class specifically for body acceptance below. And if you think I’m posting some workout video, oh darling, no. This is not advanced. This is mostly laying on your back or your stomach and some very simple stretches. If nothing else, just try it once. Set up a calm and loving space where no one but you and the screen is there. It could change how you think about your body and your life forever and it’s 30 minutes, free, and right here.
And maybe this yoga isn’t for you. Maybe what you need is a daily walk where you listen to a body positive podcast. Maybe you need an audiobook about healing your self image while sitting in your city park watching birds and people. It doesn’t matter what you do as long as you are listening to affirming and healing words while moving your body as a practice towards self love.
Because even if you don’t buy it at first, even if it feels dumb, just dedicating time to loving yourself as you are is a powerful choice. To do something that takes your mind off how other’s perceive you, that moves your body, that forces you to breathe and listen... just the act of trying to create a practice where for 30 minutes a day you like your body, changes your wiring.
Maybe you will only feel comfortable in a sports bra and shorts doing yoga alone in your living room at first, but eventually a regular practice of self-love starts to creep in. Suddenly you don’t care if your legs and arms are showing at the family reunion with your judgmental aunts, it’s HOT. You don’t care if someone says something mean on social media, they’re miserable.
You are all you’ve got. This one life. This one body. Stop denying yourself joy like just existing is something you should be punished for.
You’re running out of time.
If you need to fake it till you make it, fine. That’s what I had to do. But after a few weeks of practicing yoga with her, I started to cringe when I saw my Spanx in the dresser drawer. I felt different about my body, body hair, about other bodies too. The kinder I was to myself the more I appreciated every body I met. Confidence and love are always more healing and good than loathing and punishment. And if I can get there, at 41, broke and alone in the middle of the woods with just me, the internet. and a yoga mat… You can too.
This is where things really get hard. Because I think a lot of us can at least conceive of learning to accept our bodies. A lot of us can understand that a practice focused on retraining our brain, replacing negative thoughts with encouraging ones, and being gentle and loving etc. But all that may fly out the window when you’re naked with another person. Especially if the person you want to get naked with is another woman for the first time.
But here’s something I hope helps. If you’re reading this as a queer woman, regardless of being closeted our not—you can relax. Sex between women is different. There are of course no blanket statements and every partner has the capacity to be an angel or a demon, but generally speaking; if a woman wants to get naked with you, you can trust that she wants to be there.
Maybe you have a hard time believing it. Which I can understand. I’m a short, stout, fireplug of a woman with pale skin covered in scratches and bruises like the range animal I am. I got a body full of cellulite and flab and new fun wrinkles and white hairs showing up and nothing about me is something you’d consider conventionally attractive and guess what - it doesn't matter. It doesn’t matter in the slightest.
Because I’m not trying to have sex with me. I’m having sex with another woman, and I trust that she sees something in me that gets her as excited to be there as I am with her. I’m not there to be used to achieve an orgasm. I’m there because what gets her off is giving me one, and vice versa. Which is a mind-blowing shift if you’ve never experienced it before.
And if you think body shame is just for middle-aged chubby dykes? I’ve had sex with women HALF my body weight that worry their bodies aren’t curvy enough, that their boobs are too small, that they aren’t strong enough to perform certain acts or try certain positions and regardless if they look like a Roman temple should be erected to their perfection and beauty - they can’t see it in themselves. They’ve been trained to think they aren’t good enough, too.
I learned from these partners new ways to see myself by what they saw in me. They didn’t see what I hated. They felt strong arms and legs, curves, hips, boobs, lavender body oil and soft words. I trust them to be there because they want to be. Because I also wanted to be there. And I think you’ll find once the first wash of nerves passes, and when you can tell in every fiber of your being that woman WANTS you there, needs you there…
You can let go of all that shit and just enjoy yourself. Over and over.
There Isn’t A Cure, There’s Just Love.
I’m talking about all the ways I have dealt with shame and hatred towards my body, but I need to underline the truth that I am not cured. There isn’t one. I still fall into hating my body sometimes. I still cringe at pictures people take and show me, I did it just this past week. But when it happens I recognize it now. I know it’s a lie. I know it’s Cosmo and Sex and the City and Low Rise Jeans and Joey Potter. I know it’s a comfortable lie I got used to, that I accepted while my brain was still developing.
And maybe the rest of my life I will be learning to slowly make changes that honor my body instead of punish it. That’s amazing. That’s a life worth living.
Love your life (and your love life ) without needing to reside in a “perfect” body. Do it past your twenties, your thirties, your forties till the day you die. Find validating bliss getting naked with someone who wants to be there, or with yourself damnit. Sex doesn’t have to be with a partner. Splurge on a nice vibrator. You deserve worship and pleasure and release as much as anyone else.
People still immersed in self hatred will try their best to bring you down to their level, to validate their own shame. This is an act of self preservation. I know when someone sees a picture of me hiking and calls me a beached whale I know that isn’t about my body. It’s about their personal offense that I’m not as ashamed of it.
I am short. I am soft. I have thin hair from ED and teeth that need a couple grand of work… and despite all of this insecurity - everyone I actually dated, slept with, liked me back… did so with my real body and self. I wouldn't question their preferences on what they like to wear, eat, or pray to so why would I question their attraction to me?
Believe her.
Believe her if for no other reason than she’s the one present, in front you, wanting you - and why on earth would you ever care about some anonymous coward on the internet or sideways comment from a cousin who still takes speed and drinks lemon water with chili in it for breakfast instead of the people who are naked, in front of you, there to celebrate your beautiful, abundant, giving body?
Last Thoughts
I know a substack essay isn’t going to heal your body issues. And nothing I write is going to change realities in your life and body right now. But I hope reading about someone who was so far gone, snapped out of it, came out, found love and pleasure and a working acceptance can be a model for you. We need examples.
This is all you got. This life, this body. If you spend 30 minutes loving it, starting today, you may find that the other 23-and-a-half hours of hating it starting to get tired. Feeling good, feels good. And in this case, you get to choose. So why are you still choosing shame?
Do this for you. Do this for your lovers. Do this for your partner, your family. Because only when we love every part of ourselves can we even begin to truly love others and not see them as comparisons. Love is a door. Get in here.
You are beautiful. You are worthy of love.
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