Body Image Issues (Guess what I don't "need to eat something" & I don't care about the red patches of skin)

Haven't blogged for nearly two years, but here we are again!

Body image is something I've been thinking about for a while. And I started thinking about my own body image, mainly in relation to the visible signs of eczema, the angry red patches of skin on my body, but also my weight, which I've discussed before.

Body image seems to have become a very common obsession with men these days. More common than it ever seemed to be before. I think before it was seen to only be an issue women dealt with. But now men who never bothered before are now doing things like "going to the gym" and discussing "getting ripped" with colleagues at work. However, it still seems that discussion of body image issues primarily revolves around women. It seems men are too ashamed to admit that they too have issues with their bodies, because it's a "feminine" issue. Men pls.

Men's inability to admit that they have issues aside (that's for another post), let's talk about me. I, like most, was very conscious of my body growing up as a teenager and never liked it much. I was way too white, too thin, too bony, my neck was too long, my fingers too spidery, my shoulders never seemed to get any broader like they told us they would in school classes about puberty, and I didn't seem to be growing hair in all the places I was supposed to. Nobody ever told us that some boys' shoulders don't really grow broad, and not everyone grows a whole bunch of hair all over their body. I know now of course, everyone is different and there is huge variation in people's bodies, but at the time I felt inadequate. And I'm sure that's something we're all familiar with.

It took me some time to come to terms with my body. At 17 I was probably at my lowest point (I disliked pretty much everything about myself at that point, but that's another story.) At 18 I began the process of coming to like my body shape, but I still had deep-set issues, which I allowed to be reinforced by a steady stream of comments from acquaintances, friends and strangers regarding the "fact" that I was "too skinny", "needed to eat something" or "anorexic". At this point in my life I still allowed negative things people said to me affect what I thought of myself. And especially where friends were concerned, any negative comments about my weight hurt more and intensified my struggle to come to terms with the fact that my body is perfectly likeable.

Aged 20 I moved to Spain and became more independent than ever before. Having independence helped me a great deal with coming to terms with liking myself. I had to rely on myself more than I ever had before as the support network I'd had all my life was on an island hundreds of miles away. Relying on myself made me realise I could do all kinds of things I never thought I could do, and that I was a person who was worth something, who was worth liking. After being in a situation with a person who by all accounts should have complimented me on my body, but did quite the opposite, I didn't feel good about myself and I ended up spending a lot of time alone.

We had a large mirror in the bathroom of the apartment I was living in, so I could see myself as I showered and as I got out the shower. I was confronted by my own body. I stopped and looked at myself and it began. It began to sink in that my body wasn't so bad. I turned to the side, acknowledged the depth of my body. I turned back, and looked at the deep groove down the middle of my back, looked at how my shoulder blades protruded, how my back curved inwards and then out again towards the bottom. I faced myself. Looked at my flat stomach, my visible rib cage, the way my elbow joints look huge on my spindly little arms. As time went by I began to come to terms with the body I saw in the mirror. I got more and more used to the idea that my body was fine the way it was. Its shape was unique and it was mine and it made me me.

Liking the colour of my skin took a while longer. I have a very light complexion, I have the red hair gene from the Irish side of my family tree. My heritage is also English, and possibly Scottish... so all in all, very white. I practically glow in the sunshine, as the light reflects off of me. I always hated seeing photos of myself in the sun on holiday. I couldn't stand the sight of my bright white skin. I always envied the olive-skinned people I would see on the Mediterranean beaches and as I've gotten older I admire dark-skinned men more and more. Their skin: a beautiful, rich colour, smooth and stunning in the sunlight. My skin: better off covered up and hidden away. As I've gotten more used to liking the shape of my body though, that brought with it the ability to like my skin. My body shape makes me me and my skin makes me me, my skin isn't dark brown, it is bright white, it's mine and I own it. It's my own unique skin.

Further challenges to liking my skin are brought by living with chronic eczema. After a period of relative remission last summer the eczema has required constant looking after, with regular corticosteroid use for nearly a year. This is the longest I've ever had to consistently use topical steroids without a break. What I'm saying is, things aren't great. I'm left with patches of red skin all over my body. For a while I was afraid of them being seen, because of what other people might think. But then I realised life is too short to care about what other people might think of my red patches of skin, and that anybody who makes any negative comment about it isn't worth having around anyway. I may not be physically comfortable in my skin, but I can be emotionally comfortable. I can take ownership of what I have. I can look at myself in the mirror, red patches and all and say "That's me, I'm unique and I'm gorgeous."

And this is what I have learned. I am gorgeous. We are gorgeous in our uniqueness. I learned it through really LOOKING at my own body, and choosing not to see flaws, but uniqueness. I choose to not pay mind to the rude comments of others because I DECIDED that I am worth more than that. I don't need to eat more. I'm not too skinny. I'm not anorexic. I'm Joshua. I accept and love myself, so anybody who can't accept me doesn't really matter.

And that's the difference between me at 23 and me at 18.