Understanding Body Dysmorphia

Body dysmorphia. When you read those words, what comes to mind? It may sound harsh, right? Scary? Maybe even "dramatic" to those lucky enough to never experience it. The legitimate yet simplistic definition of body dysmorphia is that, according to www.adaa.com, "Body dysmorphia disorder is characterized by persistent and intrusive preoccupations with an imagined or “slight” defect in one’s appearance.”

To better connect the point, I’ll share portions of my story on it. Sure, I could claim to live that life and gloss over to my tips, but I felt it may be more helpful to immerse you in a little bit of my own relation to this. An “I get it, I understand you vibe.” An offer to extend knowledge to the unaware and to offer understanding to those who have/do endure this.

I’ll set the stage. A 9-year-old little black girl and her family move from diverse Washington D.C, to small-town New Hampshire. 9 years old was the first time I noticed how different I looked and was from quite a ginormous demographic of white kids. I remember starting out being assigned lunch buddies upon arriving because there weren’t exactly kids lining up to see what the new kid was about...I held my own for some time, and fortunately, by the time middle school came around, I had managed to find a couple people I felt like I could call friends.

Middle school comes around. I want to shed my elementary school skin of being the closed-off introvert. In an effort to flip, I tried out for the cheer team. I made it by default because there were two teams, and it was a no cut sport. Inevitably, since it was my first time ever even touching pompoms, I made the B-team, but I was just excited to be apart of any team at all.

I was still treated differently though; still having trouble blending in. Of course, I lucked out and managed to make some friends (and a bunch managed to be fake, but that’s for another post). I also, however, met people who thought it was okay to come up to me and compare how ”tan” they were in comparison, how me and other black peers smelled like fried chicken, and our hair felt like carpet; cute stuff like that. Some might call me insensitive. The woke acknowledge comments like that aren’t and will never be okay. I appreciate the thought: “if you’re thinking about mentioning something a person can’t change in five seconds; skin tone, weight, voice, laugh, styling choice, etc., refrain from making the comment at all.”

I’ll never forget one summer at a cheer car wash when for whatever reason, some girls were outside in a circle talking about each other’s weight. Somehow I got lumped into it, and to be light and airy, I’ll just say I wasn’t the skinniest. I was just getting into eating my feelings, and it obviously showed. The situation emerged as a short blow and went something along the lines like this:

Them: So Tianna, how much do you weigh?

Me: *answers some number close to one of the skinnier girls just gave*

Them: *looks me up and down* *looks at other cheerleaders, then back at me*

Them: *laughing hysterically* Try again, you definitely don’t weigh that...

I can’t remember what I was saved by; maybe another car pulled in or some adult came a got us back on track, but the interaction ended as quickly as it happened. In fact, I’m probably the only one of us that still remembers. I still remember though because I conjured up this memory through meditation in attempt to better understand my BDD and where it began.

It doesn’t take much to ignite a toxic flame like that in me, so, to me, it was yet another barrier. Being black in a predominantly white community, I often felt put on the spot, even when I was younger. Adding on the tick of being overweight didn’t exactly enhance my confidence.

I have story upon story of actions and words contributing to the snowball that became my body dysmorphia, but these examples are hopefully illustrating the beginnings of a compound effect. The snowball rolls from indifference, to collecting comparisons, insults, rejections, unhealthy relationships, the list continues, and before you know it, there’s the Abominable Snowman of Insecurity.

That was then though, so I suppose I should explain how it shows up today.

It shows up hand-in-hand with my depression and anxiety. It’s led me into many bad relationships, platonic and romantic, either to feel wanted and apart of something no matter how bad or to help fix and put people back together just to have the new version ghost me... also toxic.

Tools for your toolbox:

Mind games: Why is this relevant? Is there a lesson? What is my heart/mind trying to tell me?

Bounce ideas or insecurities off trusted family/friends, they should tell you how they see you, and their honesty will hopefully bring you some comfort.

Distract: airplane mode your phone, do some self care, watch some tv, facetime a friend, cook a meal, go for a walk, take a bath with some scented candles, get out of your own way.

Limit time on social media: more time to do what you actually want, less time to compare.

Self-timed cave in: set aside a specific time frame to get in your feelings, but when times up, it’s time to kickstart the self care routine, this activity can’t be an all-day type thing, I recommend one hour, tops!

Therapy: It isn’t for everyone, I know, it wasn’t for me for a time, but more and more services are being provided throughout the country. This includes telemedicine, for if you’re uncomfortable being in an actual office, and virtual group meets, some of them free depending on healthcare/insurance.

I’m not at a point in my life where I can predict whether my BDD is temporary or long term; I get in my head sometimes even with all these tools in my tool box. But day in and out, as long as you have people who see your soul and not just the skin covering it, and as long as there’s more to your life than what’s on the surface, you’ll be more than okay.

Here’s to looking in the mirror and being more comfortable with what we see.