Chapter 2, Part 5 - Are The Choices About Your Body Really Only Yours?

I don't know how I should act in this situation. To be clear, it's a completely normal event that shouldn't cause the slightest problem to either my body or my mind, yet, as obvious as it is, there's something that unsettles me.

I'm in a normal room with a very specific purpose. If I had the courage to take a good look around, I'd probably say there are lockers, showers, and who knows what else. I mentioned these two things because I've been in this place before, and also because they are the only two I really remember.

Before coming here, I spent two simple hours of Italian class. I continue to confirm that it's one of the few moments when I can experience school a bit more calmly, simply because I find what we study interesting.

The teacher, who earlier made me a proposal beyond all limits, taught today's lesson in the same way as always; the only exception was that she occasionally came over to me, asking if everything was okay. She tried to do it in a way that no one would find strange, so as not to put me under a bundle of unwanted attention or questions, and, at least for now, it seems she succeeded.

I think my previous tears won her over. I don't know if I should feel guilty; after all, it's as if I had bribed her, as if I had made her come closer just by exploiting her empathy. I like having a connection with a teacher, but I also wouldn't want to end up in a situation where others could call me the teacher's favorite. And I'm not saying this because I would be embarrassed by the label itself, but simply because I know that everyone else wouldn't take it well and would start teasing me: so not embarrassment, but "pain."

Back to the point: the place I'm talking about is the girls' locker room. Yes, because now it's gym class, the subject in which I am hopeless at any activity: soccer, basketball, volleyball, tennis, badminton, and anything else that could be considered a sport. My coordination is so bad that I can't manage anything, and if, for example, a ball were at my feet, knowing myself, I'd probably hit it badly or miss it entirely, then fall like a log to the floor.

Of course, this has already happened, which is why I imagined this scenario. But don't underestimate me: when it comes to catastrophic scenarios involving me, I can create something that exceeds even the limits of pure madness. You might ask: why do you talk like this if these are your thoughts? You express them as if you were talking to someone. Um, I don't know, sometimes I like to express myself mentally as if I were actually communicating with someone. Wow, thinking about it, that would be amazing: if I could speak as I think, I could say so many things, so many that it would overwhelm the other person.

Ah, yes, um, going back... why am I unsettled in a completely female locker room? There are only girls here, ordinary people of my own gender who are changing to wear the sports version of our school uniform, which I would have preferred didn't exist if it means having to endure this feeling for who knows how many more days of my life.

I know, I'm digressing and not mentioning the real problem. Okay, so I'll say it: nothing concerning, I guess many people find themselves in the same situation as me. Well, one, two, three... it's embarrassing! It doesn't matter that we're all girls here, I still don't feel comfortable being half-naked in a room with so many other people, and this only adds to the fact that every possible — and by possible, I mean even just imagined in my head — gaze that lands on me puts me into total panic.

The same goes for others: I don't know if I'm comfortable watching all these people in their semi-dressed state, and I know it's practically the same as a swimsuit — essentially the same thing — but the texture is different, and that alone is enough to change everything. And besides... I don't exactly feel comfortable wearing a swimsuit at the beach either.

On top of that, there's another fundamental factor that contributes to my discomfort: my own body. I don't know, sometimes I think it's fine, other times I think it's not enough, and I don't know if this thought is strictly related to comparing myself to others, because yes, just looking around, you can find people with the so-called perfect body, which obviously corresponds to society's standard and not to someone's subjective perception. Although it's true that people are products of society, so it's very easy for them to accept this, furthermore, a person who might prefer something different from the standard — whether we're talking about any topic — risks being attacked and marginalized.

Body, physique: mention these words and suddenly you find yourself talking mainly about your own body weight. Humanity is obsessed with this single measure, tied to the discomfort or happiness of people.

People can be insecure about anything, even those who appear perfect can have worries about their bodies. Yet, not many people can see or accept it: those who "technically" don't fit the standard can't tolerate that such a person might complain, and instead feel insulted and belittled by the situation.

"You're perfect, why are you complaining?" Someone could say that; obviously not everyone, just some, and it would be accompanied by the desire to obtain that body, whether focusing on just the physique or the face. I'm only talking about these two aspects, not about the fact that an insecurity could also be something like the shape of your nose.

From here, a principle of envy can arise that can grow so much as to become a halo of cruelty: comments and remarks that could hurt the person considered perfect, just as such, because real perfection doesn't exist, right?

The same goes for a person who has a few extra pounds: just having a bit of a belly or a part of the body fuller than that slim ideal, and they are labeled fat, overweight, or as someone who needs to stop eating. Sometimes it only refers to junk food, other times... some people even push fasting comments, not realizing that this could be the start of a serious problem.

And then there are people who really, by some parameters, fall into the "overweight" category. Obviously there are different levels of it, from less to more, but people don't care: if they want to be mean, they will be.

I don't want to sound preachy. I'm just trying to understand something I don't know how works.

Let's say someone needs to lose weight for health reasons, not certified, just perceived by others: in that case, there would be two different comments, actually three.

One who gently encourages weight loss.
One who mocks it cruelly.
One who says they're perfect and don't need to worry.

Here lies a potential problem. What is perfection? And I know this word is only used to comfort, but what if that word were a tool of persuasion? What if, over time, everyone believed they were perfect? Yes, it would be a better world, because no one would fear their physical self, although mental self would still exist.

Here I arrive at another point: when a person loses weight or reaches their satisfaction level, they say they did it for themselves, not for anyone else, not for judgment, only for their own pleasure. I don't know if that's true. I can't think of a different way to evaluate myself than through other people's eyes, probably because they scare me.

A person who comes closer to the standard will begin to receive positive comments that will certainly make them happy and that, according to many, will make some things easier.

Pretty privilege, is that its name? Does it really exist? It's not up to me to say, but maybe... it's not so far from reality.

But can you obtain gratification only from yourself? Is it worth making a huge change just for our own self? Are we sure it's not just a belief?

"I didn't do it for others, only for me."

Yet that change was pushed by someone: the personal choice completed it, but there is always the touch of other humans in our will. We are not one, we are many, because our actions are only... a messy conglomerate.

If I were to talk about attraction to the other gender, and therefore about the body that might attract me, I think I would still like someone relatively slim, not muscular, just healthy. I'm too inexperienced in these things to reason properly: boys and I are two opposite worlds that I don't even know if will ever meet.

I realize that thinking this kind of thought, after all the mental discussion I've had, is wrong. At this moment, I could only define myself as a hypocrite.

All that remains is to talk about me, about my physical container. There are only two things that truly unsettle me about my body: I am aware from the start that I am not a beautiful girl and that I am in a limbo between decency and not, yet... I don't like how my body is developing, and being in puberty, I mean certain characteristics related to a particular part: my chest.

At this moment I can safely define myself as flat, meaning there's practically nothing there, except something tiny that must exist purely for anatomical reasons. I just need to look around to see the same characteristic in other girls, but unfortunately, theirs are bigger.

From what I know, I still have a few years before my body's growth stops, so there's still hope they will grow, and I want them to but I don't want them to. Over time I've understood that for some people they can be very uncomfortable, both for the back and for sleeping in certain positions, so maybe it's better to leave them as they are; actually no, it would be better to hope they grow, but not too much, just a little, enough to be visible.

Talking about my chest so much makes me seem weird? Better never talk about these things in public, or they might think I'm a pervert.

Finally, I have some doubts about my belly. I don't always feel bad about it; I mean, I have a body that can be considered slim, and I admit that makes me feel a bit protected from some things. I don't know why, but my mom pays quite a bit of attention to what I eat and my physical wellbeing; maybe to keep me healthy, maybe for appearance, or maybe she's fully aware that there are people around who are not kind at all. To be clear, she's not oppressive, she just reminds me of it from time to time.

So... back to the point, we've established that I don't have a flat stomach, that I'm not very sporty, and that I would hardly do anything to get one, since that would mean going to war with what I eat, with physical activity, and even with my own genetics.

My belly sticks out a bit, and I don't think it's only when I've eaten too much or am bloated for other reasons; yet it's not very noticeable when I wear clothes: if my clothes aren't tight, the shape of my belly isn't obvious, but otherwise, I think it would be noticeable. It doesn't stick out much, just a little.

Sometimes I'm a bit worried about this: if everyone basically labels me as slim and then sees my slightly protruding belly, they might say something, even ask if I've gained weight, especially because the only time it could be noticed is at the beach. Sometimes in those situations, I instinctively suck it in, just like an automatic reflex.

But then there are times when I don't hate it; I think it's normal and there's no reason to complain. Some people get annoyed when, while sitting, rolls form in the abdominal area, yet I don't mind: they're soft, and actually, touching your own belly in general could even be considered a kind of stress relief, obviously not in public.

In the end, I can say I have a sort of love-discomfort relationship with this part. Hmm, I don’t know.