Thanks to a photo shoot that I did three weekends ago weight has been on my mind lately.
A few days before the shoot I started to feel dread. It started as I was putting together a list of pictures I wanted to get for my website and other publicity. As I thought about the poses, angles, and what I would wear, it dawned on me that a January photo shoot means capturing on film my lovely holiday pounds and pale and washed out skin that currently rivals the grey skies above.
This is not my first rodeo when it comes to struggles with body image. I’ve been wrestling this beast my whole life. I thought this time I would be able to acknowledge these old unhelpful stories and keep leaning in with courage and new stories. I’ve learned enough from yoga practice to be able to give myself a compassionate talk about loving myself as I am. I could look to yogis like Bo Forbes and Jessamyn Stanley for affirmations of body positivity and refusal to succumb to our image obsessed culture--and yoga culture in particular. This would be another practice in “as I am” moments because I am more mature and at peace with myself now.
And then I saw the first shots. The shame hit me like a broken fire hydrant. Those fat arms! Those hips and thighs! I can’t let people see me like this (yes, I know they see me like this every day but shame is crazy like that). I plowed through the photo shoot with as much grace and poise as I could muster but I could feel myself withdrawing and wanting to hide. For days after that shoot, I got on my mat for practice and there were lots of tears.
I talked to my own yoga therapist about it who helped me recognize that I was holding myself to standards of perfection that keep me from truly letting go of my belief that I'm not good enough (or in this case, not thin enough which equals not good enough). Even counseling myself about being strong enough to let go of old stories has sneaky tones of perfectionism in it. It’s great that yoga helped me learn how to recognize my patterns and practice shifting them. However, I need to be mindful that my ingrained perfectionism doesn’t keep me from feeling all the feels first before I start labeling them helpful or unhelpful and burying the unhelpful ones rather than feeling them and letting them make their way through and out of me.
I thought I had worked hard to peel those layers off and shed them, and yet, in an instant, I felt such sorrow and judgment. It’s deeper and heavier than I let myself believe. I see more clearly than I ever have how much I have hidden parts of myself away in pursuit of presenting the perfect model of myself. I see how heavy these masks are and how this secret about my “ugliness” feels. I had peeled some layers away but still kept this pared down version of myself front and center for the world to see.
I also realized I was sad because I was so hidden even to myself. I’ve embodied the belief that I need to hide parts of myself so much that it’s hard to tease out all the places and times that I do it. It’s not just about weight either. I am noticing a default assumption that I’m supposed to know everything and have it all figured out and if I don’t then I either pretend I do (while silently freaking out that they will figure out I’m a fraud) or I clam up. I have such ingrained worries and expectations about being perfect that I hold back when I meet people. It makes me tongue-tied. Even when choose to be more myself as I teach, I have sensations of being naked and exposed.
In other words, that damn photo shoot helped me uncover a new sense of wholeness. My secrets and hiding are part of me too. Just gaining that awareness—and not trying to change anything about me—is lightening the weight of the secret and the restraints of hiding it. It feels sad and vulnerable but it also feels like a door opening.
This newfound awareness of how I hide myself even from myself is raw. I feel sorrow but it is grounding in a way. I feel something new in the pit of my gut. There is a tightness in my shoulder girdle and around my neck that is loosening.
I even realized how I move my body in response to what I want to hide. My gait reflects that sense of lugging the curvier parts of myself around. When I recognized that and shifted my awareness as I walked from my feet and legs to my hips, my whole gait shifted and my drop foot has essentially disappeared.
This has already changed me. I feel less afraid. Students and clients have already noticed out loud that it seems like I’m “coming into my own.” I might retreat again sometimes, but I’m a whole human being who is practicing taking up more space. Just like you are.
Does my story resonate with you? What do you think your perfectionism is helping you hide? If it does resonate and you’d like to learn some tools of self-discovery and support in leaning in let’s talk. Sign up for a free 20-minute phone consultation at yogagracevt.com/hire-us.
