There is nothing more horrifying than looking back at old photos of myself.  At least, this is true in my own experience.  When it comes to my body and my relationship with it, the time period between ages 6 and 28 are “The Dark Ages.”  And while most people go through an awkward stage during the pre-teen years, mine lasted far longer than that (for me this conjures up memories of white eyeliner, butterfly hair clips, and bandannas up through age 16). **sigh**

On a personal level, it is often difficult to re-live those moments in photographs.  Sure, at the time I thought I was the epitome of style.  But now it’s an embarrassing reminder of just how round my face was, how chubby I looked in the outfits I chose, and how unrefined I seemed to be.  But when I take a step back and look at this situation as a whole, I realize that – in short – I looked like a kid.  There was nothing wrong with how I dressed or looked, and back then I was none the wiser.  I was a child enjoying life and meeting new people without the reservations that years of self-critique can bring on.  So why do I see an old photograph and automatically apply today’s beauty standards to it?  In the photo I am at an age when such things did not matter.  My child-mind still had the innocent belief that I could offer the world what was inside of me, because that held more worth than the way I looked.  And while that is a beautiful thought, over time I’ve learned that body image issues plague all aspects of my life, regardless of when they started.  They have the power to move retroactively.  But by recognizing this, maybe we can take some steps to avoid it.

Looking at an old photo of myself and seeing the event happening in it has become a main focus for me.  For example, I may come across a photo of myself at my birthday party when I was 9 years old.  My first thought when looking at this is how heavy I looked, how intently I am staring at the cake, how my body resembled a potato more than it resembled a woman’s.  Immediately the heavy pit forms in my stomach and I look away from the photo.  The self-consciousness is overwhelming, and all I can think about is what people think when they see that photo.  Over the last 5 years this scenario would stop right there.  I would walk away, feeling more defeated than before and admonishing myself for letting my weight get out of control.  Seeing myself as a chubby child just reminds me that I’m a chubby adult.

‘How could you do this to yourself…again?!  You’ve had so much time to fix this.  Why do you keep failing?’

I am almost certain that this same thing has happened to the vast majority of people I know.  But…what if we stop doing this?  I know, it’s a crazy thought.  But just roll with me on this…

I take that photograph from the birthday party out and look at it again, but this time I look at what’s around me in the image.  My best friend when I was 9 might be sitting to my left.  The cake that I was staring at might have a beautiful birthday wish on it from my mother.  The table around me might be full of friends and family who had gathered there for no other reason than to celebrate me.  Let me say that again … to celebrate ME.  The person I have learned to dismiss the most.  The person I have criticized and scolded and discouraged.  This is not a photograph that captured my frustration and depression because I felt ugly (because at the time, I didn’t).  This is a photograph that captured a moment in my life, surrounded by love and well-wishes.  We need to begin calling things what they are.  I was a child, this was my birthday party, and it was a celebration marking another year of experience and growth under my belt.  Applying any other conclusions to it would be a disservice to me now, and to the little girl in that photo.

I’m sure it will continue to be difficult looking at photos of myself, but the more I work on seeing the picture as a whole the easier and more fun it will become.  I am teaching myself to embrace the past because the girl in the pictures turned into the woman writing these words, and that means something.  I was a work in progress, growing and learning and becoming a whole person, just like I am today.