Body image

Since moving to Sheffield I have met up with a lovely group of young talented musicians, mostly thanks to friendships forged with my youngest son when he moved here. One of them, the lovely and very talented Fran, has set up a Facebook group, inspired by Movember and Dry January, called MAY, I Love My Body. She has invited friends to share and contribute positive messages and thoughts about self image and body awareness. She started sharing with a wonderful song by India Arie. 'Sometimes I shave my legs, sometimes I don't'. What a great line. The song continues to be such a positive and uplifting message about being yourself, not always easy in any circumstances, but especially tricky in the music business. I thought I'd enjoy the posts over the month of May, but wasn't sure about contributing. At the age of 62, I have seen fashions come and go. Not just fashions in clothes and dress, but fashions in looks, body shape, hair type, facial features - you name it. I thought I had reached a point where I truly believe that anything goes, that there are many ways to express yourself, to look good and that as an individual you can take confidence from that. Comparisons don't work. The phrase 'Comparisons are odious' was first recorded in use in the 15th century. Van Morrison wrote the line 'All the girls walk by dressed up for each other' in his song 'Wild Night'. Of course it isn't only girls who judge themselves against their contemporaries. I find the vogue for plastic surgery horrifying, as much because of my fear of needles, stitches and hospitals. I watched the TV adaptation of Fay Weldon's Life and Loves of a She Devil and it had a lasting effect. I also grew up in the sixties when an apparently effortless natural look was chic. Think Jean Shrimpton and Julie Christie. So Fran got me thinking. I've been lucky. My weight doesn't change much. I feel healthy and eat well. It's easy for me to find fashionable clothes and small sizes often end up in charity shops too. My hair grows and I have never had to colour it. It's turning silver rather than gold, but it's an easy look to maintain. My teeth are my own. My toe nails aren't so good but a bit of polish sorts that in the summer. However I am aware that it could have gone another way. Boarding school created some strange eating habits. I hated the school food, especially as I disliked meat. I lived on cereal, cakes and biscuits. There was a tuck shop and we could buy extras, so I think most of my friends could eat a whole cake or a whole packet of biscuits at a sitting. In the late 60s I had never heard of anorexia or bulimia but that didn't mean it didn't exist. Looking back on schooldays I can identify friends who suffered from one or the other - or both. I was Twiggy style and could eat as much sweet stuff as I wanted. I probably weighed about 7 stone. But I do remember a skinnier friend's brother describing me as 'stocky'.Luckily I didn't take it too seriously, though the fact that I remember it all these years later means it struck home. His sylph like sister did go on to be a photographic model in those stick thin days. Noone ever told me I was nice looking or pretty or anything like that through my teens. My parents were on the other side of the world and I don't think it occurred to them that my sisters and I might need a bit of encouragement. As I get older I also realise that my mother had (and still has!) her own issues around ageing, weight and image. Some of my friends were encouraging and kind but I never really got it about looks. Being brought up by nuns didn't help either. Vanity was considered a sin. So I find myself at an age when I can accept who I am and what I look like without any worries . I sometimes look at photos of myself when I was younger and regret that I didn't know what I had back then. It would have been nice to have been proud occasionally! So to those of you reading this as part of MAY, I Love My Body, just do it.