March and April of last year passed in a blur of anxiety and obsession, as I read scientific articles and tried to understand what was happening. My chronic pain reached a peak of intensity since I was no longer walking a mile or two each day. I’d been laid off and had no idea what I was doing with my life.
And yet, something beautiful was starting to happen. After years of working through disordered eating, body dysmorphia, and other struggles with self-image, a subtle but fundamental internal shift took place. I realized that until then, I’d always felt as though my body was on display—even as a home-schooled kid, I was hyper-aware of how I was seen in public places. Suddenly, there weren’t any public places. On Zoom, I had full control over which parts of my body were seen; I could even turn off the camera completely. All my life, I’d been controlling for all the angles I might be seen from and judgments that strangers might project on me. It went beyond internalizing the male gaze (although I’m sure that’s a part of it). I didn’t even know this part of my brain existed until, seemingly overnight, it turned off.
I was experiencing a new level of comfort in my own skin. My body image skyrocketed. Forget body neutrality—my body was awesome. This kind of love was new to me. It was as though I’d been carrying the weight of countless…
