The Body Journey: Tailoring Life to Fit Me
Two decades of thought about the body
Last year, I organised nearly 20 years worth of blogposts into more easily navigable categories. I found a lot of writing exploring sexuality, body shame and a few on health. I considered placing these under ‘Home & Identity’ (itself an amalgamation of several categories) since our bodies are our homes throughout our lives. But I thought it might be an opportunity for me to face yet another hurdle within myself.
Fifteen years ago, when I first started writing a novel, I struggled with writing a kissing scene between two characters. It felt wrong, intrusive, like I was looking in someone’s private moment. Never mind that these were fictional beings, creations of my own mind. I realised I was facing my own internalised body shame. So I decided to explore erotica in a bid to overcome that. That was probably the first time I actively decided to build a relationship with the body. It’s been a long journey starting as IdeaSmith, a genderless, formless being online.
Of course the ‘Body & Sex’ category that I finally decided on has become the most searched one leading to my blog. I might dismiss that shrugging off the general sleaziness of the internet. But, like I decided when I embarked on my erotica journey, nothing is shameful, nothing is to be shut away to my mind. Sex interests us all. Or does it? I know most of the searches that lead to this section of my blog are probably looking for something else. Sex as an escape. What a strange thing to seek reprieve in the body when the body is what many people seek to escape!
Turning the 40 corner
I turned 40 during the pandemic. The combination of these two occuring together has brought me a whole new awareness of the body, my body. Its fragility but also its undiscovered talents, its admirable resilience and its utter unpredictability. In the past year, as I’ve faced mental illness and its treatment, I’ve found myself charting the paths of life decisions & events. The body does keep score. It has been surprisingly possible to connect specific occurances to my body’s abliities and breakdowns.
It was an eye-opener for me to realise that having a lot of allergies meant I actually had a robust defense system, too overeager if anything. What can be a better cue to feel safe? The body that houses me is well-prepared against attack. It also ties in to early traumas and allows me to say, this is not a threat anymore, you/I can relax. This has been suprisingly effective.
I’m not suggesting a woo-woo, talk to your body and ignore all medication routine. I have been doing jalneti for four years now. It has cleared out my sinuses and they do say that phlegm represents the pain-body. I’m regularly letting it pass out of my system now. That has to be helpful in keeping my insides relaxed and less in a state of hurt.
COVID was a surprise. A dear person a decade younger than me passed away and not even specifically of COVID. Another dear person in their 90s went to the brink of death in the ICU and returned, after we had said our goodbyes. Both my parents caught COVID’s most infectious variant at the time and despite being exposed to them for days, I didn’t catch it. But I did pick it up in the two hours I spent delivering a lecture in college. Do my body’s defenses go up or down in specific situations and company? That would make sense. Nobody knows but that’s okay. I live in my body; it only matters how I think of it.
The gifts of weight gain
I’ve been gaining weight in the last few months. The doctors tell me there’s no need to worry; that I’ve been underweight my whole life and I’m finally in the correct range. But also, they say, don’t put on any more weight and you’ll be good. The thing is, I don’t know how I gained this weight all of a sudden in the first place, how do I ensure I don’t continue to do so? There aren’t clear answers. It tells me doctors don’t know everything.
It also tells me that doctors, like most professionals are trained to identify and solve problems. They don’t necessarily know how to maintain the state of no problems, of equilibrium. Don’t we all go through life seeking out problems to solve so we can prove…something? How about if we instead recognised that equilibrium is an equally valid state? Maybe that’s what they’re trying to tell me. Relax and enjoy being in the right body for now.
It has been a whole other ballgame figuring out clothes though. I always thought I was lucky I fit the media body standards. And that having sleeves and pant legs being too short was a problem of my body – too long limbs. But I’ve just realised I’ve been wearing the wrong bra size my whole life and that’s not a measure that changes that easily. Moving up a size opened up my mind to the idea that I could just as well do that for everything else I wore.
And for the first time in my life, my skin doesn’t have elastic marks or deep impressions of a waist button. I don’t have the dreaded ‘muffin top’ simply because I’m not stuffing my body into a Small or even a Medium. I can lift my arms without worrying my armhole will rip. And I don’t think of terms like ‘bye-bye arms’ (when arm fat jiggles when you wave bye) when I wear sleeveless tops anymore. I’m not constantly at war with buttonholes that gape, seams that strain, ankles that are exposed, all for a scrap of validation.
Beauty is comfort, not pain
A new wardrobe has been a chance to let my breath out, literally and figuratively as I allow my most comfortable self out. I let out the stitches on old, much loved clothes. I put away clothes that don’t fit me that I realised I never really like that much (just that they were expensive and got me compliments). And I did shop but in stores I usually wouldn’t have.
Decathlon was another experience. I never thought of myself as sporty. Because of my near-asthamatic allergies as a child, I didn’t get into sports and until swimming happened, I had internalised the message of being too weak for ‘real sports’. In the later years, the sports association diverged from associations of femininity.
I had struggled with body shaming and misogyny for so long, I think I just took an easy way out when it came to dressing as an adult. Flowy garments, fitted cuts, non-breathable fabrics – these are fashionable. And I’ve been innundated with compliments and affirmations on how I have the perfect body for them so I ‘should’ be wearing only these. Oh well, I’m now proud owner of water-shielding trousers that have zippered pockets, need no ironing, dry easily and can manage everything from treks to Mumbai monsoons – in a larger size than I’ve ever worn before. And denim, my favorite material has its rightful place in my 90s grunge rocker cupboard again.
Footwear – another thing that really impacts my mood. Discomfort where I meet ground is a horrible foundation to exist on. What a relief to finally find sensible shoes in my size (even if I do have to shop in the men’s section for them). Speaking of, the menswear section has clothes that are tailored better, of superior fabric and are cheaper. But of course. I would have assumed money has no gender. But because Indian men value gender rules more than commissions, online shopping gives me a way out. I’m sitting happy in my cotton shirts whose sleeves reach my wrist for the first time and whose buttonholes don’t gape. This is not men’s clothing. It is my clothing.
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
I even like how I look. It’s how I’ve looked to myself inside my head my whole life. More androgynous, ready for anything active, practical, comfortable, light. I was the tomboy girl in college, wearing combat boots, dad’s old teeshirts and jeans. That look is very in now but these were the 90s when ‘real girls’ floated about in wispy tops, skintight pants and wore their hair long, rebonded and loose.
I even got a haircut! I’ve had short hair multiple times in my life and really, that’s what I like best. So what if my hair is the kind of silky that passes popularity contests when worn straight and loose? It’s not comfortable and it’s harder to maintain that way. But in my almost boyish-crop, I suddenly feel like I’m living in my body. Not on rent.
I know I am not really androgynous, I just feel that way. Several years ago, a gay man hugged me and then pulled back really surprised.
“You have boobs? I always thought of you as flat-chested!”
It made me glow. So my camouflage had been successful. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with having breasts. I just don’t enjoy their undue sexualisation.
Is beauty a privilege?
Maybe because I’m on this journey, I’ve been considering all the areas I’ve met shame. Privilege is an area that’s fraught with it. I’ve never faced fat-shaming. But I’m melanin-rich. In my culture, I’ll never be considered truly beautiful. A few years ago, I saw a Facebook post making a ‘joke’ that said, “Men prefer curves anyway.” I asked the person who posted why a man’s opinion was so important. It’s the same token by which I deal with the daily dark-shaming.
It occurred to me that the concept of ‘pretty privilige’ is misogynist. The idea that a woman should feel lucky or guilty for being objectified while other women are dismissed is victim-shaming. Being objectified is not powerful; it diminishes a person. Predatory attention is not a reward—it’s gunfire.
And it’s not about ‘letting yourself go’. I genuinely enjoy caring for my body and vanity is a part of that. After the 2020 lockdown, my first purchase was an epilator. Going through a life-threatening pandemic gives you perspective. Was this frivolous? Yes, certainly. And so what? I put up an Instagram story asking my community what they thought about my getting an epilator.
One of the responses was vehement and angry – PLEASE STOP SHAMING WOMEN FOR HAVING HAIR! I reeled by its force. I was not shaming anyone. Hair removal may not seem feminist to some but it’s a choice I’m making about my body. Isn’t feminism about choice and isn’t it also about refusing to let my body be politicised? I like how my body feels after I use an epilator. It’s a luxury, not a need. And I’m okay with that.
![AI Ramya image](https://i0.wp.com/ramyapandyan.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/8.jpg?resize=250%2C250&ssl=1)
I tried an AI tool to see what it would do to my features. Thankfully, it didn’t whiten my skin color, but it did align my teeth, erasing the years of rabbit teeth shaming, dental work, and the triumphant healed war wounds of my lopsided smile. It also gave me mascara, a product I loathe, and possibly a nose job.
But I’ve learned to love my distinctive nose. I don’t know if I’d feel the same way were I 23 in this time. But I really enjoy my face, body and skin the way they are much more than what AI and filters do. There’s a startling homogeinty in their results that takes away my entire journey that is told on my body.
⬅ This is not me.
(and neither is the header image generated using Artbreeder)
Burning down shame barriers
Last month, I had a kitchen accident and ended up sustaining a bad burn on my thighs. I didn’t even pay attention to it till I was taking a shower later and my skin looked like bhajia. My parents were so alarmed when they saw it that they rushed me off to the doctor. I still protested that it wasn’t visible so it didn’t matter because I had more important things to do (like work). I’m glad they forced me to get medical attention though. Even the doctor was shocked by the extent of the burns. And for weeks later, I had to do an elaborate dressing on the wound.
The upper thighs aren’t usually visible parts of the body. But they are fleshy and have delicate skin. They’re also uncomfortably close to a lot of fabric as well as heat-trapped areas. I even had wounds from the medical tape used for the wound dressing. And it made it incredibly hard to sit and awkward to walk around in. This is really the first time I’ve been aware of my lack of thigh gap and the only time it hurt. Literally.
But as the wound began to heal, I was fascinated by how the tender pink flesh emerged under the charred brown skin. And how over time it became the softest, smoothest part of my body because it was the newest. Skin didn’t exactly grow over. The flesh just got less tender and became skin. I still have the scar and you know what? I’m glad I do. It’s a daily reminder to not take fire for granted. Or my body.
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And I’ve adapted my body language over time. This burn recovery made me have to sit with my legs apart for a month – a pose that is actually more comfortable but which I was shamed out of, before I even hit puberty. Girls don’t sit like that, I was told, like a slut. Yet, manspreading continues to occupy public spaces far more than my very existence.
When wearing traditionally feminine garb, I keep my feet together but with one slightly in front for balance. In gender-neutral clothing, I stand with my feet apart. It’s actually a more stable position for me. Understanding how to dress my body for comfort makes me more at ease while walking, standing, even sitting. It’s great for physical and mental health.
This body is home
Tehmina and I were speaking today about places that feel like home. She said,
“I am a misfit everywhere which also means I kind of fit in everywhere but nowhere very closely.”
But that also describes me, having lived in one country, a single city made of tiny islands, my whole life. So I replied,
“I wonder sometimes if anybody ever actually fits anywhere closely. I think most people are just pretending that places fit them like well tailored clothing. But most people can’t afford to have lives tailored for them so everyone is kind of suffocated in places and sagging at others.”
Shouldn’t our lives be tailored to us rather than our bodies be tailored to the world? In all this, the big revelation is that capitalism doesn’t care about our humanity. My whole life I’ve been wearing clothes too small to be comfortable. Clothes marked M or L fit me best. And I pass for one of the thinnest people in my circles (even with the weight gain). What do these measurements even mean then? And how ever can I rely on them to explain my body, let alone my relationship with what I call home?
~O~O~O~O~O~O~
This week I met my doctor. In conversation about my weight gain, he remarked that I looked much better, happier. And, he said,
“Sometimes when you’re happier, it fills out in your body.”
I definitely sit easier in my skin now that I’ve welcomed the visitors of happiness and healing.
“Body” means so many different things to do many people, and I really love how this blogpost explores just about every aspect of that. Whether it’s in terms of what it means to navigate a medical/hospital space, body image, sexuality, insecurities, you name it. There is so much one has to navigate – skin colour, size, health issues, the way one’s body is or isn’t allowed to move in a space. I think this one is an essay I’ll keep revisiting.
@Anu: Our bodies are lifelong journeys, aren’t they?
What a great post. Our bodies truly are the one place we can’t leave, and making it into someplace you want to be seems essential to a happy life.
@Topher: Thank you for understanding, my dear friend.