Body Image: How to Get Over It

You can’t. Not ever fully.

Life is full of ups and downs when it comes to how we, as women, perceive ourselves.

The most bomb-looking girl has body image issues. Whether she divulges it or not.

And a lot of people won’t.

We keep our “problem” areas to ourselves. So we don’t look weak. Dumb. Low self-esteem. Whatever.

Photo: Lil Miss JB Style

I’m a body positive style blogger. If you look at my Instagram you’ll see my face beat, ensembles on point, and turbans wrapped to perfection.

To the naked eye, I look like I have it going on! Not one worry in my little world of fabulosity.

What people didn’t see was that a few days ago, I had a breakdown. And thought I was the ugliest thing to ever walk the earth.

Today, I’m back on track. A little.

But this week has been tough for my own body image. Self-esteem. Morale. Etc.

Next week will probably be much better, Insh’allah.

And this is OK!

Tulle Skirt: Society + (Purchase Here)

The problem with society is that they believe that girls, women should be confident, at the top of their games, and oh-so-perfect at all times.

Unrealistic.

We are hairy. We burp. We hate our bodies. We love our bodies. We cover them. Some of us don’t. We love. We shout. And some of us are more of a man than an actual man. LOL.

Body image is how we view ourselves regularly.

And sometimes, they can be totally extreme.

But I just want you to know that however you view yourself is OK.

You are allowed to just BE.

Photo: Lil Miss JB Style

I will leave you with one thing, because I’m feeling extremely 70’s hippy right now.

You are gorgeous. You’re smart. And you have a wonderful smile that illuminates even the darkest of nights.

I want you to find something you adore about yourself. Then say it out loud. At least three times. And mean it! Then I want you to find something you love about another girl and tell her, out loud!

XOXO

Leah V.

I Used To Get Bullied For Dressing Different

I’ve had a few interviews for different feminist and style blogs recently, and the question that I’m most asked is what it was like for me growing up, before Leah V. was Leah V.  

I grew up in the 90’s and early 2000’s, where nothing on my body was considered beautiful or desired. To add to that, I was Muslim and Black. And very much so fat. Triple whammy? So confidence was at an all-time low for the most part.

In my family, my mother was a pretty snazzy dresser and so was my grandmother. Even though they were large women, they still pulled out their sequins blazers, costume jewelry, and furs. My grandmother was into makeup as well. Bright red lips and blue eyeshadow was a must for any special occasion.

That’s when I fell in love, playing in her expensive lippies and shadows. I secretly painted my face, knowing my mother wouldn’t approve, and would make me wipe it off immediately.   

Makeup wasn’t in like that for young girls when I was growing up. No overly-contoured Kim K. looks.      The most we did was a heavy coating of cheap lip gloss from the beauty supply store and some mascara. Anything else was considered ‘clown face’.

I was a weird, thoughtful, and creative child. I watched a lot of movies, read a lot of books, and immersed myself into rock/pop music. Through these outlets, I began to internalize all the characters that I admired. They were sassy. They were strong. They didn’t take no shit! They were modern and stylish and outrageous. They were different just like me. And I imagined being anything I wanted.

And then it clicked… I was going to wear glitter on my eyelids, smear black lipstick on my lips, and place tiaras on top of my hijab.

Why? Because I was expressing myself and it made me happy.

Others didn’t feel the same way.

“Take that dark lipstick off your face,” Mom told me.

“Why black polish? Why not red?” Another asked.

“Why wear makeup, you already have such pretty skin,” someone commented.

“You look like a clown,” a family member said.

*Hella sighs*

I was obsessed with the Spice Girls, so I bought several pairs of those chunky flip flops. I was into Gwen Stefani from No Doubt and started wearing black nail polish and fingerless lace gloves. Then I went through the goth phase. Everything was pitch black.

I got made fun of for dressing crazy, wearing makeup, being outspoken, being fat, having big feet, pointy teeth, wearing colorful hijabs, covering my body… Blah, blah.    

The funny thing about it, I never allowed other people’s criticisms to stop me from dressing the way I wanted or affected how I carried myself. Because it was my body and I loved the expression that makeup and clothes could prompt. I wasn’t the same as the other girls, and that was fine with me.

It’s ironic, because now, I’m the trendsetter and style blogger. People ask my fat, Black Muslim self where do I get my clothes from. They ask me for fashion advice.

Although, it’s a sad thought to think what would’ve happened if I listened to those friends who made fun of my appearance and ensembles.

I wouldn’t be Leah V. I’d be some cardboard cutout. Exactly the same as the rest. Just falling in that straight and narrow line of lameness…

Beyonce said it best: “Tell him boy, bye!”  

Keep being your crazy, odd dressing, thin or plump self. Don’t let others dictate how you should or shouldn’t dress. Or that you need or don’t need makeup. Tell them it’s YOUR BODY and you can do with it as you please!

xoxo

Leah V.   

Editor's Note: A Photo Doesn't Capture Our True Struggles

My blog has always--and will always--be a 'body inclusive" blog. I don't discriminate. And nor should you. All bodies are amazing bodies. Idgaf who says otherwise. But I want to talk to my big girls (and guys) for a hot second.

Over the weekend, I posted this photo. Check out the caption. Extra. I know. Lol.

@Lvernon2000

I'm getting old. I'm going through some shit in life. OK. So I saw this photo in my archives. It was an awesome moment. A moment of carefreeness. When in reality, at that very moment that I posted it, I felt like the ugliest person on the planet. I didn't feel like getting out the bed, seeing anyone's face, or 'talking' about the issues at hand. So, I took it to Instagram. I decided that maybe all the angst I had built up could be channeled into something more positive and helpful to the world. The picture ended up going semi-viral. I got tons of shares, likes (more than I ever had before), and lots and lots of positive comments.

Nope. No fat-shaming occurred...yet. LOL.

A lot of the comments were from women from all around the world praising me for doing something that I find easy and take for granted. But they didn't know that I was in bed feeling so eh! In retrospect, I find it incredibly simple to find clothes that fit, grab a photographer, beat my face, and pose. Even on my bad days. I find it easy to post my pictures, use all the right hashtags, and create a bomb caption. It's nuffin!

The eye opening comment was from a woman who basically said that in her country if you were bigger there weren't any clothes that fit, let alone did large women ever consider modeling.

*Jaw Drop*

And there I was in bed sulking. I was taken aback by her words. And all the other comments of women (of all sizes) just reaching out and telling me that I gave them a little hope and confidence to get out there and try something new. Even if I felt like crap, I was perked up by the love and support. They even trusted me enough to share their stories. A strange blogger from Detroit.  

A lot of us take for granted the small things, the things we think are easy for us. To someone, confidence isn't an issue. Yet half way across the world (or right next door) is someone struggling to hold their head up and look at themselves in the mirror. We never know what someone is feeling by what they post on the internet or, even, from what they say. Sometimes, the pain is buried so deep that it's hard to express.

What I'm saying is that we have to do better by one another. Stop judging a book by it's cover. Because that's not always accurate. It doesn't matter where we come from or what we look like. This isn't a popularity contest or whose the best looking or whose got more followers. This is real life. What we say, how we treat others, and what we type matters. And someone else is looking and searching for that someone who's going to bring them back up. The feeling of helping someone else, inspiring someone else, is enough pleasure for me. And, frankly, they got me out of my funk. When I read those comments, it's like wow, they really did that. And I got to put a little sparkle in their eyes, too. We kinda helped each other without even knowing it. This is where my enjoyment from blogging and social media comes from: The people. The interaction and sharing of information.

I really want to encourage you to inspire someone else--in person or through social media. However you do it, I don't care. Just do it! But the goal for this week is to uplift someone. Because you never know who needs it.

xoxo

Leah V.