An Unexceptional Blog

The concept of objective truth is one that permeates my relationship with my body, and, it seems,  strains it. An objective truth is a truth that can be understood and believed by everyone. Can something, anything, be true for everyone? What role does perception play in all this? When applying these thoughts to how I see my body, it makes me ask questions like: what does my body look like, objectively? What is its truest form? Which perception of it is the correct one? 

Let me, dear reader, present two scenarios, two truths. 

My body looks good in the bathroom mirror, in the candle light, when I’ve stepped out of a steamy bath. I stand in front of the mirror, and I take a conscious moment to commit to memory the awe I feel, the comfort, the peace. I am looking directly at parts of myself that on any other day I would avoid, and I look at them with tenderness, and love. On this day, I really, truly, do see a beautiful body in my reflection. I like the way this particular lighting and moment displays the softness and roundness of my shapes. So it is a truth; in this moment, my body is beautiful. 

But also, my body, this same body, looks entirely different, on another day, in another mirror, with different lighting, at another stage of my cycle, on an emotional low. What I see in that mirror is also the truth, is it not? The reflection cannot lie to me, can it? I begrudgingly look and see the mom bod, the sag, the double-chin, the thin lips, the tired eyes, the ponch. All of these flaws are real, they are a truthful representation of my body. On this day, I really, truly, don’t see the beauty that was there before.

So I ask again: which of these perception is the correct one? How can those two truths be equally true? What is the truth? 

Because of my type A personality and my OCD, I have been obsessed with knowing the truth, the objective and only truth, so that I can make sense of my world. When something is defined as a “thing,” it is that thing alone, and cannot be more than one thing. My OCD makes my mind inflexible this way: once data has been assigned a category, it is extremely difficult (ask my therapist) for me to reassign it. This type of rigidity in my brain has lead me to have difficulty seeing my body with any kind of objectivity. This is because it was decided, long ago, that my body was not beautiful. It was decided without me really having a choice in it: and so this solidified in my brain, and I’ve spent the better part of my adult life trying to undo this truth. Finding a replacement for this truth is what sent me on a quest for an objective truth about my body; replacing a flawed truth with the capital-T Truth felt like the right path. 

But perhaps, dear reader, I have been trying to fix this problematic relationship with my body the wrong way. I’ve been trying to replace a truth with another, when, I am beginning to think that, maybe, I am meant to hold more than one truth at the same time. 

All versions of my body are true. All perceptions of it are real.

My body is beautiful and my body is flawed. 

I am beginning to believe that I’ve been wasting a lot of my energy trying to understand my body from an outside/objective perspective, when I should have been focusing my gaze inwards. What does my body feel like, look like, to me? The fact that there are multiple truths to answer this question doesn’t invalidate each of them. The fact that the truth changes — with each stage of my cycle, with different lighting, with different emotions — doesn’t make this truth less valid. 

I am finding, dear reader, that thinking this way can be quite freeing. Yes, the truth I feel now is the truth today, and this makes it irrevocably valid. But, I am also aware that this truth will change, and I am aware of the existence of an equal and opposite truth as well. Knowing all this, suddenly, the quest for an objective truth becomes irrelevant. And, just as suddenly, a sobering question appears in the forefront of my mind: If I am looking for an objective perspective on my body, and objective truth, am I not making myself an object? 

I am in fact — I remind myself — a whole human being; I have a whole heart, a whole soul, an enormous gamut of emotions, and multiple years of experience living in this body. I am going to stop trying to find the capital-T Truth, and instead live the truth that I feel, every day. I don’t need to question my perception because it turns out that I am, quite literally, the only expert on how it feels to have this body, and what it feels like to be me.