Embracing the Imperfect Self: A Journey Through Body Dysmorphia

@hannahbatchelorphotos

I will not let that little voice stop me 

From feeling the sun on my skin

I will not let that little voice stop me

From swimming in the ocean

I will not let that little voice stop me

From diving deep into my passion

I will not let that little voice stop me

From living my fullest expression

Because I look at others

And they look at me

Do we see each other's insecurities?

It’s my choice to feel stressed or blessed

Because the only one who truly cares

Is that little voice inside my own head

I just returned from a photoshoot that I actually enjoyed. This morning, I woke up, did my makeup, stretched with some yoga, and grabbed some weights to make sure I had a good pump for the camera. Ten pounds of muscle? Yes, please! I was genuinely excited. But even though I’ve always felt drawn to the spotlight, I’ve had a complicated relationship with the camera. Since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to be the center of attention, but after years of trying to capture the “perfect” angle, I still can’t seem to find a positive reflection of myself through the lens.

When I was 13, it felt like my body changed overnight. I developed hips, a chest, a belly, everything. At the same time, I gained access to the internet, right at the end of the Tumblr emo movement, where eating disorders were often glorified. I watched the girls at school get skinnier, more feminine, and obsessed with their image. I was raised in the arts, spending countless hours in dance classes, where I spent more time in front of the mirror than I care to admit, critiquing my lines. Dance always felt good, but then came the pressure to meet unrealistic standards, and after what felt like a short futile struggle, I gave up. I never lost my love for dancing, but I found myself out of place in such a high-pressure industry.

I’ve always been a foodie. Growing up vegetarian, it took me longer than most to understand how food impacts our bodies. My dad used to joke about my love for “yellow food” (potatoes, pasta, bread, pastries), but I ate well, just not always with the right balance. As a teenager, I bounced between various diets, oscillating between caring about my image for a job opportunity or a photo and fully immersing myself in the joy food brings. Over time, the insecurities I’ve struggled with have resurfaced, especially as I’ve ventured deeper into content creation. I obsess over every little detail: the way my mouth moves, how my right eye is slightly bigger than my left, the constantly changing shape of my waist. I even criticize my body for being broader and wider than the “standard” active person my age.

When I look in the mirror, I feel good about myself. When I work out, I feel strong. But the moment the camera is on me, my self-image distorts. I don’t even recognize the face staring back at me. How do I embrace my feminine body with broad shoulders, my masculine face with full cheeks, and almond-shaped eyes that never seem perfectly symmetrical?

I often struggle with dressing myself, unsure how to adorn a body my mind can’t fully comprehend. I know I’m not alone in this. I’ve tried to care less about my appearance, but then the call to the spotlight comes, and suddenly the pressure returns, louder than ever.

One night, I went out with a friend. After hours of dancing in my jeans and leather jacket, we stepped outside for a breath of fresh air. We struck up a conversation with a group of strangers, and one of them asked what I did for a living. When I told him I was a fitness instructor and personal trainer, he replied, “You don’t look like one.”

That comment has stayed with me ever since. At the time, I was teaching six-hour classes every day, pushing my limits, but I was burnt out. Despite being muscular, I couldn’t shed those last few pounds. Stress, inflammation, and diet missteps made it nearly impossible. Since then, I’ve distanced myself from that career, partly due to my insecurities, struggling to embrace who I am while constantly battling the desire to look and feel healthier.

Throughout my life, there have been many moments where my body, figure, and weight have impacted my career journey. My body and I often feel out of sync, and every day, I search for where I truly fit. I long for a sense of context and belonging, a career and lifestyle that recognizes and honors my unique qualities, so I can finally feel safe, fulfilled, and whole.

Something I’m finally coming to terms with is the realization that I don’t need to have everything figured out right now. The distorted vision I hold of myself, shaped by unrealistic standards and comparison, has clouded my perception of my own worth. The joys of being a woman—my strength, my femininity, my natural curves—are not something to apologize for. I have a wealth of knowledge regarding health and fitness, and that is not diminished by the belief that my body isn’t “fit” or “healthy” by society’s standards. In reality, I am healthy in many ways, and my body is more Amazonian than petite. Even though there’s a voice inside me that longs for a place where my Self is enough, I’m learning to embrace the present.

Each day, I do my best to care for myself and make choices for my body as if she were my child. I don’t always get it right, but oh, how I try.

I’m also coming to terms with the fact that my body is womanly. It’s highly unlikely I’ll ever look like the athletic teenage boy I used to imagine for myself. I sacrifice a perfectly flat stomach to enjoy my favorite foods, and the joy and memories I create from shared meals with loved ones will always outweigh the desire for a washboard abs.

I’m learning to embody the truth that health isn’t about being skinny or looking a certain way. It’s about how you feel—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I want to feel strong, present, healthy, and good. I will likely always struggle with my relationship to the camera and media, but I take solace in the fact that with every double chin comes an enthusiastic smile, with every bloated belly comes a delicious meal, with every flared nostril comes a deep breath, and with every picture comes a meaningful memory.

My desire is to feel good. And whether through compliments or criticisms, no one else can cultivate that feeling for me. It is something I am learning to embody, despite the expectations of the outside world. It’s essential that I listen to the inner voice that cares for me, not the one that keeps me stuck in the endless loop of never feeling good enough.

To anyone else on their journey to self-acceptance, love, and health, I encourage you to seek out systems and practices that allow you to thrive. Find small ways to thank your body for everything she has helped you endure. She gives you strong legs to walk, a voice to share your passion, senses to experience magic, and eyes to see the beauty in the world. Embrace her. She is your home.

Sending love,

Dani x