Photoshop and other editing software can actually help a person deal with body dysmorphia disorder or distorted thoughts about self. Hear me out.
I used to work as a primary therapist at facilities for women with eating disorders. Glossy fashion mags—where celebs are heavily Photoshopped—were considered contraband and taken away if found. This would leave the client annoyed and feeling ashamed for “idolizing the industry influencing her disease” and what not. I understood the good intentions but never fully bought into it. To me, this was such a paradoxical lesson we were teaching. Eating disorder therapists, medical doctors, loved ones, body-shaming vigilantes, and anyone who decides to speak on behalf of women dealing with hating their bodies should support and appreciate all forms.
Some of the women I used to work with did compare themselves to images in the illegal print they’d hide under their beds, but It is natural and healthy to strive to become our best or admire others who appear to have what we want. The part where it gets tricky is when these desires become unrealistic and overcome a person, sabotaging any initial good ideas. That, combined with a predisposed genetic makeup for mental illness, can lead to a deadly eating disorder acting as a poor coping skill. I’m talking about self-hatred combined with any one of the bullshit manifestations that can occur: Anorexia, binge-eating disorder (BED), bulimia, feeding or eating disorders not elsewhere classified (OSFED), body dysmorphic disorder, you pick. They all suck and are devastating when they transform what used to be a person’s innocent aspirations into a full-blown medical disease. These things can happen whether you’re looking at manipulated images of beautiful men and women or not; though it would be a hell of a lot easier treating patients if it were those glossy photos that caused eating disorders.
My sister died of complications from alcoholism and anorexia when her heart gave out May 22, 2002. (You can read more about this here.) I have also had my unfair share of anorexia, bulimia, binge-eating, and what-the-hell-would-you-call-this? I’ve weighed anywhere from a gaunt 100 pounds to a plus-size 170 pounds as an adult. I joked with my therapist that I was a fat anorexic and a lazy bulimic because I never got thin enough. I always dismissed my health issues because my eating disorders never landed me in the hospital or seemed as severe as my sister’s or the clients I used to work with. But I was playing Russian roulette, and at the ripe age of 35-something, I am tired. I’m exhausted at weighing myself first thing in the morning, counting every single calorie, over exercising, obsessing about grocery lists and meal plans, berating myself every time my clothes feel too tight, pretending to be OK when I want to hurt myself, feeling so uncomfortable in my body that I want to either shrink and hide or scream at the top of my lungs! I’m humbled when I think of all the things I’ve missed out on because of my eating disorders. But although I’m worn out, I’m not depleted. I’ll never let my messed up interpretations of myself—and what those turn into—prevail.
I’ve recently gained weight and at times it’s almost unbearable. Desperate, impulsive thoughts of needing to do something to compensate for my “lack of willpower” or “disgusting behavior” pulls hard at me to repeat nasty habits. One of my tricks to avoid going there is gratitude. I look at old and recent pics where I look pretty good, if I do say so myself. Blushed-face and wide-eyed, I’ll admit that sometimes I take selfies and filter the F out of them. It’s fun. And it’s still me. I don’t post many of them, but I admire me. Behind that mask, that clouded technological screen, I’m still that little girl who is dreaming of becoming like Marilyn Monroe on a red carpet. And that’s cool; it’s not “buying into my disease” or tricking myself. It teaches me that I can also look in the mirror, with no makeup on and certainly no filters other than dirty glass, and feel the same. It’s a process. But you get there.
My point is that I’d rather wear a filter posted on social media than a fabricated smile in real life. I’ll gladly live my life in a Photoshopped existence and praise other Photoshopped people. I’d much rather do this than beat myself up over every flawed thing that I can find about myself. You be you and I’ll be me. There has always been smoke in the mirrors, every second a person decides on what they want to reveal. It is our cleanest internal filters that are the most beautiful. The ones that allow a person to be who they really are and net all the garbage talk they may be tempted to spew at themselves or others.
Behind every fake smile, Photoshopped image, squeaky-clean demeanor, perfect life, and person you’ve always wanted to be, there is truth. You should focus on your own exterior and love it, nurture it, believe in it, until you can do the same for your inner self. It’s all the same.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Barbie and the fashion industry cause eating disorders no more than the big dreams of little girls and boys wanting to be superheroes and princesses. My sister chose Star Wars over Barbie and look what happened to her! It’s mental health issues and the shit in the middle. It has nothing to do with vanity, striving for perfection, or wanting more out of life. In addition to good professional help (sadly, there’s a lot of bad), fake it till you make it until it’s the negative BS in your head that gets cropped out, and not your chance at living the life you’ve always dreamed of.
image courtesy of Pinterest @Marilyn Monroe