Imagine a world where we weren’t taught that how we look is our most important asset and how we look had to be thin. Photo / Getty
Imagine a world where we weren’t taught that how we look is our most important asset and how we look had to be thin. Photo / Getty
Comparison always leads to self-criticism, says author Alex Light in this extract from her book You Are Not A Before Picture.
I think all of us have, at some point, wished we looked like someone else – whether it’s a friend, a colleague, a model or a celebrity.
Body comparison can often be very debilitating, especially for people with body image dissatisfaction. It is something I have struggled with my entire life: I have compared my body to almost every single woman I’ve ever seen – in real life, in magazines, on screen or on social media.
When I was at university, my friend introduced me to a website that listed the weights of practically every person who is and ever has been in the public eye.
I knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be helpful (or truthful – where did this information come from?) but I was still hooked: my own weight firmly at the forefront of my mind, I would spend hours poring over the website looking for celebrities who weighed the same as or less than me.
The compulsion to do this was multifaceted: my body dysmorphia meant that I had genuinely no idea how I looked and I was desperately trying to seek clarity through comparison; I was searching for reassurance that my current size was acceptable (I thought that if celebrities weighed a similar amount as me, that would mean it was okay) and I was using people with lower weights than me as “motivation”.
Looking back, I feel so sad for that young girl, so lacking in self-validation that I was desperately seeking approval through weight comparisons with celebrities.
I know I wasn’t alone in this; I speak to so many people who feel trapped in body comparison and wracked with feelings of crushing inadequacy. This wouldn’t be so prevalent if a standard of beauty didn’t exist.
Imagine a world where we weren’t taught that how we look is our most important asset and how we look had to be thin . . . A world where no body shape or size was valued over any other, where all appearance was just neutral: the concept of measuring up just wouldn’t be relevant as there would be nothing to ‘measure up’ to.
But we don’t. We live in a world where, as we know, the standard of beauty is deeply ingrained in the fabric of our culture and, therefore, is a collective priority.
This is compounded by the fact that comparison is very much a hard-wired human tendency and evolutionary trait.
As social animals, in our past, fitting in with the collective was important to an individual’s survival.
“Comparison used to serve us well as a way to judge how safe we were, so we could make good decisions and survive: for example, as we developed into human civilisations, comparing our tracking skills to another member of the hunt could help us assess where we might need to hone our skills to stay as a valued member of our collective,” says Lucy Sheridan, the Comparison Coach.
So, while it was initially helpful, Sheridan explains that comparing ourselves to others has turned into more of a compulsion, due to a variety of factors that are now inherent in our habits and society.
“From the very moment you are born, your size and weight are logged and charted against other babies. Then, as you progress through younger years, learning and development milestones are tracked against others.”
The feedback loop of our parents, teachers, caregivers and other adults of influence then starts to play a part and it cements our tendency to evaluate ourselves against those around us.
Then, as we learn the importance of our appearance in society, we become aware of advertising featuring airbrushed models and celebrities with unattainable bodies that are widely considered “beautiful”.
We also hear our parents or trusted adults talk about their own bodies disparagingly and scrutinise the ways in which it doesn’t match up to what they “should”, and another comparison is born.
Social media heightens this phenomenon. Ubiquitous, loud and chock full of everyone’s best sides, it is a veritable breeding ground for comparison, offering up frequent and ample opportunity to feel that we are lacking.
We lose sight of the fact that we are consuming a deliberately curated, filtered and edited one-dimensional view of someone’s entire life, which is dangerous.
It’s also particularly dangerous for people with low self-esteem or who have a negative body image because social media, with its visual nature, offers endless opportunity for women to seek out images depicting the thin ideal that used only to be available via traditional advertising.
Comparison is a game in which there is no endpoint because there is always someone who has more than you. And, I believe, it ties your happiness to a goal that is often very arbitrary: it doesn’t really mean anything.
You know how it goes: “I’ll be happy if I start earning this much money”, or “I’ll be happy when I get this promotion”. Yes, these are positive things, but endlessly striving for them means that you are forever looking forward and failing to acknowledge and appreciate what you have, that you can be already happy with exactly what you have right now.
And – I’m sure you’ll have experienced this too – there is a very real danger that you achieve the goal and, rather than feeling the rush of happiness you spent so long working towards earning, you find yourself focusing on a new goal. The cycle then continues.
By turning outward, we also end up focusing on everyone else but ourselves – and what is right for someone else is not necessarily right for us. We might find ourselves setting off in pursuit of things that, we might realise with time to focus on ourselves, aren’t really what we want.
The disadvantages of comparing yourself with others are abundant and backed up by science: research has found that comparing fuels feelings of envy, low self-confidence and even depression.
“For some, it might be that comparisons cause a bit of irritation and envy, which can be brushed under the carpet but still mount up insidiously over time,” says Sheridan. “On the other end of the scale, comparisons can lead to a downward spiral of self-criticism that can keep someone gripped in a state of doubt and low confidence.”
This can be incredibly toxic for our relationships in lots of different areas – like career and romance – and I’ve spoken to many of you who admit to wanting to stay away from friends or family members who might be thinner than you because they make you feel inferior. It’s dark territory and it can take over your life.
While comparison with others is toxic and requires healing, we can’t forget the comparisons we make with ourselves. We often compare ourselves to our past selves – “Why can’t I still be thin like that?” – and an idealised version of ourselves – “Why can’t I just be better?” This is a sinister and paralysing comparison that feels particularly frustrating because we have evidence that something is possible for us because we had it previously. It feels more tangible.
I spent years grieving my previous, thinner body. I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to recreate my previous “self-control” and “motivation”.
The problem? My previous body wasn’t down to self-control or motivation; it was a result of an eating disorder and a lifetime of disordered eating. Yet I wasn’t able to register that, I was simply blinded by frustration that I knew it was possible, but I couldn’t “achieve” that again.
I think we all do this in one way or another when we idolise a past version of ourselves: we forget the surrounding circumstances. Ironically, often our past selves that we hold up against how we are now weren’t particularly happy people enjoying a great time. It’s worth exploring that when doubt next creeps in – don’t look back with rose-tinted glasses.
A great way to combat comparison with ourselves is to reframe the negative thought; my therapist at the time, when I was struggling, taught me this.
For example, she encouraged me to consider that yes, I was thinner, but I was also lacking in energy and concentration, both of which impacted my work and life as a whole; I was unable to enjoy a social life and I was deeply unhappy.
This is an extreme example, I know, but I promise there is power in finding even the slightest glimmer of positivity: if you have gained weight by ditching dieting – well, you’ve given yourself food freedom, and that’s incredible.
Find your silver lining, hang on to it and allow it to soothe you when things feel hard.
For more information and support, talk to your local doctor, hauora, community mental health team, or counselling service. The Mental Health Foundation has more helplines and service contacts on its website at mentalhealth.org.nz
