When Did Our Bodies Become Public Property?

Why are we so obsessed with other people’s bodies?

Seriously. When did someone’s weight become an open invitation for commentary?

“You’re looking well.”

“You’ve added weight.”

“You’re too skinny.”

“Have you been eating?”

“You need to watch what you’re eating.”

“You’ve really let yourself go.”

Sometimes it is said as a joke. Sometimes as concern. Sometimes as an observation that apparently nobody asked for.

And sometimes, particularly in African families, it is simply treated as normal conversation.

But what if it isn’t harmless?

I was talking to a woman in last week’s podcast, and she shared something that has stayed with me.

She had been a confident, happy-go-lucky teenager. She liked herself. She was comfortable in her own skin. Then people started commenting on her body because she was chubby.

One comment became another.

And another.

Eventually, the comments started to sting.

Then they became thoughts.

And those thoughts became beliefs.

She went from being a confident young woman to someone who became increasingly conscious of her body and how other people saw her.

She is now in her 30s and is only just beginning to feel comfortable with her size again. Her confidence is gradually returning.

Think about that for a moment.

Her body didn’t suddenly become a problem.

Other people’s opinions of her body became the problem.

And I think we need to talk about this.

 

Why are we so obsessed with body size?

We have somehow convinced ourselves that someone’s body tells us something about the person inside it.

If someone is slim, we might assume they’re disciplined.

If someone is larger, we might assume they are lazy or don’t look after themselves.

If someone gains weight, we assume something has gone wrong.

If someone loses weight, we congratulate them.

But what do we actually know?

Very little.

Weight bias research has shown that people in larger bodies are frequently subjected to stereotypes that they are lazy, lack willpower, or lack discipline. These attitudes can spill over into healthcare, education, employment, and everyday relationships.

And here’s the really uncomfortable part.

Those opinions don’t necessarily stay outside the person.

They can become internalised.

The person who has repeatedly heard:

“You’re too big.”

eventually starts saying it to themselves.

And then it becomes:

“There is something wrong with me.”

That is how shame works.

It doesn’t always remain someone else’s voice.

Eventually, it can become your own.

 

Imagine being a teenager and hearing this

Teenage years are already complicated enough.

Your body is changing.

Your hormones are changing.

Your friendships are changing.

You’re figuring out who you are.

You’re comparing yourself to everyone around you.

And then somebody comments on your body.

A friend.

A teacher.

A sibling.

A parent.

A coach.

A random person online.

Maybe they laugh.

Maybe they say it casually.

Maybe they think they’re helping.

But the teenager doesn’t necessarily hear it casually.

They may go home and look at themselves differently.

They may start avoiding certain clothes.

They may stop wanting photographs taken.

They may compare themselves with their friends.

They may become uncomfortable changing in front of others.

They may start believing that being smaller would make them more acceptable.

And suddenly, something that was never supposed to define them starts taking up enormous amounts of mental space.

Research consistently links body dissatisfaction and weight stigma with poorer psychological wellbeing, including anxiety, depression, lower self-esteem and unhealthy eating behaviours.

So when we tell a young person, “Don’t worry about what people say,” we are missing something.

Words can become beliefs.

 

And then there’s social media

Let’s be honest.

Our children are growing up in a world where they can see hundreds, sometimes thousands, of bodies every single day.

And not just bodies.

Curated bodies.

Filtered bodies.

Edited bodies.

Carefully posed bodies.

Bodies photographed from the most flattering angle.

Bodies selected because they fit a particular aesthetic.

And then we expect teenagers to look in the mirror and feel completely comfortable with themselves.

How?

Social media doesn’t create every body-image problem, but research has repeatedly found associations between appearance-focused social media use, social comparison, body dissatisfaction and poorer body image.

And comparison is brutal.

Because there will always be someone who looks more like the current ideal.

Someone thinner.

Someone taller.

Someone more muscular.

Someone curvier.

Someone younger.

Someone with clearer skin.

Someone with a smaller waist.

Someone with bigger whatever society has decided we should want this week.

There is no finish line.

Because the beauty standard keeps moving.

 

But here’s what really bothers me

We don’t just comment on bodies.

We attach value to them.

We celebrate weight loss as though it automatically means someone has achieved something.

We assume weight gain means someone has failed.

We praise children for being “so skinny”.

We tell girls they are “getting big”.

We compare siblings.

We compare cousins.

We compare ourselves.

And we sometimes do it without even realising what we’re teaching.

We are teaching children that their body is something that needs to be constantly assessed.

That their appearance is open for public discussion.

That smaller might be better.

That being attractive is something to achieve.

And that their body somehow determines their worth.

 

But what about health?

This is where I think we need a more sensible conversation.

Because rejecting body stigma does not mean pretending health doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t encourage children to eat nourishing food.

It doesn’t mean physical activity isn’t important.

It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk to our children about taking care of themselves.

Of course we should.

But there is a difference between:

“Let’s look after our health.”

and

“Your body is unacceptable.”

There is a difference between encouraging movement and making exercise punishment.

There is a difference between nourishing your body and being terrified of food.

There is a difference between talking about health and making someone’s body size a measure of their character.

And perhaps most importantly:

Body size is not a character reference.

A person’s size doesn’t tell me whether they are kind.

It doesn’t tell me whether they’re disciplined.

It doesn’t tell me whether they’re successful.

It doesn’t tell me whether they’re healthy.

It certainly doesn’t tell me whether they deserve respect.

 

Look at athletes

This is one of the things I find fascinating.

We can watch elite athletes perform at the highest level and still somehow make their bodies part of the conversation.

Women such as Serena Williams and Taylor Townsend have experienced public commentary about their bodies despite competing at the highest level of professional tennis.

And we’ve seen the same broader conversation around female athletes again and again.

Why?

Why are we watching someone demonstrate extraordinary skill, strength, speed, agility and determination and deciding that their body needs to be assessed?

The irony is almost laughable.

The body is doing exactly what the athlete needs it to do.

And yet we’re standing on the sidelines discussing whether we like how it looks.

Research involving women who played sport during adolescence found that more than 70% reported experiencing negative weight commentary during their sporting years. Those experiences were associated with poorer body image and psychological outcomes later in life.

Think about that.

We might think we’re making one little comment.

The young person might carry it for years.

 

Your body is not a public review section

This is something I wish we would all understand.

You don’t have to comment on someone’s weight simply because you’ve noticed it.

You don’t have to tell someone they’ve gained weight.

You don’t have to tell someone they’ve lost weight.

You don’t have to tell a teenager that they’re looking “big”.

You don’t have to compare their body with their sibling.

You don’t have to make jokes about their shape.

And you definitely don’t have to assume that because you’ve noticed something, it is your job to announce it.

Not everything we notice needs to be said.

That applies to adults.

And it applies even more to children.

 

So how do we build confidence in a world that is constantly judging appearance?

Perhaps we start by changing the question.

Instead of:

“Do I look good?”

We ask:

“What can my body do?”

Can I run?

Can I dance?

Can I play tennis?

Can I swim?

Can I walk?

Can I climb?

Can I hug my children?

Can I get out of bed and experience another day?

Our bodies are not merely things to be looked at.

They are the things we live our lives through.

And we don’t have to love every inch of ourselves every single day to respect ourselves.

Sometimes body acceptance isn’t:

“I absolutely love my body!”

Sometimes it’s simply:

“This is my body. It doesn’t have to be perfect for me to live a full life.”

 

Parents, this bit is for us

We need to be careful about the language we use around our children.

Especially when they’re teenagers.

Because we can think we’re making a harmless observation while our child is quietly building a belief about themselves.

Before commenting on your child’s body, ask:

Why am I saying this?

Is this actually necessary?

Am I addressing a genuine health concern or simply reacting to appearance?

Could I have this conversation without making my child’s body the problem?

And perhaps the biggest question:

What do I want my child to believe about themselves when they are standing in front of a mirror at 25?

Because we are not only raising today’s teenager.

We are influencing the voice they will carry into adulthood.

 

Let’s teach our children something different

Let’s teach them that health matters.

That movement is good for the body and mind.

That food is not something to fear.

That body changes.

That puberty changes bodies.

That ageing changes bodies.

That pregnancy changes bodies.

That illness can change bodies.

That genetics matter.

That everybody doesn’t need to look the same.

That being different doesn’t mean being deficient.

And most importantly:

Your body is not your value.

You are more than your waist size.

More than your weight.

More than your dress size.

More than your appearance.

More than whether somebody else thinks you are attractive.

And if somebody doesn’t like the way your body looks?

That’s okay.

It isn’t their body.

 

Maybe it’s time we stopped commenting on bodies altogether

Imagine if the next time we saw someone who had lost weight, we didn’t automatically say anything.

Imagine if we stopped congratulating people simply because they looked smaller.

Imagine if a teenager could go through puberty without their changing body becoming family entertainment.

Imagine if a girl could play sport without wondering whether people were judging her shape.

Imagine if our children grew up knowing that their bodies deserve respect whether they are slim, curvy, muscular, short, tall, broad or somewhere in between.

Imagine if we taught them to look after their bodies without teaching them to hate them.

Because perhaps the goal isn’t to raise children who love how they look every day.

Perhaps the goal is much simpler.

Raise children who don’t believe their appearance determines their worth.

And perhaps, as adults, we need to do some of that work ourselves.

Because some of us are still carrying comments that were made to us twenty years ago.

Someone else’s opinion became our insecurity.

Someone else’s joke became our inner critic.

Someone else’s idea of what a body “should” look like became the standard against which we measure ourselves.

Maybe it’s time to hand those opinions back.

They were never ours to carry.

Your body is not public property.

It is yours.

And it has been doing its very best to carry you through this life.

Perhaps that’s worthy of a little more respect.