When I moved to university, my newfound freedom was lost to insecurities about how my body looked.
In the weeks leading up to starting university, body image was the least of my concerns. My thoughts were tangled in an adrenaline-fueled cluster of hopes and anxieties about what living away from home for the first time would be like. Would I get along with my flatmates? What would student accommodation be like? How would I utilise my newfound freedom?
It turned out that none of these worries were indicative of what my biggest issue living communally would be: body image.
I’m privileged to say that for the first two decades of my life, body image was never an issue for me. I had insecurities, yes, but they were focussed on my face, not my weight. I still can’t quite pinpoint why this changed when living in student accommodation. Maybe it was because I’d always been an only child, never sharing a kitchen with those of a similar age to me. Maybe it was because somewhere between adolescence and adulthood, my sharp, pointed edges had transformed into rounded, soft curves. Maybe it was because starting university can be difficult. Most likely, it was a messy concoction of all of these reasons.
In my first year of university, my time cooking was encompassed by shame. When my flatmates walked into the kitchen, I was overcome by embarrassment for whatever I was cooking. My flatmates were my friends, but I couldn’t help but compare myself to them. Either my meals weren’t healthy enough, or my portions were too large. Whatever the circumstance, my mind wouldn’t let me win. Despite the impact this was having on me, I felt I couldn’t speak to anybody about it. I didn’t want to make my flatmates feel guilty, especially as they weren’t doing anything wrong. And so my meals were served with a side of unspoken shame throughout the rest of my time in student halls.
I’m in my second year of University now, and it’s fair to say that my living circumstances are less than conventional. I live in a nine-bedroom, four story, student-house. Five girls, four boys. Before moving in, I once again had an array of anxieties. Was an entire friendship group moving in together a good idea? Would a nine-bedroom house share result in a Lord of the Flies situation? But my most irrational fear held more power over me than all of the others combined: Would I be able to cope with being the biggest girl in the house?
I scoured the internet in search of articles, advice, anything that would provide me solace, and was shocked to find nothing applicable to how I felt. How many people were also in my position, feeling alone due to the issue’s lack of discussion? It was this revelation that finally prompted me to broach the subject with my friends, resulting in some of the most genuine, cathartic conversations I’ve ever had. These conversations, fuelled by honesty and compassion, made me realise that I was not alone, and that similar insecurities were far more widespread than I thought. For the first time, I considered that my housemates might even feel the same way as I had.
I’ve learnt a lot from my journey with body image at university, but the main lesson I’ve learnt is to talk to loved ones, rather than suffer in silence. If you find yourself struggling with body image whilst living communally, please know that you’re not alone. As intimidating as it may seem, try to allow yourself to be vulnerable and talk to the people you trust; you deserve to be supported. You might even find that these conversations are equally helpful for whoever you’re talking to!
Disgraceful Magazine 