“Wearing colour only happened when I was ‘skinnier’”: I avoided colour for years because I was body conscious

“I’d love to say I didn’t let a Tumblr post change the trajectory of my life but I was young, depressed and very impressionable.”

Content warning: This article discusses eating disorders.

The relationship I have with my body is a tumultuous one. There are days I look at my body and love and appreciate the way it allows me to move and feel present in the world. But there are other days when I look at myself in the mirror and absolutely hate what I see. I walk by any reflective surface and immediately look away because I’d rather not look at myself at all.

Unfortunately, this all started from a very young age. I hit puberty at 11 years old and at that point, I was gaining weight at a rapid pace (like every girl who goes through puberty). Around that time, I went to a family party and was called “fat” for the first time, with the added mention of my arms being “big”. The way those words came out of that person’s mouth felt like poison. The feelings of pure disgust from that family member made me feel so worthless, and have stuck with me for the rest of my life.

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Before that family party, I never thought about my size. After that? I began to understand there was (and still is) a hierarchy that exists when it comes to body types. If you’re viewed as thin, you’re healthy. You look good. But if you’re bigger, you’re unhealthy, lazy and unmotivated. We constantly see examples of this in the media, with female celebrities being berated whenever they gain or lose weight.

While now I can understand how irrational this is, when I was a teenager it really affected me. I became unhealthily obsessed with my body and what to do to fix it – so I begged my parents to get me dumbbells when I was 13. I didn’t understand how to use them, or what they could do to help me but for some reason, I thought bicep curls could make me thin. I started radical weight loss diets as a teenager and developed an eating disorder in my mid-teens.

Then one day in the early 2010s, I was doom scrolling on Tumblr. It was the early 2010s, and all I saw were posts of thin girls and lists on how to appear skinnier. On the lists, there was a tip about wearing all-black clothing. The post mentioned wearing black would hide curves, making you look tall and slim.

I’d love to say I didn’t let a Tumblr post change the trajectory of my life but I was young, depressed and very impressionable. I swapped my once-neon Supré wardrobe for a closet filled with all-black clothing and I hate to say it – I felt confident. No one could see what was underneath, and I didn’t have to suck in my stomach for hours on end. It was an addicting feeling.

I noticed wearing colour only happened when I was ‘skinnier’. When I felt thin, I wore lots of reds, oranges, blues and whites. I even wore a bright red bandana on my head (I know, I know – a sore sight to see). But whenever my weight fluctuated even slightly, the black wardrobe came back into the rotation.

I didn’t understand what it all meant as a teenager; why the sudden shift in my wardrobe only happened when I was ‘skinnier’. I bought into all the negative stereotypes that came with having any sort of excess weight. I consistently strived for the number on the scale to get smaller and smaller because I didn’t want to be seen as lazy, incompetent or unhealthy. I wanted the opposite.

My participation in diet culture (thankfully) slowed down as I got older, but wearing all-black when I felt bad about my body continued on. But recently, I’ve been forced to buy myself a new wardrobe. A lot of my old clothes just don’t fit me anymore, so I’m saying goodbye to the size eight jeans I’ve kept ‘just in case’.

For the first time in about two years, I went shopping and I didn’t buy any black clothing. I can’t even really understand why, all I knew was I wanted a change. I opted for whites, beiges, greens and yellows that ranged from size 12 to L. This information would’ve horrified me years ago if I didn’t have a somewhat stable relationship with my body now.

When I tried these new colourful pieces on in the dressing room for the first time, I was surprised to find I didn’t hate them. I actually felt good in what I was wearing. That’s not to say that wearing colours when I feel unsure about my body isn’t intimidating, because it is. It scares me because people will be able to see more of me. Bright clothing draws attention to my body, rather than just a blank slate.

I feel a horrible sense of shame when I think this way, but I can’t help it. It’s a constant battle that I am still learning to live with every day. My relationship with my body is difficult. I can love and value what my body does for me and am so thankful to be healthy, but I also can’t help but pick my appearance apart sometimes. While my new wardrobe isn’t the most vibrant and outgoing, it’s a start.