How Obsessive Body Checking Made Me Lose My Sense of Self

A Piece on Body Checking with Support from my Kitten, Bean

 TW// body checking, eating disorders, body dysmorphia

I was recently asked by one of my friends about my thoughts on body checking. And the truth is, I have had a long, intense, and inconsistent relationship with body checking. It was hard to get down in one text all my thoughts on it. I decided to take some time to write a more cohesive piece on my experience with body checking.

Body checking, as defined by healthline.com as “the habit of seeking information about your body's weight, shape, size, or appearance. Like many behaviors, body checking exists on a continuum.” 

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I used to spend hours scrutinizing my appearance on any and all reflective surfaces. 

I remember the first time I stood in front of the mirror, agonizing over my body. 

It happened in the girls’ changing room for youth theater. I, along with the rest of the girls in the changing room, were fashioned in bright green tights, a black leotard and ballet flats as parts of Kaa the snake. (We were performing, “The Jungle Book for Kids.”) I felt utterly exposed. As an eighth grader, I felt incredibly awkward in my own body. I did not necessarily want to put it on display. 

I stared at myself in the large mirror on the changing room wall, horrified. My boobs looked lumpy in the black leotard. Embarrassment coursed through me as I realized my training bra straps were visible. My lower tummy protruded no matter how much I sucked in. My thighs smushed together and my arms seemed to explode out of the leotard like Pillsbury dough. 

As I scanned the rest of the room, I could not help but notice how much skinnier everyone else was than I was. Their tummies did not protrude like mine. Their boobs, if they had them, didn’t look lumpy. Their bra straps did not show. Their thighs did not touch. Their arms hung daintily from their shoulders.

I wrapped my arms around myself in embarrassment. I was ashamed of my body and horrified that it was on display for all to see. I hated how revealing my costume was. 

After that day, I continued to scrutinize myself in the mirror. I desperately wanted to be as skinny and dainty as my fellow youth thespians.

I started engaging in eating disorder behaviors less than a year after this experience. At that point, the body checking, the scrutiny- it did not stop. If anything, it got worse.

Through high school and college, if I passed by a mirror, I would compulsively look, judging myself, at the frown on my face, the way my hair frizzed, the bags under my eyes, how my arms looked limply hanging off my shoulders.

If I passed shop windows walking down the street, I would immediately be entranced by the way my thighs strode away from my hips. I looked at them as if they were disembodied from the rest of myself. They were their own entities. I would stare my thighs down as they lunged back and forth. I wanted to make sure they were still mine- that they were still lean and long. I would stare until I convinced myself they were mine, that they were as I imagined... or until I ran out of windows. 

My worst body checking would occur when I was alone, door locked, and mind buzzing. Methodically, I would check my body toe to head. I would press my ankles together and stand straight up, then angle my hips back and press my knees together, then angle them forward and see how much liminal space existed between my thighs and calves. I would move up to my stomach, for the most part skimming past it, not wanting to be disappointed by what I found. I instead focussed on my arms, pressing them to my sides while jutting my shoulders forward, exposing my collarbones, to see if there were gaps between my arms and my torso. 

Coupled with the body checking was obsessively taking an endless amount of pictures of my body. 

I would compulsively take hundreds of pictures of my legs, specifically with my feet together, legs not touching each other. I would take even more photos of my stomach, studying it to see if it distended or caved. At one point in time, I would not let myself go to bed until I had taken a picture of my stomach from all angles. (I have since deleted the majority of these pictures.) 

Because of my obsessive compulsive body checking, I developed a serious disruption in my mind-body connection. My mind might as well have been floating above my body, separated from whatever was happening down below.

I only stopped obsessively body checking when I began gaining weight in my eating disorder recovery. I found it easiest not to look at myself as I gained weight. I knew that if my reflection did not live up to my expectations, I would lose my sense of self. If what I thought or expected in my mind did not match reality, I would want to change that reality to match my expectations and dive back into eating disorder behaviors.

A lot of my early eating disorder recovery required actively not looking. Not looking down at myself, not looking into mirrors, etc. It may seem counter-intuitive, that avoidance could not possibly lead to lasting growth. However, if avoidance keeps the obsessive compulsion of body checking at bay, then I believe it is a legitimate recovery tactic.

I realize I talk about body checking now as if I no longer do it at all. However, that is not true. I still find myself indulging in it.

I still look at myself as I walk by mirrors or windows. I still at times stand or kneel in front of my mirror to check how close my thighs are together. However, the difference now, is I am not as compulsive or obsessive with it as I once was. I have the ability to pause my thinking and stop the scrutiny. I no longer feel like I have to check my body from head to toe for imperfections once I start.

Now, when I notice myself body checking and I am unhappy with what I see, it doesn’t ruin my whole day. I am able to step away from the mirror and challenge the voice of my eating disorder.

I must admit, it has been more difficult for me to avoid body checking during this pandemic. With so much time spent at home, it is easy to steal away to my bedroom, lock myself in, and stare into my $5 mirror from Kmart. If I am not mindful, minutes, or even an hour can go by. I am not perfect. Recovery is not linear. It happens. Especially when there are fewer distractions to seek comfort in during a global pandemic. 

To some extent, everyone who has looked at themselves in a mirror has body checked in some capacity. Body checking only becomes harmful when it becomes obsessive and/or compulsive as well as if it drastically affects your mood or the rest of your day.

Since committing to recovery from my eating disorder, I have mostly mended the relationship between my mind and body. At the very least, they communicate with each other now. In the end, I am so incredibly relieved that I am no longer a prisoner to the mirror. Most days, I can walk away without so much as a glance at myself. 

Most days, I feel free.

If I can validate just one person and their experience, it will have been worth it to share mine. If you struggle with body checking, body dysmorphia, or an eating disorder you’re not alone.

With love,

Emily