Going nude to confront my body issues
- Julia Martincic
- Feb 26, 2017
- 4 min read
"You can take off your clothes now."
I clutch the fabric of my dress for a few seconds while looking around. We're six women, some already naked, some slowed down by the sheer absurdity of it all. But after a few seconds all clothes are off and I'm standing naked in the middle of the crowded room, surrounded by staring eyes and paint brushes. I lift my arms up, angle my body towards the concentrated audience, and they begin to draw.
I should probably call my mum afterwards to give her a heads up, is my first thought. I should probably never tell my dad about this, is my second.
I find it interesting that in a world so obsessed with the female body, simply standing naked in front of people is an incredibly scary thing to do. So I decided to do exactly that – I joined a life drawing lesson, to be a model. As frightening as the first few seconds are, for the first time in very long, I’m demanding my body not to be sexualised. It is actively being considered, sure, but I'm not standing in that room as a sexual object.
"I'm naked, and not thinking about looking attractive"
Body issues have become an epidemic in the Western world. In the UK alone, almost 10 million women have reported that they "feel depressed" because of the way they look. Research from 2015 estimates that more than 725,000 people in the UK suffer from eating disorders, one which kills more people than any other mental illness.
At the same time the beauty industry systematically enables and abuses these insecurities, through photo-shopped models in ads and campaigns. Mainstream media also help perpetuate the "thin equals happy" ideal. Take the Daily Mail Online, the most visited English-language newspaper website in the world. A quick look at their website shows what they believe to be important: articles about female celebrities showing off a "fit figure in a skimpy bikini", revealing "how fitness helped her combat depression" and galleries of "her fit figure in a plunging white swimsuit". Basically reducing women to sexually provocative body parts.
The female body is political, and industries profit on making us feel like shit. Loving, even just being comfortable with the way we look, has therefore become the radical thing to do.
Half an hour and four poses later my mind seems to have muted most thoughts. It's probably the first time I'm naked in front of someone else without thinking about looking attractive. I'm lying on the floor, back arched, desperately trying to hold my pose for the last few minutes. I can feel every muscle in my body, the cold floor underneath me, the eyes of the artists shifting between the models and their paintings. Surrounding me are women of all shapes, with and without pubic hair, skinny and fat, young and old, disabled and able-bodied.
As a young woman, sometimes the body feels like all that's important in life. To me, it's resulted in certain periods of self-loathing and compulsive healthy eating. During times in my life when my body has changed, I've felt almost repulsed, although I’ve always been healthy. For many of my friends, more than I can count on both hands, the pressure to look a certain way has led to full-blown eating disorders. We're not alone in this: according to a report conducted by the Dove Global Beauty campaign, nine out of ten women admitted they had stopped themselves from eating to achieve body 'perfection'. When the cultural ideal is unattainable, everyone feels like they're failing.
I'm not saying life modelling is the cure to any of these problems, but showcasing my body for the sake of art felt like a small step towards self-acceptance. The two other girls standing next to me on the floor tell me they decided to do life modelling for the same reason. Stripping down in front of lots of people obviously isn’t for everyone, but it could be one way to reclaim our bodies. And by doing so, maybe we’ll be able to emphasise the importance of our internal selves.
Body positivity is a counter-culture taking social media by storm. Instagram-accounts such as "bodyposipanda" on Instagram and the blog “Stop Hating Your Body” talk openly about these issues, posting pictures of their bodies although they may differ from the ideal. It's a radical act, accepting the rolls on your stomach, your stretch marks, cellulite, scars. It's a counter-culture I want to be a part of.
Because there is something to be learnt from that, being able to look at our own bodies differently. Actively trying to reconstruct the way we've been taught to think of ourselves. Blaming abstracts such as "society" and "media" for all our insecurities may seem banal, but when only 4 per cent of women around the world consider themselves beautiful, you should certainly look beyond the individual and to the socio-political context surrounding them.
After 45 minutes we get dressed and are able to have a look at what people have drawn. You quickly realise that to the artists, no body is inadequate. I walk out of the class, slightly relieved about getting to wear clothes again. In my hand is a big, purple painting of myself naked. I decide to frame it.
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