Appearance anxiety may be something that most women encounter sooner or later in life. For example, after I became an adult, many relatives and colleagues commented that I was too thin. When I was teaching in Chengdu, the principal even suggested that I get double-eyelid surgery.
Although these things from long ago no longer seem important, and I have gradually made peace with myself, at the time I truly disliked my body and seriously considered getting double-eyelid surgery.
After moving to France, I saw all kinds of appearances and body types on the street. The features I had once considered flaws—a slender figure, small eyes, and monolids—instead came to feel like qualities unique to me, and I began learning to appreciate my own distinctive beauty. The occasional compliments from friends and colleagues about my outfits also made me more confident.
At the beginning of an intimate relationship, I would also have reservations and worry that I might not be liked. These days, I increasingly think of what Julia says while eating pizza 🍕 with her best friend in Rome in Eat Pray Love: “In all the years you’ve ever undressed in front of a gentleman, has he ever asked you to leave? Has he ever walked out? No, because he doesn’t care. He’s in a room with a naked girl—he’s won the lottery.”
I have also been working out over the past few years. Sometimes, when I see myself in the mirror, rather than thinking about how others might see me, I think more about the health I have gained from it. I love myself more, and a good physique is merely an added benefit.
I remember one day while traveling in London. I was sitting on the street watching passersby when I saw a blonde woman across the road taking photos. She was wearing a little black dress, had her hair in two braids, and carried a backpack. At first, I did not look closely and thought she was just an ordinary tourist. But when I took a closer look, I realized that she had no left arm below her sleeve. After that, I could not take my eyes off her, because she walked with such confidence and was no different from any of the other women on the street. She even gave me the impression that if you thought she was different from everyone else, that was your problem.
That day, I told myself: Look, you have all four limbs and are reasonably healthy; you should feel fortunate. It was also that day that I realized that if we used “health” as our standard, rather than the standards defined by society—that we should be slim or curvy, or that working out should give us a tiny waist and defined abs—and if we discarded all those standards and simply said that as long as you are physically and mentally healthy, you are beautiful, then our psychological burden would be much lighter, and we would live more freely.
I hope that, as women, we can soon accept and appreciate ourselves from the bottom of our hearts, break free from the constraints imposed on us by the outside world, live freely, and enjoy this world.