Words by Pep Torque & Photography by Elixir Black
CW: This blog contains discussion on Body Dysmorphia Disorder and Atypical Anorexia Nervosa
My safe place is shaking my ass in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe Kylie is playing (The Kylie). I’m wearing as little clothes as possible, expressing a journey of faces in a total release of joyous, grueling, dynamic pleasure. This place has always been an oasis of mine, but for many years I wasn’t able to enter this zone of physical and mental freedom. I have probably had Body Dysmorphia Disorder and suffered Atypical Anorexia Nervosa on and off since I was 11 years old. I was officially diagnosed at the beginning of 2020, or as I like to call it, The Year of Complete and Total Obliteration.
There was no pinpoint moment where I developed this disorder, but rather it was a slow avalanche of social pressure I felt as a young pubescent female who was somehow expected to become an adult whilst simultaneously suppressing their physical growth. Completely submerged in the anxiety of my physical body taking up space, I starved and contorted endlessly, in an attempt to achieve the smallest numbers physically possible. Numbers became an obsession, and I was completely absorbed with my weight, calories burnt and consumed, steps counted, and dress sizes.
Fitness and nutrition became weaponised for me, so one of the first steps to my recovery was finding new options to move in a safe way, reclaiming my ability to feel strong and fit without self-antagonistic goals.
With Covid-19 and the closure of gyms and other fitness institutes, the severity of my disorders increased.
I came across Sky Sirens whilst walking past the studio. Lured in by the glamorous windows, I enrolled in Babydoll Lyra. I was really nervous to take my first class. I didn’t exactly know what to expect, but I was also worried I wasn’t going to be able to complete the course because of my size and strength level. It also concerned me as a thick and proudly melanated individual, that I would feel like I stood out, but from my very first day I saw so many things I liked.
Lyra being so unique actually became one of the major reasons that it was so useful for my recovery.
Moving through the routine and the skills, I started to see my body take so many different shapes that I had never seen before. I felt like this was the start of me resetting my connection to my physical body by unlearning the old dogma and replacing it with new movements.
We shake our bodies and they move in completely unpredictable ways. Gravity hits at different angles, and cellulite appears and disappears.
I started to reassociate my body and my femininity with a positive fusion between skin, scars, bruises, sweat, spins and pointed toes. This made me feel unquestionably beautiful.
I started to rewire how I felt about myself, and saw my bruises from my pole classes as a badge of dedication and commitment to the next shape. There is no body uniform here which makes this such a nourishing environment for people who suffer from these disorders. Each week I was able to see my progress in the mirror. I was getting stronger and fitter and there was absolutely no way for me to quantify this in numbers other than the number of lessons attended.
In a room with an array of different people with different bodies celebrating each other, I was finally able to see myself.
I mean this in a very literal sense. It took a rich and diverse environment of people for me to actually see what my body looked like despite my dysmorphia. This was the first time in my life I was able to experience and practice (this stuff definitely takes practice) body neutrality and acceptance. As a self-professed cynic, I thought body acceptance was a fake instagram hashtag, but the inclusivity and diversity of the people who make up Sky Sirens allowed me to look past the unachievable perfectionism that pressed into my mental health.
The focus on individual ability nourished me as I progressed through the courses and the attitude of “we will make the move work for your body” is something that reaches way beyond the studio.
Now, when I get dressed for my classes, I relish in the feeling of being comfortable enough to wear minimal clothing in a room with bright lights and mirrors. I know I am in full force when I laugh as I fall out of a position. I know I am in full force when I reach just that little bit further and finally catch the sling. Every lesson, I see and feel a massive sense of reassurance and strength from all the classmates, and am grateful for the judgement free zone.