How My Body Deformity Made Me Confident Despite Beauty Standards
“Your hips are uneven because you’re growing into a woman! It happens to everyone,” said my mother reassuringly around my 15th birthday as I looked into the long-length mirror of our family home. It must have been horrible for her daughter, who once toddled and leered at this mirror, noticing herself in the reflection with joy, to now tug at her top self-consciously and run her fingers bitterly over the reflection of her curves.
But I knew something wasn’t right. My ribs stuck out wide on my small frame, one shoulder hung like it was resisting its socket, so I never quite stood straight, and my right hip bulged out of its skin in an angry jut. One trip to the general practitioner and a quick referral to the spinal doctor, and the consultant confirmed that I had idiopathic scoliosis and a 46-degree curve in my spine. At the sight of my X-Ray, my mother and I both took a sharp intake of breath. My spine was sinuous like a snake, curving aimlessly around my body, flicking organs out of the way with a snarl.
“It’s a body deformity,” the consultant said plainly. “You’re going to have one hip like Beyoncé and one as straight as an arrow.”
I heard, “You’re a traveling act in the freak show, and the Embarrassing Bodies team is already trying to contact you.”
This day molded how I saw myself during my teen years, opting for baggy jumpers and joggers around the house, and avoiding wearing a bikini around my friends like the plague. Seven years later, however, I think it’s one of the best things that has happened to me, and I’ll let you in on the secret why.
The Decision To Decline Spinal Fusion
In this day and age of perfectionism and the pursuit of an idealized appearance, I have been given a physical flaw that cannot be fixed by the local plastic surgeon.
And not for lack of trying. I’ve trawled the web looking for hip-balancing fat transfers and surgeries to narrow my ribs. When I was 18, my consultant offered me a purely aesthetic spinal fusion surgery, an invasive and dangerous procedure that involved cutting me open and inserting metal screws and rods to try and align my spine.
Alongside a six-month recovery time, he informed me I wouldn’t be able to bend or move the way I can now and would only lessen my physical deformities, replacing them with an 18-inch scar and an unsteady gait. On the brink of adulthood, I made the decision not to take this procedure, and I have never looked back.
I fear that having imperfections that can be easily altered can be a barrier to recognizing your inherent value and uniqueness.
Coping with Unattainable Beauty Standards
Why I feel like I have been lucky to have scoliosis is because this inability to conform to societal beauty standards has become a source of strength in my life. While I do find empowerment in cosmetic procedures and the wonders they can do for confidence and self-esteem, and find great joy in experimenting with makeup and self-expression, I do fear that having imperfections that can be easily altered can be a barrier to recognizing your inherent value and uniqueness.
When every insecurity is promised a quick fix with gym, surgery, or makeup, it can lead to constant dissatisfaction with your natural appearance. When the “fix” works, it can spiral into a cycle of seeking additional enhancements in an attempt to achieve an ever-elusive standard of perfection. Knowing other people have your lips and your nose and are paying to change them would make it undeniably harder to wear them proudly on your face and can exaggerate the negative feelings you have for these “flaws.” Due to my inability to ever reach society's beauty standards, I have found it easier to develop coping mechanisms amid life's challenges, appreciating how fortunate I am to still have my health and freedom and finding peace and love with my biggest insecurity.
Living Fully Despite Imperfections
My spine has grown in the wrong direction, and my amazing, powerful body has managed to work uncomplainingly around that. It’s not a deformity; it’s just my anatomy. I feel no back pain or hip pain. I can dance chaotically with my friends and leap into the air when England scores a goal. I can roll around on the floor petting a dog and reach to fix a skewed painting at the top of my wall. I can travel and sing and laugh and run around on the beach in my bikini, and I plan to do all of those things, standing as tall as my spine can let me, until my body can’t anymore.
Closing Thoughts
If I could be born without the deformity, of course, I would, but if I had tried to alter my body when I was young, I could have missed out on a lot of core moments from my life. And in none of those amazing moments have I ever worried about what my body looked like. So, experiment with hair, makeup, and cosmetic procedures but also relish the journey, embellish your uniqueness, and remember: It's the adventures, not the alterations, that make life truly extraordinary.
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