The idea for this post came to me after watching a documentary called The strongest wins – which follows young men as they open up and share their experiences with male body ideals and eating disorders. The documentary aims to portray the world young men are exposed to every day, where “muscles have become the new measure of success”. In the documentary they interview a masculinity researcher who explains that many young men pursue these ideals in order to gain female attention. I was struck by how unbelievably brave these young men were to share their stories so openly and unfiltered. The documentary resonated with me for two main reasons. First, it had always been my experience that men, in general, are the ones who are superficial, not the other way around. It was interesting to gain insight into men’s struggle with an issue that has previously been more associated with women. Secondly, it broke my heart to see young men willing to go to such drastic lengths to feel worthy the love of a woman. It also made me wonder: where does this belief come from? From women? From society? Who planted this mindset in them? I honestly cannot think of a single female friend who has chosen a partner primarily based on appearance. At least, not overtly. Where does this mindset originate? Is it something young men encounter online, or does it stem from their own experiences?
However, it is my view that there is a paradox within the mindset presented in the documentary. Their pursuit of the perfect appearance is rooted in the desire to become more attractive, and to gain female attention.
Which leads me to the question:
Do you need to have a beautiful appearance to be attractive?
I decided to write about this topic because I believe I can offer a unique perspective. In many ways, I feel as though I have experienced both worlds. I have been called things such as ugly, fat, and disgusting – just to mention a few examples. But I’ve also been called beautiful, breathtaking, and mesmerizing.
In my relatively short life, I have been both the beauty and the beast.
Here comes my story.
To my parents’ great consternation, I barely slept as a child. I had endless energy and was involved in some sort of activity every day – horseback riding, swimming, gymnastics, and dancing. I especially loved to dance. Just a few weeks after I had turned eight years old, my life changed in the most drastic way imaginable. I fell out of a car and was dragged along the ground. The car was not moving particularly fast, but we were on our way to a birthday party, so I was only wearing a skirt and pantyhose on my lower body. I held onto the door to avoid being pulled underneath the car, so instead, the inside of my left leg scraped against the ground, causing severe friction burns. Large sections of skin on the inner part of my leg were completely gone. It was essentially one large open wound, with bone exposed in some places. During my first week in the hospital, I underwent four surgeries, all focused on saving the leg. The doctors were seriously concerned about the risk of infection due to the depth and severity of the wound, and amputation was a real possibility. Fortunately, the doctors performed incredible work and managed to save the leg. After two weeks in the hospital, I was finally allowed to return home. I spent several months in a wheelchair before I could switch to crutches. Evidently, I had to quit all the activities that I was doing, which – according to all the adults around me – was why I began gaining weight. And then I gained a little bit more. Two years after the accident, I was on the verge of obesity.
I was then 10 years old when people began commenting on my body.
The explanation seemed obvious to everyone around me: I had stopped exercising; therefore, I had gained weight. I started to play handball, but nothing changed. Then the assumption became that I must be eating too much, so they made me eat less, which only made me feel guilt and ashamed every time I ate. As if I was doing something wrong. That didn’t change anything either. By that point, I was exercising again and eating less, yet my body still would not change. Since no one knew what else to do, people simply decided to accept that I was a bit “bigger”. One thing I have reflected on a great deal as an adult looking back on that time is that after the car accident, no one asked me how I was feeling emotionally. Everyone was so focused on the physical wound that once it healed it was as if everything was supposed to return to normal.
But nothing felt normal to me afterward.
No one stopped to consider what such a traumatic experience – almost losing a crucial part of your body – might do to an eight-year-old child mentally and emotionally. I did not need to eat less and exercise more; I needed therapy. I did not need people to criticize the size of my body; I needed someone to tell me that it was okay to feel frightened and anxious after what I had been through.
After the accident, I became anxious and afraid of vehicles and anything that moved quickly – cars, rollercoasters, bicycles, buses. But I did not yet have the vocabulary, emotional awareness, or mental capacity to explain to the adults in my surroundings how profoundly the accident had affected me psychologically, because I did not understand it myself. It didn’t make it better for me that there were boys in my class calling me names and making fun of me because of my weight problems to the point where my mom had to transfer me to a different school, because I was sad every day I came home. I am convinced that my weight gain was connected to the trauma I experienced – all the cortisol pumping around in that tiny little body to handle the pain and the shock. I remember that it took two months before I even dared to glance at the wound because I thought it was so disgusting. I also remember seeing a picture of my pantyhose that we sent to the insurance company. They were drenched in blood.
I’ve asked my mom why no one talked to me about the emotional wounds – why no one asked whether I needed psychological support to cope with the trauma. She told me that, back then, it simply was not something people did. Adults rarely spoke to children about emotions or trauma in the way we do today. Today, healthcare and society have a far greater understanding of how trauma affects both the mind and the body.
Everything became much better once I started at my new school. I was in a singing class, and I made so many new friends. Instead of coming home sad every day, I came home singing. During my early teenage years, I did not think much about my weight. I had simply accepted that it was probably genetic or something beyond my control. I had friends that ate way more than I did without gaining weight, and I played handball four or five days a week. If I had eaten any less than I already did, I would not have had enough energy to perform. But the older I got, the more comments I received about my weight. I would hear comments such as:
“You’re so pretty but your overweight makes you ugly”
“You’d be so pretty if only you lost some weight”.
“You need to lose weight if you want to become a singer”.
At school I was friends with everyone. One of my closest friends was the stereotypically beautiful Swedish blonde girl. Boys constantly surrounded her, competing for her attention. Whenever she was planning to meet a new guy, she did not want to go alone, so she would ask me to come with her for support. And I always did.
One day, I overheard a conversation that probably was never meant for me to hear. There was another girl that asked my friend why she couldn’t come with her when she was going to meet a new guy. My friend answered her that it was much better to bring me because then she didn’t have to worry that the guy was going to show any interest in me instead of her. Since I was not attractive, she didn’t have to worry about it. My ugliness made her feel prettier. She didn’t say the last part verbatim but that’s pretty much how I interpreted it. For most of my teenage years I thought that I was too ugly for anyone to be attracted to me.
If the goal of those comments was to hurt me, it would honestly have been much better to just punch me in the face instead. Physical wounds heal, but emotional wounds leave scars on your soul that you carry with you for the rest of your life – especially when they are inflicted during childhood. I still remember comments people made about my body when I was twelve or thirteen years old. The reason why I remember them so vividly is because of how deeply they hurt me at the time. Those comments no longer hurt me today. If someone made a cruel comment about my body today, I would not care. I have built giant walls around my heart. It is impossible to get through me. But I remember how much they affected me as a child, and that is why I believe adults have a responsibility to protect children who are not yet emotionally equipped to protect themselves.
When we returned from summer break for seventh grade, everyone suddenly seemed so aware of their appearance. I was the only girl in my class who did not wear makeup. One of my classmates refused to enter school property without wearing makeup. One day, a girl in my class asked me why I didn’t wear makeup daily.
I suppose there were many answers to this question. For example, my mom wouldn’t buy me any. I also preferred to spend my own money on books rather than makeup. I was also exceedingly tired in the mornings, and just the thought about waking up much earlier to apply makeup made me lose interest.
I ended up turning the question back on her.
“Why do you wear makeup?”
“To feel pretty”
“What if I don’t need makeup to feel pretty?”
“But what about the boys, don’t you want them to think you’re pretty, don’t you want them to be interested in you?”
“Well, if a guy is interested in me, then at least I know he’s interested in me because of who I am, and not because of what I look like”
I do not know whether that says more about my personality than my appearance, but no guy ever showed any interest in me, not until I turned eighteen. And what happened when I turned eighteen?
I lost a lot of weight.
I had just returned from a three-year-long rehabilitation process following my ACL injury, and I was fighting for a spot on the first team. Up until that point, my weight was not really causing me any major problems, aside from the fact that boys did not find me aesthetically pleasing, which I really didn’t think was my problem. It was not like my happiness was contingent on male attention or something like that. I had plenty of friends, and despite my weight, I performed very well in my sport. I had accepted my body as part of who I was. Because I was not eating unhealthy food and I exercised every day, I assumed my overweight was simply beyond my control and I needed to make peace with it.
Then my coach told me that If I wanted to make the first team, I had to lose weight.
I had worked exceedingly hard to come back from my injury, and I was not going to let anything stand in the way between me and my goal. I was prepared to do whatever it took. But never before had criticism of my weight affected me so deeply. I stood in front of the mirror at the gym and just saw everything that was wrong with me. Every single fault just grew bigger and bigger until that was the only thing I could see in the mirror. They made me feel like it was my choice to be overweight. That the root of the problem was that I was lazy and I just needed to stop being lazy. That I deserved the condescending comments because I only had myself to blame. The problem was that I had no idea how to lose weight. However, people told me to eat less and exercise more, so that is exactly what I did.
Then I ate less and less.
And exercised more and more.
Stories like these rarely end well.
Usually they never do.
Let’s save that story for another day.
My main motivation for losing weight was to earn a contract with the first team. But another part of me also wanted to get skinnier because I thought people would treat me better and more humanely if I were skinnier.
How right I was.
The more weight I lost, the better people treated me. Suddenly, people no longer interrupted me when I spoke. They listened to my opinions. They invited me into conversations. They looked me in the eyes when I talked. Suddenly, I was worthy of people’s time, energy and attention. Suddenly, they acknowledged my existence. Let’s not forget about the male attention. The way men looked at me changed completely once they found me attractive. Realizing how differently people treated me simply because of my appearance made me feel physically sick. But what disturbed me the most was not the attention itself. It was the realization that, because people had not found me attractive before, I had somehow seemed less worthy of kindness, respect, and basic human dignity. This was the part that shocked me the most. Because I was raised to be well-mannered towards everyone. I was taught that our worth as human beings is not contingent upon achievements, appearance, status or performance. Our worth is intrinsic. Every person deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. That is why it hurt me so deeply to witness how differently people treated me after I lost weight – because I was still the exact same person on the inside.
Same personality
Same heart
Same qualities
Only different on the outside.
Why was this new version deserving of kindness and respect but the previous version of me was not?
When I was 20 years old, I went through one of the most difficult periods of my life. My parents were going through a conflicted divorce, and I saw and heard things no child ever should. Simultaneously I was struggling with my own health. I had to cancel my contract with the first team because of my ongoing health problems. After I graduated from high school I became constantly exhausted, I was out of breath, freezing cold, and so weak that even simple workouts felt impossible to complete. My body felt fragile. The doctors could not find anything wrong with me. Everyone kept telling me I was simply exhausted from pushing myself too hard for too long, and that I just needed to rest and things were going to get better. So that’s what I thought I needed to do.
But it is difficult to rest in a house that no longer feels like a home.
At the same time, I had sought comfort and support in someone who constantly pointed out everything that was wrong with me. Looking back, I had every reason not to feel my best.
I’ve always had fire in my veins, and a spark in my eyes. One day I looked at myself in the mirror and it just wasn’t there anymore. I felt ugly and I also felt like I had to do something about it. I had received compensation money from the insurance company because of my knee injuries, and instead of spending it on something useful, I started spending money on improving my appearance.
I had long beautiful shiny hair and I loved it so much, but not even my hair was good enough for me anymore. I went to a salon for what I believed was a keratin treatment that was supposed to make my hair shinier. Afterwards, they told me I could not wash my hair for several days, so I followed their instructions carefully. But after the shower a few days later, my hair was completely ruined. Large sections of it looked like steel wool. They had clearly not given me a keratin treatment. I was devastated, I cried hysterically and was completely inconsolable. Eventually, my hairdresser had to cut off large parts of my hair. Losing my long, beautiful hair was probably the last thing I needed at that point in my life, and it certainly did not help me feel any better. It had been a long and dark winter in Sweden, and I thought maybe I just needed some sunlight, so I decided to escape for a month to my relatives in Portugal – Just to get away from everything at home.
While I was there, my goal was simply to relax and take care of myself. One day, I went to the spa for some kind of deep facial treatment. The woman performing the treatment was particularly loquacious and seemed excited by the opportunity to practice her English. Out of nowhere, she told me that I was very beautiful, if I just fixed the tip of my nose and lost some weight, I’d be perfect.
I was flabbergasted.
For two reasons.
First, because she had looked at me and searched for things that in her view needed fixing. Second, because she felt the need to tell me. I mean, what was I supposed to do with that information? Perfect for what, perfect for whom? As if that was the purpose of my existence, as if I had a societal obligation to reach the level of perfection, and she had done me a favor of pointing it out. I have always thought of human beings as art, nature’s art. And art is not supposed to be perfect; art is supposed to be authentic. I remember thinking:
“If I’m not perfect just the way I am, then maybe I am not meant to be perfect? Maybe I’m just perfectly imperfect just the way I am and it’s perfectly fine to be that?
Is it going to be a life-long fight to convince the world that I don’t need fixing, that I am perfectly fine just the way I am?
I later had a conversation with my mom that would forever change my view of myself and my perception of my own beauty. We talked about my recent experiences and observations, and how I grew tired of people constantly feeling the need to make comments about my appearance, and how easy it is to find faults in yourself when the whole world is searching for them. She told me that I need to stop being so cruel to myself. And I asked her, “how? When it is a cruel world that we live in?”. A world where so many people make insane profit of our self-doubt and self-hate. How does one person possess the power and the strength to resist societies constant reminder of everything that needs fixing with us. This is our own creation. This cruelty is our own doing. A world where those who manage to withstand the force and think themselves good enough the way they are have become the exception and not the rule.
It was my idea that we need to become kinder to each other. And become good role models for our children. We must protect our children and their mental health, so our children can grow up without believing that their beauty is contingent upon the fat percentage of their bodies. And I must start by becoming the change I want to see in the world.
Maybe I was never the beast. Maybe I was always the beauty, and the world was the true beast? Maybe I was never meant to be eye candy, but soul candy. Just because people were unable to see the beauty in every version of me does not mean it was never there. Maybe my true beauty lies in the way I care for people. In the way I encourage people. In the way I always try to see the good in people. In my strength and resilience. Those things can never be taken away from me. Because in the end it’s my decision who I want to be. Maybe it is our own decision to be beautiful or ugly.
There are four things I would look for in a potential life partner.
1. How he treats himself.
2. How he treats others.
3. How he treats animals.
4. How he treats nature.
I believe those four things reveal a great deal about a person’s values and character. When I imagine the love of my life – my soulmate – my person – whatever you want to call it – I never imagine a specific height, weight, skin color, or any kind of physical appearance. It’s always a feeling. The feeling of being seen, heard, valued, and safe in someone’s presence. Out of billions of people in the world, your person makes you feel like you are the most important person to them. Your happiness matters to them. They look at you as if you are the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen and love all your flaws and imperfections because they are a part of what makes you you. If the person you are with does not perceive you in that way, then perhaps they are not truly your person after all.
Is there a discrepancy in what we truly want and what we search for?
While watching the documentary, there was one thing that particularly caught my attention about the way these young men were reasoning. I kept wondering:
What kind of woman are they actually trying to attract?
And perhaps more importantly: if this approach attracts a certain type of woman, is that the kind of woman they are truly searching for? When people ask your future partner what she loves about you, what do you want her answer to be? Do you want her to say things like:
“I love him because of his perfectly symmetrical face, his big biceps, his sharp jawline, and his flawless skin”
Or would you rather hear her say:
“I love the way he loves me on my good days, but even more on my bad ones. The way he supports my dreams and believes in me when nobody else does”.
What do you want her to say? It’s an important question, because the answer to that question says a great deal about the kind of person you should be searching for. Once you have the answer to your question of what kind of person you want to attract, you must start embodying those qualities yourself. If you want to be loved for who you are rather than for what you look like, then you must learn to treat both yourself and the people around you with that same depth of care.
There are countless good-looking people in the world. But it’s important to remember that people rarely remember you because of how radiant your skin is or how shredded you are. They will remember your warm hug on a cold rainy day. How you made them feel seen and heard when they felt invisible. Your benevolent smile and support when it felt like the whole world was against them. That kind of beauty doesn’t subside with the collagen production of your skin. It dwells in people’s memories forever.
Whether we like it or not, life is going to happen to us. Relationships, stress, diseases, injuries, seasons, pregnancies, the list of things that can alter our appearance is long. And every version of yourself deserves love and appreciation. Because while we are busy searching for flaws in ourselves, our bodies are working tirelessly to keep us alive. Sometimes we need to pause for a moment and just remember how truly incredible the human body is. Everything happening inside of us every second of the day. Everything that has to function for you to be able to be you. On the days when you become overly critical of yourself, try to remember the miracle that you are. It’s also important to remember that when people don’t understand something, they often judge. Judgmental people rarely understand what it’s like to live in a body in war with itself. The feeling that you’re doing everything you possibly can, yet nothing seems to work. The frustration of fighting your own body while also carrying the weight of other people’s ignorance and cruel comments.
Let us create lives that we enjoy living. Lives where food and exercise are acts of self-care rather than punishment. Where healthy eating and movement come from love for the body, not hatred toward it. Where taking care of yourself is motivated by a desire to feel good, strong, and to improve the quality of life – not by the need to impress other people. Where caring about your appearance simply means caring for your hygiene, health, and well-being, rather than trying to force yourself into reaching unrealistic body ideals.
The most important thing is to feel good.
If you choose to make healthier lifestyle choices, it becomes much easier to sustain them when you shift your focus. Instead of feeling anxious about what the scale is going to show, measure success in lifestyle improvements. Do you have more energy? A more stable mood? More power and strength?
In conclusion, I am grateful for my experiences; they have taught me exactly who I want to be as a person – and who I do not want to become. I truly believe that if people spent more time, energy and money on being more pleasing to the soul than to the eye, the earth would be a much kinder place to live on, and there would be more attractive people inhabiting it. I have decided to turn that belief into my life’s mission: to help create a kinder world. A world where we treat both ourselves and others with kindness, respect and understanding.
Maybe I can’t speak for all women, but I believe many of us do not care for height, muscle mass, receding hairlines, defined jawline or whatever it is that men are insecure about these days. It’s a scary and cruel world out there for women. The greatest things a man can offer his woman is loyalty, safety and emotional security.
At the end of the day, maybe attraction is not about how beautiful you are on the outside, but how you make people feel on the inside.
First picture was taken before the car accident; the second was taken two years afterward.
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