Comparison is the thief of joy
Comparison is the thief of joy

There’s this one quote that has stuck with me for the better half of the last decade; “Comparison is the thief of joy” – Theodore Roosevelt. Such a simple quote but oddly enough I don’t believe it could be anymore true. It’s fact, I would pay someone to tell me a time where comparison in terms of mind and body has benefited ones’ mental state. I’m willing to give up a whole ten dollars to be proven wrong. But I digress; if you’re not convinced on the fact that I presented to you before, here’s a ‘fun’ little anecdote to hopefully change your mind so I don’t have to give up my ten dollars. I would’ve been about 13, sitting in my mother’s bedroom staring at the closet mirrors closely inspecting myself as I often did. I ran my hands over my hips in an attempt to smooth them down into nothingness, which then led to my thighs that I jiggled with the back of my hand. The other girls in ballet did not have thighs that jiggled. As a 13 year old I was still emerging from my childhood, and so there were possessions that most people would think were reserved for eight year olds. Two rolls of patterned duct tape, adorned with unicorns and rainbows that I used frequently for various arts and crafts, following ‘duct-tape wallet’ tutorials on YouTube and making cheesy birthday cards for my family. I caught sight of them while jiggling any and all surface on my body and something in my mind just clicked. If I couldn’t have the perfect ballet body by nature I could have it by duct tape. My stubby fingers managed to find the opening seams on both rolls of the duct tape and I did not hesitate to begin suffocating my thighs is the tape, my leg hair screaming for mercy as it caught in the strong fibres. Why should I care about my burning skin though? I was going to look perfect. Eventually after exhausting almost both of the rolls, I finished. My stance was wide like a cowboy and my legs were covered in unicorns and rainbows which is a sight most would find ridiculous. It hurt a lot. Unsurprisingly duct-taped legs is not a pleasant feeling, who would’ve guessed. However, as I trailed my hand once again to my thighs and discovered they no longer jiggled, the largest smile crept across my face. I had done it, I was perfect and if I kept this on forever I would finally be happy with myself, but the itching and burning of the duct tape began to debilitate me. I frantically unwrapped my legs and flopped of the floor, out of breath and incredibly sore. A rush of sadness came over me as I realised I would never look perfect, I was out of tape. The stick figure girls in my ballet class would have always looked better than me and I couldn’t tell myself that unicorns and rainbows would make things better anymore. The unicorns and rainbows that had protected my innocent mind as a child destroyed my mind as a teenager. I would be lying if I said I had recovered from those feelings all these years later. Although I stopped ballet shortly after, the feeling of inadequacy in my own body lives in its new host; social media. The land of comparison I like to call it. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from those feelings. I have plenty more stories to tell but at the moment I’m more concerned with whether or not I get to keep my ten bucks? I think it’s safe to say I do. Theodore Roosevelt knew what was up.
['Amelie Spring']
['Body Image', 'Health', 'Mind', 'Eating Disorders', 'Social Media']