In my late teens, I loved to wear high heels. I loved to exercise too. It helped me stay fit and manage my weight, without resorting to drastic diets. So, instead of driving, I walked whenever possible. Some might say I did this in the name of beauty, but if I’m honest, I did it in the name of vanity.

I had a body image problem.

I loved my high heels so much that I would walk three kilometers to the train station in them.
I stood on the train platform in them.
I stood on a packed train for thirty minutes in these heals.
I walked half a kilometer to the fashion boutique where I worked, where sitting down was not allowed. So, I spent each day standing in my heels, only to reverse the process in the evening.

By the time I arrived home, I would collapse from exhaustion. My feet were screaming, but I did this for four years. Then one day, I really looked at my reflection in the mirror. I studied it hard. And I didn’t like what I saw. There was pain in my face. It jolted me out of my vanity-infused stupor. The agony in my feet had started to show on my face. No one else could see it.

But I could. The pain was spilling out, finding its way into my features, distorting them. This was a big lesson. If I continued like this, my inner pain would eventually become permanent.

Vanity makes a face look cold and hard. Bitterness, I suspect, cracks the skin, making it appear dry and brittle. We become vain and bitter when we compare ourselves to others. If this goes on too long, we begin to resemble caricatures of ourselves, altering our bodies, injecting our faces, letting the beauty industry slice and dice us. We pump and plump, remove and relocate, fixate and distort. All in pursuit of an illusion. We let jealousy and envy consume our ability to address the real issue beneath it. We are in pain, because somewhere along the way, we have forgotten to like ourselves.

Yet when I like myself, it shows on my face. When I accept myself, it shows in my posture and the way I move. When I love myself, it shows in the quality of my relationships. I came to a simple realisation about body image. Well, two actually:

• If I am happy with my body, I don’t have a problem.
• If others don’t like my body, they have a problem.

These days, if I feel dissatisfied with my body, I don’t immediately rush for solutions, whether face creams, extreme workouts, or diet fads. Instead, I pause and examine my perspective.

I ask myself:

1. What exactly don’t I like?
2. Why don’t I like it?

Then I make a ruthlessly honest list:

• My feet are too big.
• My skin is too pale.
• My nose is too big.
• My ears stick out.
• My mouth feels too wide.
• My bum looks too big.
• My face seems too round.
• I have cellulite.
• I can’t wear a bikini.

Once I’ve written it down, I challenge myself with deeper questions:

• Which of these complaints are real?
• What makes them true?
• Are they true according to my physical health?
• Are they true according to my instinct to survive and thrive?
• Are they true according to my emotional well-being?
• Are they true according to my mental health?
• Are they true deep down in my soul, in the heart of my Sacred Self?
• Or are they simply reflections of societal pressure, media standards, and unqualified opinions?

To guide this reflection, I imagine that I have four bodies, each with seven limbs that need love, care, and attention.

Physical Body

1. Physical survival
2. Physical satisfaction
3. Physical independence
4. Physical healing
5. Physical expression
6. Physical intelligence
7. Physical interdependence

Emotional Body

1. Emotional survival
2. Emotional satisfaction
3. Emotional independence
4. Emotional healing
5. Emotional expression
6. Emotional intelligence
7. Emotional interdependence

Mental Body

1. Mental survival
2. Mental satisfaction
3. Mental independence
4. Mental healing
5. Mental expression
6. Mental intelligence
7. Mental interdependence

Spiritual Body

1. Spiritual survival
2. Spiritual satisfaction
3. Spiritual independence
4. Spiritual healing
5. Spiritual expression
6. Spiritual intelligence
7. Spiritual interdependence

Once I identify what truly needs attention, I take the next step:

• If it’s physical, I consult a doctor or a trusted health practitioner.
• If it’s emotional or mental, I seek guidance from a therapist or counselor.
• If it’s spiritual, I connect with a spiritual mentor.

Taking care of my weakest limbs leads me in one direction only: toward self-acceptance. Self-acceptance leads to inner peace. Inner peace shows on my face. It smooths my skin. It makes me glow. When I feel good, I look good too. Some people never reach the stage, or sadly, the age, where they stop worrying about what others think of their body.

Comparison leads down a road paved with vanity and bitterness. That road hardens into cement when I try to redesign myself based on the opinions, criticisms, and judgments of others. Breaking free requires a wrecking ball. Instead of turning that wrecking ball on my body, I turn it toward the reasons I allowed vanity and bitterness to disturb my inner peace.

The truth is that the reasons behind our dissatisfaction deserve scrutiny. They need to be based on reality rather than external influences. And this shift in perspective led me to a radically simple way to get a bikini body: I just put a bikini on my body. That’s it. No conditions. No caveats. No comparisons. Just acceptance and the beauty that comes with both.