Words by Ophelia Darling, they/them, she/her | Images by Suzy Lafosse
CW: Bipolar disorder, weight gain, fatphobia
Everyone tells you that it is inevitable, that you should prepare yourself, that it is nothing to be ashamed of. They will even use the word ‘okay’ in a way that seems perfectly genuine – and to be fair to them, perhaps at the time it is. At first, it is difficult – you are tired, you are muted, your mind is a buzzing mess. But then months go by, things start to change in tiny, minuscule increments so minute you almost entirely miss them. It feels like forever, but really it is months – and then, one day, you wake up and find the sun seems to shine brighter, your mind feels lighter, and…your clothes no longer fit.
Before you know it, every conversation (which used involve someone congratulating you for finally, finally, taking your medication) becomes laced with comments, suggestions, questions…they never say it directly, but you can tell what they are implying when they ask, “do you really need that TimTam?”
The implication is clear – you have traded one kind of ‘healthy’ for another – and society is not pleased.
Almost everyone who takes medication for mental illness can attest that one of the biggest side-effects is weight gain – and it is a gain you most likely will not be able to lose. Of course, one of the much more important effects of medication for mental illness is a better managed mental illness – though people conveniently forget this part when the weight gained becomes ‘too much’.
For some reason, our society has decided it is okay for the mind to suffer as long as your body fits into the painfully narrow idea of what is considered ‘healthy’. Regardless of what people think when they see me and what assumptions are being made about my size, I know that right now I am healthier than I have been in years. And I have medication to thank for that.
Bipolar disorder is a mood disorder, and impacts about 3% of the population. Since my diagnosis about five years ago, my symptoms progressively got worse and worse, until a few months ago when I decided to trial a new type of medication. Let me tell you, folks – this drug has changed my life. I no longer have to analyse every mood, just in case it means I am getting sick. Impulses have become manageable. I am sleeping through the night again. Most of all, I feel like myself, my true self, for the first time in years. But – of course – there was the inevitable weight gain. In my case, I put on about 20 kilos in about three months, and things aren’t slowing down.
At first, the physical changes didn’t bother me – I was too focused on suddenly being able to have hope in a future I thought had been lost to me – but after a while, it began more difficult to ignore. The comments made by friends and family, while well-meaning, were sharp and painful reminders that despite the fact that my mind was singing, my body was not playing its part.
One morning I looked in the mirror, and could not match the body I had with the version of me that I had in my head.
Things had happened so quickly that when I stopped to look, I saw a different person in front of me – as though my body had suddenly appeared out of nothing, and I hadn’t been given the time to fall in love with it yet. As someone who uses she/her/they/them pronouns, the sudden curves of my body threw me, and I felt uncomfortable – like I had lost myself.
The words of everyone around me did not help either. I was told I am unhealthy, but my mind is the healthiest it has been in five years. I liked myself, but I could not recognise myself in the mirror, even though I tried.
So where does burlesque come into this?
Honestly, I started burlesque on a whim after watching some pretty inspiring Youtube clips with fans and thinking ‘I could do that twirly thing!’. I knew I wanted to reconnect to my body, but wasn’t sure if burlesque would help me do it. What I did know was that I loved the costumes, the range of styles, and how every shape and size under the sun could be found on a burlesque stage, all with equal cheers at the end of a performance.
So hey, I figured it was worth trying, even if my formal dance training was limited to a single year when I was eight, which…had not gone well, particularly when it came down to remembering the routine. My hopes when I first clicked ‘enrol’ were that I would feel more like myself at the end of seven weeks, that I would love myself more at the end of seven weeks, and that maybe I would be able to do that cool twirly thing with the fans in the video.
Four terms into burlesque and Sky Sirens, and I can confirm:
I am getting to know my body more every day
I am learning to love my body more every day
I cannot do that twirly thing (yet!)
I was beyond nervous for my first burlesque class, bundled up in three layers of activewear and keeping to the back corners of the room as the group introduced themselves. Now, I have to remind myself to actually put clothes on top of my burlesque outfit when I leave the house to go for class.
In that first class I had no idea how on earth I would get through seven weeks of bumping and grinding in a body that seemed completely incapable of doing a body-roll.
Now I am not necessarily the best at doing a body-roll…but I do them anyway because I can, and besides, I have too much body not to show it off.
In my burlesque classes I have learned how to accept myself, own how I look, and celebrate my body. I have learned to shimmy, bump, grind, roll, wink, and – most importantly – jiggle. The thing about burlesque is – the bigger the jiggle, the bigger the whoo.
And I have a lot more jiggle than I used to – and I always get a much bigger ‘whoo’ then I ever expect.
The best thing that has come out of burlesque is my confidence in myself – I walk differently, I hold myself differently, and I value myself in my entirety. I am still figuring myself out, but that’s okay. I am doing it in a way that helps me grow into myself, in an environment that supports me.
The journey to self-acceptance is a long road, and it is challenging in a society that tells you over and over again that healthy can only look one way. It is hard when the version of yourself in your head does not meet the version you see in the mirror. It is hard going through such big and varied changes. It is hard to be kind to yourself. If you find yourself in this situation, and if you are toying with the idea of burlesque – go for it.