What I Like Most About My Body is Not a Noun

If I were asked what I like most about my body, I wouldn’t answer with a noun.

This came to me last night, as I was lying awake and letting my mind wander, and I started mulling over some celebrity interview, of all things. This celebrity was asked what she liked most about her body, and she said her wrists. She likes that she can put her fingers around them.

You know, that’s a pretty good question. It’s taking the usual standard of negative body image that we—mostly women—have generally felt, and it’s standing it on its head. What do you like? And, you know, that’s a pretty good answer. Wrists are lovely in general, and I’m sure hers are, too.

I was thinking that I like my wrists, too. I mean, I can put my fingers around them and all, but what I really like about them is what amazing joints they are. They can move my hands in just about any direction, allowing them to do almost anything! And they can hold them there for hours on end, just like they’re doing right now at this computer keyboard. Amazing.

If I were asked what I like most about my body, I’ve decided that I wouldn’t answer with a noun. Very simply, a noun is an object, and I’m so much more than an object. As well-intentioned as that question and its usual response are, they’re still using the language and philosophy that have objectified women for millennia. They’re still discussing us as passive things to be viewed.

If I were asked what I like most about my body, I would start with, “I like that.” I like that it’s carried me through so much, for so long, and that it’s cared for me—for itself—every step of the way. No matter what, my heart’s kept beating, my lungs have kept breathing, my muscles have kept moving, and my blood vessels have kept squeezing into those shockingly tiny vessels all over my body. It’s mind-blowing! I can’t think of a system more elegant or efficient, and I declare that no one can engineer one better.

If that’s too passive an answer for you, though, maybe you’d prefer to list your body’s extra accomplishments. In my case, I love that it carries me up mountains! I love that it can ride all over a hilly city on a bike! Heck, I love that it climbs stairs. In fact, I really like that it’s weathered some pretty nasty diseases and nightmarish food poisonings and has kept on trucking right along!

Or even, I like how great it feels when I stretch each morning. I like how nice it feels when I lie down each night. I love that, after a good workout, it feels all euphoric and wobbly, simultaneously telling me that I’ve done great and that I need a break. Now that’s amazing.

And I think that answering that way isn’t sidestepping the question or somehow glossing over the idea that one dislikes how they look. I love how I look. As an object, my body is a beautiful one. But that’s kind of boring when I think about every cool thing that it does. A thing is so much more interesting when it’s alive and moving, don’t you think?

I hope that this is only contributing to or restating a huge pile of feminist lit that’s already out there. I honestly don’t have the time to do the research right now (I have things to do, ha!), but I assume this is a conclusion others have reached before. That said, I think it’s one that cannot be emphasized enough.

As I think about my beautiful friends far and wide, swinging from trapezes, running marathons, climbing mountains, giving birth, kayaking, and dancing for hours, I can only marvel at how stupendously magnificent it is that they can and they do! It’s silly and stupid that anyone—of any gender—be reduced to a list of body parts to like or dislike when we can do that much.

We are so much more than nouns!