Returning to A State of Body Confidence

I was never self-conscious about my physical appearance—until one fateful day

when I was diagnosed with a twenty-six-degree spinal curve. At eleven years old, I was mandated to wear a back brace every night to prevent any further progression of my scoliosis. Over the course of three years, my scoliosis continuously worsened which ultimately led to me having a spinal fusion surgery at fourteen to correct it.

When I was ordered to wear my brace twenty-three hours a day, my confidence plummeted. Each day, I worked to conceal my bulky brace inside my school uniform. At a time in my life when fitting in seemed critical, I watched as my mother attempted to zip a dress up my crooked back, trying to cover the rounded zipper with my long hair. There was no concealing, only enduring, the ugly adolescent fact: I was different from my peers.

I rarely spoke about my scoliosis outside of my family and close friends. I would pray that I did a good enough job covering my brace, so that nobody would notice or ask me about the bulky thing under my shirt. I lived in constant fear of people perceiving me as different or potentially making fun of me. I had an amazing support system, but I still felt ugly.

Getting dressed everyday felt like a chore. I would pick out my outfits and be overwhelmed with disappointment as the clothes I used to wear did not fit me the same way they once did. I was envious of “normal” girls my age because I remembered how easy it once was to get ready for school. My crooked back compelled me to keep my shirt on at the beach. No matter the season or the outfit, I felt incredibly insecure about somebody possibly noticing my imperfect torso. When my scoliosis was at its worst, my self-esteem and body confidence were at an all time low.

I felt hopeless until a momentous doctor’s visit that I’ll never forget. It was time to consider spinal fusion surgery to straighten out my curves once and for all. I was intimidated, but my doctor’s reassuring words instilled a confidence that this tumultuous rollercoaster would finally come to a screeching halt.

Undergoing this procedure at such a young age brought out an inner-strength that I was unaware I possessed. Although this operation is usually considered a last resort, I am grateful to have undergone this surgery, and I grew, emotionally and physically, from the experience. My surgery showed me a new perspective: the person you are after a struggle is never the same person as before—I was stronger and empowered.

I am lucky for the gift of a normal life, and I have more empathy for people and their disabilities, seen and unseen. Though recovery was not easy, it taught me how incredibly strong my body is. I stopped picking on myself in the mirror and started being grateful for my health. Physical differences are not the end of the world; they are, in fact, a representation of how strong you are. Although I learned the hard way, it is possible to

alter the way you perceive your body. The scars on my back are a daily reminder that I have the ability to overcome any obstacles life presents me.

By Amanda Newman, Cornell University ‘22