Beyond Body Love: Finding Peace in Neutrality
The pressure to love your body
For years, we’ve been told that the antidote to body hatred is body love.
That if we just say the right affirmations, curate the right feed, or silence the inner critic, we’ll look in the mirror one day and feel nothing but joy.
But for most people I work with, that expectation feels unreachable.
They’ve spent years at war with their bodies, through dieting, bingeing, criticism, comparison, or shame.
To leap from hatred to love feels like crossing a canyon without a bridge.
And when they can’t get there, they often conclude that they’re the problem.
That healing hasn’t “worked.”
That they’ve failed yet again.
What I tell them, and what I wish someone had told me much earlier, is that the opposite of hating your body isn’t loving it.
It’s learning to live peacefully inside it.
When “love your body” becomes another rule
The body positivity movement began with beautiful intentions, to challenge oppressive beauty standards and to reclaim dignity for marginalised bodies.
But as it filtered into mainstream culture, its message was softened, simplified, and commercialised.
“Love your body!” became another slogan, another standard to live up to.
And like all ideals, it can turn on us.
Suddenly, you’re not only trying to change how your body looks, you’re trying to change how you feel about it.
And if you wake up one morning full of discomfort or self-doubt, it feels like you’ve failed at that, too.
In therapy, I often see this moment of exhaustion, the realisation that self-love has become another impossible expectation.
That forcing positivity over pain doesn’t make the shame go away.
It simply buries it under a smile.
The gentler alternative: body neutrality
Body neutrality offers a different path.
It’s not about indifference or resignation, it’s about finding steadiness between extremes.
Where body hatred screams, “You’re not enough,” and body love insists, “You must adore every inch.”
Body neutrality whispers, “You’re allowed to exist as you are today.”
It shifts the focus from how your body looks to how your body feels and functions.
It asks:
What does my body allow me to do?
How can I care for it, even on days I don’t like it?
What might change if I treated this body with respect rather than judgment?
Neutrality makes peace possible.
It’s not loud or glamorous. It’s small, steady, and deeply human.
Why neutrality is sustainable
When clients start exploring body neutrality, something often softens.
There’s relief in realising that acceptance doesn’t mean pretending to love every part of yourself.
It simply means you’re no longer punishing yourself for existing.
Neutrality is sustainable because it’s rooted in behaviour, not emotion.
You don’t have to feel confident to eat breakfast.
You don’t have to like your reflection to wear comfortable clothes.
You don’t have to love your thighs to go for a walk that clears your head.
Each act of care builds quiet trust, and over time, trust becomes safety.
That’s where healing begins.
How neutrality might sound
In therapy, I often hear clients tentatively try out new phrases, shifting from criticism to curiosity.
They start saying things like:
“I don’t like my stomach today, but I can still nourish it.”
“My arms feel softer, but they also hold the people I love.”
“This outfit feels comfortable, and that’s enough.”
These are small sentences with enormous power.
Because what they’re really saying is: I’m no longer waiting to be perfect to be kind to myself.
The all-or-nothing trap
For many people, body image struggles sit within a wider pattern of all-or-nothing thinking, especially for those who’ve spent years people-pleasing or striving for control.
The inner critic doesn’t know moderation; it knows extremes.
So when we apply that same thinking to body image, “I either hate my body or I love it”, neutrality can feel uncomfortable at first.
It’s quieter.
It lacks the drama our nervous systems have grown used to.
It asks us to live in the grey.
But it’s in that grey space, the middle ground, where gentleness grows.
Where your body becomes less of a project and more of a companion.
Where meals become nourishment rather than negotiation.
Where mirrors lose their power to dictate your day.
Practising body respect
If body neutrality feels abstract, start with respect.
Respect is actionable, you can practise it before you believe it.
It might look like:
Eating regularly, even when you feel you “don’t deserve it.”
Choosing comfort-first clothing instead of punishment clothing.
Curating your social media feed to show diverse, real bodies.
Resting without guilt.
Speaking to yourself as you would someone you love.
Respect says: “This body is mine, and it deserves care, even on the days I struggle to see its worth.”
Grief and gratitude can coexist
Part of body neutrality is making room for grief.
Grief for the years spent fighting your body.
Grief for how the world treats you differently at different sizes.
Grief for the body you once had, or never had, or were told you should have had.
This is tender work.
But it’s also where compassion deepens, because you begin to understand that your body has carried every version of you, even the hurting ones.
Gratitude doesn’t mean bypassing pain.
It simply means noticing moments of gentleness:
The warmth of a shower.
The feeling of sunlight on skin.
The ease of breathing after tears.
These are acts of presence, and presence is one of the truest forms of peace.
This is work we can do together
So many people come to therapy believing that their body image is a surface issue, something they “should” be able to fix alone.v
But body image is rarely about the body.
It’s about belonging, identity, safety, and self-worth.
It’s about the stories we’ve inherited about what makes us lovable or acceptable.
In the therapy room, we don’t rush toward self-love.
We get curious about what your body has carried for you.
We untangle shame from survival.
We explore how neutrality, respect, compassion, and consistency, can become the foundation for a new kind of peace.
Because the truth is, you don’t have to love your body to start living again.
You just have to stop fighting it long enough to listen.
Reflection prompt
Take a quiet moment and ask yourself:
What would respect look like for my body today, not tomorrow, not when I feel “ready,” but right now?
You might be surprised by how small that answer can be.
A meal. A stretch. A deep breath. A kind word.
Small things, repeated gently, build the bridge between hatred and peace.
Closing
Body neutrality isn’t about giving up, it’s about letting go of the fight.
It’s an invitation to come home to yourself, without conditions.
If you’re tired of trying to love your body and ready to find steadiness instead, this is work we can do together.
A slower, softer way forward, grounded in compassion, not perfection.
