What if...
- Kristine Schomaker
- 7 days ago
- 6 min read
What if I was thin? What if, what if, what if.
Those three words have been circling my mind for years now, sitting alongside a prescription that's been living in my refrigerator for a month and a half. Ozempic. The word itself feels heavy with possibility and fear in equal measure.
I'm 52 years old now. I'm not getting any younger, and my body is changing in ways I never anticipated. I went through cancer. I've dealt with other things in my life, and I don't want to worry about what comes next for the rest of my time here. I want to be prepared physically—that means getting in shape, getting healthy, and being the person I really, truly want to be.
You can read all the self-help books you want. You can scroll through Instagram and see all the inspirational quotes. You can do this over and over and over again, but how far on the meter does it create real change? I don't know the answers. I don't know if anybody really has the answers, because it's individual and we all have to live our lives according to how we feel, how ambitious we are, how passionate we are, or how much we want it.
The one thing I know is that change is the only constant. I could make a plan today and totally change it tomorrow. That is who I am and how I think and how I live. I could have an idea for art today and totally scrap it tomorrow. I could pose nude today, not pose nude tomorrow, and decide when I lose 50 pounds I want to pose nude again. And that's okay because it's my life.
The Weight of Words
Another thing I've been thinking about is the idea that we shouldn't comment on other people's bodies. But inevitably people will say, "Oh my gosh, she looks so good!" or "You've lost weight!" Maybe I've been holding off because I don't want people to say that I look good now—does that mean I didn't look good when I was heavy? All I can say is thank you. The big picture is I want to own who I am in whatever body that is, for whatever time is left.
The truth is, commenting on people's appearance—even with good intentions—can be deeply problematic. When we focus on how someone looks, we're reducing them to their physical form and implying that their worth is tied to their appearance. These comments, however well-meaning, reinforce the idea that our bodies are public property, open for evaluation and judgment. They suggest that looking a certain way is inherently better or worse, and that our value fluctuates with our physical changes. We often derive so much of our self-worth from how others perceive us, constantly seeking validation through compliments and fearing criticism. But the reality is that other people's opinions about our appearance don't define us. Their perceptions are filtered through their own biases, experiences, and insecurities. When we anchor our sense of self to external validation, we give away our power and remain trapped in a cycle of needing approval. True self-worth comes from within—from knowing our own values, recognizing our inherent dignity, and understanding that we are whole and valuable regardless of how we look or what others think of us.
This brings me back to "Perceive Me." My project has been about challenging ideas of beauty, feeling comfortable in our own skin, learning to live in the moment in our bodies, recognizing who we are and that we are beautiful. It's about learning to love ourselves as we are, for who we are, not what we look like.
But here's the complex part: "Perceive Me" has been me with weight. Me being overweight. Me and the curves and fat and being plus-sized. What happens when that armor, when that fat, is gone or less? What will I think of my body then? Will I even want to use it as art?
The Fear in the Fridge
Every person I talked to about Ozempic said, "Do it." Not one person said don't do it. It took me months to get the prescription for fear of what it means. Now it sits in my refrigerator because I've been afraid. What does it mean to take a prescription and feel like I don't have any control over my body or how I eat, or that I can't do it by myself? Because that's how I feel.
I've tried many different things, including learning to love my body as it is and embracing body positivity. I am definitely a proponent for learning to love yourself as you are. But what happens when your health gets in the way? What happens when you get older and your blood pressure goes up, or your knees start hurting and you can't do the same things you used to, and weight is part of it? What happens when you don't have the willpower to wake up and work out every morning and build muscle?
Why not try something, even if it's temporary, even if they say you'll gain weight if you stop? But what if I lose weight now and I'm able to get rid of the high blood pressure and the pain and start eating healthy? What if.
The Art of Being Human
Why am I sharing this journey? Because my life is my art. I want to challenge people to look differently and shift their perspective and own who they are. I am learning to own and accept that I'm an imperfect human who's impulsive and changes her mind constantly, goes up and down in weight, has shifting ideas constantly, and has many struggles but is very self-aware and seeks help when needed.
I'm owning that I've been an artist since I was born and I'll be an artist till the day I die. I'm owning that I'm not a conventional or traditional artist, and that's okay. I've received permission from those artists who came before me who used their bodies or their lives in their art. But in the end, I only need to seek permission from myself, because it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks.
If you know me or have been following me, then you know my journey already. You know that I am all about body positivity and learning to love myself as I am, helping others to love themselves as they are. And that hasn't changed. But the one thing that I know to be true is it comes from within. It doesn't matter how tall, short, or fat you are—it doesn't matter who you are at all. It comes from within, and that takes a lot of work.
I've been working on myself for a very long time through therapy and 12-step programs, through medicine and meditation and many other avenues. Being in nature. There isn't one cure. It takes a lot of little things. It takes a lot of work.
What If...
The other thing I was thinking: what if I want to pose nude if I lose weight? Not because of being self-conscious about being flabby, but what if I looked different and still wanted to use my body as art? What would that mean? As a feminist, of course I want to use my body for power and I want to show my body on my own terms rather than being objectified.
With the idea of change, I could also decide that I want to make this a more private journey. There are so many before-and-after stories out there—I don't want to be one of them. My artwork is about process and experience. It becomes a documentation of my life. It can be a performance, but then I have to question: who am I performing for? It's definitely complex, and there's no one right answer and there's no black-and-white answer.
So this is just the next step in my journey. Another layer of "Perceive Me"—not just how others perceive me, but how I perceive myself through change, through fear, through possibility. Through all the what-ifs that make us human.
What if... I discover new strength I didn't know I had? What if this journey leads me to create my most powerful art yet, or opens doors to experiences I can't even imagine right now? What if the best parts of this story are still waiting to be written?
