Body image is a widely discussed topic nowadays and there's no wondering why: people seem to have serious issues about it and its many aspects. Some people feel they're too thin, some see themselves too fat and some hate their crooked nose or freckled face. What is wrong with bodies and why can't we see them equally beautiful? I was thinking about this question some time ago and got this idea of telling you my own story. Most of the people who think they know me do not know any or most of the following.
I'm quite sure there's something beautiful in every single one of us but every single one of us has their own opinions about the things they find beautiful or visually or otherwise pleasing. I happen to appreciate intelligence, smart dressing and when aesthetics are in question, I could admit that I love thin people. Why? Because I think myself as an intelligent being myself, I love stylish clothes (whatever the style is, actually, as long as it looks good to me) and I would kill for having a body as thin as 1960's Twiggy's. But where does it all come from? I surely don't think that people that aren't thin would be any worse than the people who are – I know too many people that prove me otherwise – but there are certain associations I make whenever I see a fat person. I simply can't help it, oh how I wish that I could, and it doesn't make think less of them especially if their condition is not their own fault. I blame the past and my own visual tastes which also are a personal thing that I can't affect much on my own, no matter how hard I tried, and believe me, I have tried.
To tell you something about my past then, my history of body shaming is long and eventful. It all began on the first grade when my teacher told the class how I had put on weight. Ever since I've been the fat girl. The truth is that I never was that fat, not until very recent years. I wasn't overweight during my teenage years and I wasn't that during most of the elementary school either. I, nevertheless, was called fat and ugly. When I was on the seventh grade and we had swimming lessons at school, peopled referred to me as a cow. Not because I was such a horrible bitch (I'm not exactly sure if I was one back then, I probably have always been one) but because well, we all know that cows aren't the most petite animals there is. Even some of my friends have given me subtle hints about my weight. I don't mind that much nowadays as I really am a bit overweight and I do think that I should lose some weight but if you've been insecure about the topic for over half of your life, it leaves traces and it most likely won't be an easy subject for you to talk from that point of view, especially if the people's comments are something like "You'd be really pretty, but..."
Nowadays I can't think myself as a beautiful person, not as a whole. I love some of my features, like my sense of style, most of my hairdos, makeup and my face - and sometimes, more rarely, my legs. I, however, hate all the other parts of my body. I never smile nor make faces in pictures because all the faces make me look even fatter. I look like that when I smile, when I grin, when I have any other expression on but my neutral, serious face I have plastered on my face in all my photos. Most of my clothes look horrible on me and I never find any clothes from flea markets because I'm four sizes too big. I can't go to the beach because I find myself repulsive and terrifying. I can't go out to the city without feeling ashamed. I should be skinny, I should weigh 30 kg less than I currently do, I feel like no one can ever want to be seen with me, let alone have sex with me or love me and my appearance because my body is so horrendous and antic.
You might suggest that losing weight would solve all my problems and that, my dear droogs, is very true. It would, if only it'd be possible. The thing just is that I happen to have PCOS and most likely one or more of eating disorders and probably other less severe mental shenanigans to think about. PCOS makes it difficult to lose weight, yet ironically one of the ways to tread it is doing exactly that. I've tried it and I've tried medicines yet they didn't work at all either - they actually made me put on more weight. I stopped using them on my own after my sex life allowed that to be done. The other thing that makes losing weight extremely difficult are my binging sprees. I sometimes can be days without eating and then have binges of several thousands of calories. I can't control it when it happens as those are moments of total lost of control. When I keep myself occupied, doing things and meeting people, they don't occur that often but that kind of lifestyle also exhausts me a great deal, being the introvert I am.
I've tried getting help but the help I got didn't, well, help me; I'm sick of food journals and exercising plans that I can't carry out because I'm too tired or busy or poor or demotivated and I'm sick of discussing pointless shit with people who obviously try to help but they don't do it in a way that would actually make anything any better. It's not that I didn't know how to eat and exercise and live. I know it perfectly well. Maybe I'm just too much of a loser to do anything with that knowledge or maybe it's another thing that's fucked up in this pretty little head of mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment