I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. On several things. Since today is “Freckles is hungover and contemplating life” Day I figured why not blog about it?
Let’s pick a topic out of the hat: today will go with “My Body and how I love to hate it.”
Many of my followers know that I’ve had an on going battle for years with eating disorder (ana) and I’ve finally gotten to the point where I don’t have very many triggers at all anymore….except one…depression.
When I look in the mirror I do not see what other people see. I see someone who is short, with short pudgy thick legs, a short torso, that’s also overweight.
I don’t know how many times I’ve stood in front of the mirror not liking my naked body.
Pulling the skin in one direction or another, trying to mold my skin like clay. Always thinking…If I could get rid of that… I was blessed/cursed with a large chest… I’m 4’10” with 34DD….this makes clothing hard. Most women are like “Ugh. I’m SO jealous. I WISH I had your boobs.” My boobs look funny naked. They don’t look like what you see in porn. They’re shaped funny and I’m actually self conscious about them. Put me in a bra and I’m fine….have me completely nude and I’m very panicky.
I’m trying so hard to feel better about my body as it is. I try to pick out the nice parts. I get piercings and tattoos that decorate my skin as reminders. On my ribs I have a peacock feather wrapped around a key on my left side. I find peacocks beautiful and full of meaning. When things start getting really shitty I stand in the mirror, put a hand on the tattoo and say “Remember why you got this.” It helps.
I have this complex where I don’t think I’m that attractive. I know…very high school right? I’m genuinely surprised when someone confesses to me or compliments me. Hell my boyfriend can wink at me and I turn as red as Ronald McDonald’s hair. Yet I put on an armor when I’m out and about of “Yea I’m hot shit I know it.” My little bar family calls me the Bar Princess because when I’m all dolled up I part the room. But it doesn’t matter because I don’t see it.
Nine times out of ten I walk out of the house thinking I look…ok.
This mentality increases when my ED acts up, when my depression rises, that little voice becomes a scream in my head that I can’t drown out.
It doesn’t help when I have people who were once friends turn into an embodiment of that demon and say those things out loud.
That’s when it hurts the most.
When it’s said out loud.
So every day, I put on armor. No matter what I wear I always react with the persona of “yea I’m hot what are you going to do about it?” When really inside I don’t believe it.
Very rarely have I ever felt beautiful.
There was one night though….one night where the man I’m madly in love with…a long time ago…rediscovered my body. It was dark with the lovely street light as a faux moon crept through the windows. My skin’s so pale I practically glow. I laid before him and he took his time. Although he knew every inch of my skin it had been a while since he had seen it. I had gotten a tattoo. With fingers and light kisses he explored every inch. And in that moment I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. That voice in my head was gone and I was comfortable with myself. Please don’t misunderstand that this was a moment where I need a man to feel beautiful because it’s not. This was was a moment where I accepted everything about myself because I knew in that moment that I took his breath away. It was beautiful to me, that I caused that in someone.
It helped me.
I’ll never be the traditional beauty. I don’t want to be, to be quite honest with you.
I want to be okay with me.
And if I want to tone up and get in shape that’s okay.
And if I want to be fat and lazy?
That’s okay too.
Love yourself as you are, not as who you will be when…
Once you love yourself as you are, making those changes becomes a lot easier.