“In a society that profits from your self-doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act”
Women seem to constantly be talking about their bodies as if it defines who they are. We call ourselves fat or ugly like it’s going out of style. Thinner women always complain that they are fat around me and in my mind its a huge insult to me. So if you think you are fat then I must be as big as a house, right? I wish I didn’t take it that way but I do. When are us women going to stop degrading ourselves to each other? Its not helping anyone. It’s definitely not helping the feminist agenda either. The product of this self hate is that we push our own insecurities to the next generation and now it’s part of the circle of life to hate our bodies.
I’ve struggled with my weight since I was five years old. I remember the first time I thought of myself as “fat”. It was my 1st day of kindergarten. I was wearing a green gingham dress with my long blonde hair pulled back into a pony. It was the first time I saw myself as an object, something separate from my thoughts. I was too young to figure out what I would do about it so I did nothing but get depressed. As I got older I started to do things like skip meals and binge. It wasn’t until middle school that it became a real problem. The girls were cruel to me. The popular girls wanted nothing more than to knock me down. I had something they wanted: I could sing and I could sing well. At my middle school if you weren’t in choir and glee club you were nobody. They had something I wanted too. I wanted to be thin, to be normal. Well, I was barely overweight but I wanted to be underweight. I wanted the boys in choir to lift me with ease even though my dance partner never seemed to have an issue lifting me. Having a good voice didn’t matter because I didn’t have the looks to go with it. Something had to change, and it did. It ruined my life in fact. First, I started making myself throw up every meal. Then that got to be too much. It was hard to hide and I was already losing my friends due to my sullenness. Throwing up wasn’t working so I stopped eating completely. It was fine for a couple of weeks until I found that I could no longer sleep at night. Days of no eating or sleeping flew by. I began to think I was invincible and I was actually losing weight. No one seemed to notice so I kept going until they did. The popular girls started treating me a little bit better. But by then I didn’t give a flying f*** about those girls. I was gaining confidence and didn’t care about what they had to say one bit. My confidence grew and grew until I suffered an awful psychotic break. It was too much for my body and it was about to give out. I had gone far too long without sleeping or eating. After all that, the 1st semester of 7th grade, everything is a blur. My memories are stitched together by what my friends tell me happened. I cannot remember any of it but I know it was bad. I know I was psychotic for years. After my first episode I was in the mental hospital for I don’t know how long. All I remember is being given love notes and having a little affair with my roommate in the hospital. I was shoved pills to treat bipolar disorder down my throat. Could no Dr figure out that I wasn’t eating and sleeping? That can’t make a person go nuts can it. Yes it can and It should. I believe that after being started on a treatment plan for bipolar, it caused me to never get better. I was eating and sleeping but I was still psychotic.
I had several other episodes but I can’t say when each one happened.
I tried to kill myself at least two times by over dose and I also cut up my arms and legs.
I followed Pro- Ana Mia blogs religiously
I starved myself off an on but I never stopped the bulimia…in fact I started abusing laxatives as well.
At one point I told a family member and asked them to help me but they said I was just going through a phase and refused to get me any help. Apparently I was never thin enough to warrant worry, so I never stopped.
I remember bits and pieces of high school but they are out of order. I think all of the meds I was on has screwed with my memory.
It wasn’t until I met Steven, my future husband that I realized my worth. Our courtship is a long story so I won’t bore you with the details. Bottom line is that he did alot of work to get me to stop the bulimia and the cutting. When we moved in together he made me stop taking the pills. When they were out of my system, I realized that I was a very sick, delusional person while taking them. Flash forward 6 years and I haven’t had an episode since and haven’t needed psychiatric drugs. My husband saved me from a life of sickness and I’m forever grateful that he came along.
What I’m trying to get to is this………
Are your looks really worth destroying your body and mind over? Don’t waste 8 years of your life over it like I have. It’s miserable.
We all need to get over ourselves and stop worrying so much about our looks and our weight because it doesn’t matter. Be a rebel and love yourself. Being happy should be the priority not “Ill be happy when my skin clears up or I lose 15 pounds.” You will never be happy with that kind of thinking. Surround yourself with people who love you for you and you won’t need to worry about your looks. Tell yourself that you are beautiful and maybe you will believe it someday. I can’t lie and say that I’m happy with my looks because I’m not. It took years to drill that negativity into my brain and it’s gonna take some time to get over it, but my self hate seems to fade every day. I have a son now to worry about and the last thing he needs is for me to lack confidence.
Here’s to the body positivity movement! May we all accept ourselves a little more each day. .