And, as I do every morning, I thought to myself, "No, I look terrible." I have done this since I was in middle school and probably earlier than that, and I know I need to stop. I'm not sure where this cycle of self-hate began, but I know I have never had the same self-confidence in my appearance that I do in my intelligence. On an average day, I mentally insult myself 10 times or more. These insults include:
- I'm so fat.
- I wish my skin was clearer.
- My arms are huge.
- My fingers are so fat.
- Thunder thighs is an understatement.
- I could probably compose a symphony using the sound my arm fat makes when I jiggle it in a tank top.
- I really screwed up my makeup today.
- My chins are so out-of-control that they might begin rebelling against the chin I was born with. It would be a chin mutiny. (Yes, I get creative with my self-insults. I am a strange person. Everyone knows this.)
I hate to be that predictable person who struggles with body issues and, in turn, suffers from an eating disorder, but I have to admit that I am - against my will, of course - like everyone else in some ways. While I've never had a specific eating disorder, I have struggled with food my entire life. It was particularly bad in high school.
The week before prom my senior year of high school, I was folding clothes with my mother and came across a striped shirt that was baggy the last time I wore it. "I think I'm losing weight," I commented. My mother is a very matter-of-fact person, so she responded, "I think you've actually put on a few pounds." It wasn't even really a criticism, but it hit me hard. I skipped lunch all week and began vigorously working out daily, dropping five pounds or so in one week.
I thought it would give me satisfaction to look thin in my prom dress, but I don't associate happiness with that night. When I see photos of myself in my prom dress, I think only of how much my body image consumed me. I don't even look happy in the pictures. See for yourself:
 |
| I am in the middle. |
I'm not wearing the expression you'd expect of a girl going to her high school prom. I look tired. I look sad. And looking at this photo just now, I couldn't help but think to myself how I wish I could be back at that weight, even if it meant all the exhaustion and stress.
That's not okay. I don't want to rule my life based on the way I look anymore. It's not healthy for me, and it's certainly not pleasant for those I love to hear me insult myself all the time. Even if I'm not saying that I feel fat aloud, my mood communicates it clearly enough. I really want to stop this, because I'm getting older and becoming responsible for others. As of now, "others" consists of Gideon. In the next 10 years, it will consist of children.
When I have children - especially if I have a daughter - I don't want them to hate themselves the way I hate myself. It's tiring and painful to put yourself down all the time. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy - Dawn Ostroff, former head of the CW network who cancelled Veronica Mars and likely gives out fruit or pencils on Halloween - so I'm especially afraid of those I love feeling this way. I can't say that I will ever stop mentally insulting myself completely, but I know I can stop verbalizing it and allowing it to affect my mood as much as it does.
Most importantly, I know my children will never hear me call myself fat. I won't let them. So for the next five years or so, my major goal is to treat myself with as much care as I'd treat my future children. This includes eating well and exercising, but that's really the easy part. I can run for an hour and eat salad all day if I have to; I am pretty athletic and regimented once I decide to do something. I can easily take the physical steps to be kind to my body. Unfortunately, I'm not so capable of mentally treating my body well.
I'm going to try anyway.
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