Battlefield.
Sunday afternoon was a Norman Rockwell kind of day. It was sunny and mild, an autumn day you should spend picking apples or going for a bike ride down some winding, leaf-scattered lane.
I spent it slumped in the corner of my bathroom, sobbing.
What a waste.
I felt it coming Friday, a fog of sadness and mournfulness rolling in. I tried to ignore it. Alas, I woke up Sunday morning quite certain that I was a most miserable excuse for a person, and that I was as ugly as homemade sin, and that such a worthless girl really should stop eating and maybe also go run 10 miles.
Where does that come from? How can you be coasting along, mostly okay with yourself, mostly eating in a non-restricted manner, and then you tumble into a hole?
I’d say I have a fairly consistent 60/40 split happening in regards to my body right now. Sixty percent of the time, I think I’m okay as I am; I don’t feel like my body is lumpy and shameful and I’m okay with being plain and unspectacular.
The other forty percent of the time, though. Damn. That’s the hard part.
I’m not a pretty girl, regardless of being fat, skinny, or otherwise. The genetic lottery gave me all the odd parts of my lineage: crooked nose, uneven skin, sad eyes, elfin chin. I am odd-looking, and I know it, but hey. I can’t help my face, you know? But at least when I was smaller, when my body was more socially acceptable, I felt like maybe I looked okay.
I sort of never feel like I look okay now. It’s like being in 6th grade every day, the pervasive sense of self-consciousness and embarrassment. I’m thinking of growing my hair out so I can hide behind it; my short hair shows too much.
Even losing weight won’t work for me anymore; my body is onto the game, so when I freak out and restrict, my weight no longer even shifts. And I know that weight loss may make me feel more comfortable in the world, but it really only changes the words of the insults I use with myself. It can’t stop them.
It doesn’t help that I’m wearing the same four pairs of pants over and over because shopping has been so incredibly unsuccessful lately. Nothing fits right and seeing my thighs in the dressing room mirror typically makes me want to skip my next meal, so I’m shaky and uncertain about how to proceed.
So, I’ll just read my books and keep wearing the same pants and trust that the only way to get through is to go through.
But no more wasting pretty days crying in bathrooms. I need deserve sunshine.
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Hey there. I understand how you feel. Isn’t it strange how quickly that fog can roll right in and sweep the rug out from under you? I had my own little moment over the weekend too, and I think that getting it off your chest will help. Crying, venting, anything that release the pent up frustration is better than internalizing it. I hope you find your sunshine, you do deserve it
I just want to say ::hug:: to you. I’m not fat but I know ALL about the self-hatred. I go through it much more often than I’d like to admit. It’s not fun. Here’s to both of us learning how to love ourselves.
I send you hugs, best wishes, & positive vibes. I also never won the ‘pretty girl’ genetic lottery, so I can empathize. It takes a lot of work, courage, & determination to win yourself, to love yourself, in a world which teaches us that we should not. I am fat, disabled, not pretty, & now, at 58, receiving messages from the culture that I am also old. However, I am a rare & beautiful, special creature, one of a kind, & so are you, so are we all.
Take care & keep looking for that sunshine. It IS out there for all of us, even if it sometimes gets hidden by a cloud.
GWC, I know exactly what you mean. I went through the same thing on the SAME DAY. I considered it to be a “two steps forward, one step back” sort of thing.
But consider this: if it IS a “two steps forward, one step back” thing, then you’re still making progress. Slow progress, sure. But progress all the same.
May we ALL - fat, skinny, pretty, plain, white, brown, pink-with-purple-polka-dots - learn to love ourselves for who we are. After all, there’s only one of us in the world, and we have to have been put here for a reason.
{{{hugs}}}
Is it maybe that “lady time” is right around the corner? Or maybe your body needed to get rid of some stress and having a good cry was the only way it could get it done. I’m certain you are not the unpretty girl you think yourself to be. I am certain you are a beautiful woman, and hey, give your husband some credit - I’ll bet he thinks you are beautiful too! As far as the pants thing goes - it’s not you - it’s the pants. Trust me on this one! Pants are finicky these days and finding a pair that makes you sing is like searching for hidden treasure - hard work, but totally worth it in the end (ha!Pun intended!). And yes, you do deserve sunshine. Sometimes you just have to tell the darkness to go to hell and force the sun to come out, and when you do, you can bask in the knowledge that you are so so much more than your skin - you are intelligence, creativity, insight, and kindness and much more. Sorry this got a little long, but just wanted to give you a little lift out of your fog and let you know that you still rock, as do we all!
your honesty in relating this does a tremendous service to those who are trying to live life the way you are now living it but are finding it hard. thank you for telling the bad with the good. for struggling but not giving up. you are inspiring.
*shiver* Wow.
Okay, I’m about to have an After School Special moment with you.
Sometimes I want to blow up every woman’s magazine out there that has convinced us to break ourselves into pieces for analysis. Nose this, lips that, cheekbones, chin, legs, cankles, saddlebags, eyebrows, blah blah blah.
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have met a person with a face that absolutely radiated beauty by virtue of their facial expressions, their humour and intelligence, the way they shaped their words, and the exquisite wholeness of who they were. Crooked noses, bad teeth, ruddy skin etc notwithstanding.
Maybe you can’t see it, standing static in front of a mirror, or caught for 1/30th of a second in a photograph, but trust me. Everyone you encounter gets to see the works in action, and the works is a beaut. It blows apart all the moronic Rules of Beauty — which only exist, incidentally, to groom us as prey for the people selling stuff.
You’re completely adorable and everyone who knows you sees it, without a doubt.
Peggy, thank you for that comment. I know it’s true, because I see it in all the people I love. They’re perfectly lovely to me and I can’t even see flaws if I squint *and* tilt my head.
I appreciate you pointing that out to me. Thanks again!