I’m always ashamed of my writing, as if pouring out my soul onto a screen and putting my emotions and struggles into words is too vulnerable of an act to be done. I’m writing this post with a particularly dim-lit screen, with the fear that someone will walk past, see my title, and ask me questions I’m not ready to answer (Side note: Yes, I do title my posts before writing them. In fact, sometimes I come up with the title before the actual post content. This is completely different for all other types of writing for me, though. It’s weird. Just thought I’d share.). There are two particularly uncomfortable topics for me to discuss: my body perception issues and my past relationship and its implications on my mental health (which is for a future post). So then why are you writing about them, Michelle? Personally, I believe that the best way for me to handle these issues is to really put them into words, describing how I feel and what I have done about these feelings, and forming paragraphs that I can conquer and slay. In addition, these are two topics that I believe need vast awareness, and they’re extremely important to discuss. So here goes nothin’!
My issues started when I was about five, staring into a mirror and being extremely confused. I was sure I had the body of a boy. I was a girl: I knew that and I believed that. But my body shape and discomfort with wearing any type of feminine clothes puzzled me. I put the confusion aside until puberty, when every other girl was becoming well-developed but me, who was still lanky and flat-chested, and the last choice of any boy in my class. I was confused once more. It lasted through high school, particularly with being embarrassed to share my bra size with my B- and C- cup friends, and not understanding their struggles with finding accentuating and non-accentuating tops and having men constantly catcall them. (At the time, I believed catcalling was a compliment, and desperately wished that I would be found attractive enough to catch a man’s attention. Now I’m much wiser and more educated, and am happy that I was never catcalled.) Even in my past relationships, and when my current one began, I was extremely ashamed of how I looked, planning and dreaming of the day I could get some sort of surgery to become like the “real” women I knew. (I also found myself having strange thoughts about the girls that I was friends with, which further confused me about who I really was and who I knew I wasn’t allowed to be.)
Then my weight became a point of attention for myself. I looked in the mirror and wished I could be skinner. My mother would ask me if I was pregnant because she claimed I had too much extra weight. I don’t really ever consider myself to have had an eating disorder, although I did binge a good amount of food. Not as much as what I’ve heard some bingers eat, but I ATE. Chocolate bunnies, boxes of cookies, bags upon bags of potato chips, I raided the fridge and cupboards for anything sweet or junky that I could stuff into my face. (I even ate muffin and cookie mix (the powder kind), which is still a weakness for me. Instead, I keep a bag of chocolate chips in my fridge, but I eat them sparingly.) Anyways, I became concerned about my weight, with no thanks to my mother’s hurtful words. Meanwhile, as I first started my current relationship, my boyfriend and his family would comment on how skinny I was. They’d call me a “stick,” and my boyfriend would mention how bony my fingers were. (At the time, I took it as an awful insult. I’d cry when I got home, or even once he told me. Now I realize it wasn’t meant to be hurtful, but it was simply a statement based on what he was used to.) About four years later, although I try to hide it, I’m still very concerned about my weight. I always hope no one is in the bathroom so I can lift my shirt and check my midriff in the mirror to make sure there’s nothing bulging. I work out a good amount to try to keep skinny and bulk up.
Especially as of late, I’ve accomplished my goal. I’m not bony, but I have a trim body. Very little bulge if any. I eat relatively healthy and hydrate as often as possible. Of course I do all of these things for my overall health, and not so much for my weight, but being skinny is quite an encouragement. But now that I’ve accomplished this goal, I’m unhappy once again. I feel like I’m too skinny but I’m afraid to gain weight and go through everything all over again.
This is an issue I’m definitely still working through. I wanted to write about it so I could get my thoughts into words, but also to spread awareness. If you aren’t totally happy with your appearance, know that you don’t have to completely change yourself. You can try to make yourself healthier, but also find the things you love about yourself. Don’t keep dreaming of the day you’ll look like a model and torture yourself until then. There’s so much more to life than just looking nice, so don’t make that your whole life.
In other news, this is my 40th post! WHOOHOO! I never thought I’d get this far, especially as a newly declared English major who’s actually going to pursue her dreams (that she’s stated countless times here) of being a writer and an academic. I can’t wait for the future ahead, and for my 50th post!! Here’s to progress, growth, and happiness!
Writer from the Block 