I alluded to this a couple weeks ago, and now it’s finally here: the time where I write about the issues I have with my body. There are many individual ones, and there are a couple big ones.
Everyone experiences body insecurity at some point in their lives. My insecure period has been ongoing since I was 12 and my figure “filled out,” as my mother likes to put it. I am a curvy girl, there is no denying that. I’m not overweight, and I am not a person you would look at and immediately think “oh, she’s fat,” as if that was my defining trait. However, I am locked in a constant and terrifying battle between the part of my mind who sees the cute, sexy hourlgass girl with the bright green eyes who can rule the world, and the other side, who constantly magnifies the parts of myself that I hate the most and almost can’t bear to look at.
This tug of war is ongoing and never seems to let up. Even when I was at what I consider my most attractive, that was incredibly bad because the summer I looked hot was the summer I had an eating disorder. I’ve long gotten past that (thank goodness), but the insecurities about my weight are almost overwhelming. The fact that I’ve definitely gained weight since getting to college and finally being able to eat without the constant judging eyes of my mother does not help whatsoever.
Sometimes, it’s really difficult to hate yourself when your friends constantly say you look fine, when your boyfriend always tells you how gorgeous he thinks you are, and on those days where your outfit and makeup are just spot on and you feel like the world is at your feet. However, it’s possible. My feelings towards my body can fluctuate dramatically within a day, even within a couple hours. I feel a little better with every one of those nice comments, yet still the doubt always remains.
Here’s one straight-up fact: I don’t need to love myself. I know that loving myself all the time is completely unrealistic. All I want is to accept myself. To accept the fact that I’m not perfectly skinny, and I have flaws, and be okay with that. It seems like a tangible enough goal, but then again, it’s always just out of my reach. I am somewhat of a perfectionist and cannot accept my own flaws. I want to fix them, I want to mold myself into the person I really want to be.
On that note, I am feeling extreme self-pressure at this very moment. This morning I woke up and noticed new stretch marks. Again. I am telling myself now: this has to stop. It just has to. I’m not only making myself feel more and more self-conscious, but I’m afraid for my health because there is absolutely one thing to blame in this situation and that is my very poor eating habits since getting to college. I know it’s common, but today, this morning, I have reached my breaking point.
Just to let you know: I do not judge people on their weight. I believe everyone has beauty in them, and it’s up to them whether or not they want to let it show. The flaws I see on myself are ones I know I’m blowing out of proportion, but they plague me nevertheless. I do not see these things when I look in other people. It’s a problem I have, I know. I have made it my mission since I got out of middle school what feels like hundreds of years ago to see the best in people, and in all the years that have passed, that outlook has worked. However, while I see the best in others, I only seem to be able to see the worst parts of myself.
I just wish I had a clear view of myself. I wish I could look at my body from the outside, see myself how my boyfriends see me, see myself how strangers see me. I just want an honest view of myself from another perspective, so maybe I can see the best in me, too.