I surround myself only with beautiful people, even though I am not beautiful.
I judge people who are lazy, lethargic, and large. I am lazy, lethargic and large.
I’m a shallow, judgmental bitch.
I am the first person in my circle of friends to make a fat joke, even though I am fat.
When I say that I am a fat girl, I don’t mean that I’m one of those girls who looks at her shape in the mirror and cries because she can pinch an inch, or has a dimple in her thighs that wasn’t there ten years ago. Oh, no! I’m truly and honestly fat — obese. I shop at the plus-sized stores, have stretch marks from my knees to my nipples, and have gone up in bra-sizes every year, even though those puppies “quit growing” in puberty.
I’d easily wager that I am 100 lbs or more overweight. I’m guessing, because scales were outlawed in my home before I turned thirty. I also don’t ever look below the neck when I’m checking myself in the mirror.
It’s weird, I know. But, in my head, I’m still 23, a C-cup, and a Size 8.
So, why is it that I hate in others what I am myself? Maybe it’s the same part of me that lives in a state of euphoric denial. And, after all, isn’t it human nature to hate those of us who manifest our deepest insecurities and fears?
The conundrum is that while I hate the quality in others, and while I imagine myself as the 23-year-old-me most of the time, I know that I’m not. I’ll be the first to admit to anyone that I’m grotesquely overweight. How can I imagine myself skinny and still admit my size to random people (and so publicly here)?
How can there be two parts of me that are so glaringly obvious and in conflict with each other? Is every female psyche equally complex? Or, am I unique in denying to myself, while embracing to others, my body, its size, flaws, and incongruities?
You’d think (and I’d agree) that my behavior should be the exact opposite — I should be aware of my size, understanding of weight problems in others, and less judgmental. And, you’d be right.
Here’s where it gets weirder. While the part of me that still sees the 23 year old body is in complete and utter denial, the other part of me is incredibly aware of my size, its awkwardness, and how repulsive it must seem to everyone else. That part of me is probably the reason why I don’t look below my neck in the mirror.
How can a person love herself to the point of turning a blind eye to her own flaws, while hating herself to the point of being consumed with how repulsive she must appear to others?
Am I alone? I can’t be. The rest of me is too screwed up and there’s got to be something normal in here somewhere. Of course, I know I can change myself. That’s always been the key, hasn’t it?
But, when one is consumed with self-loathing, why would one take steps creating a better environment or body image? It’s counter-productive to the vicious and hyper-critical identity I’ve nurtured from a young age.
So, the real question, I suppose, is not how to lose weight or stop judging others. No, the real question is how to learn to love oneself enough to stop the destructive cycle. Hopefully this blog will become a journey of self-discovery.
And hopefully, I’ll turn from this:.