the constant struggle with the self
It’s kind of late, but I totes can’t sleep (and I just used “totes” for the sake of using totes, but I think it’s becoming a bad habit). I hear girls yelling outside as I type this. It’s not a very interesting conversation, mostly giddy laughter and drunken slurs. I need to compose something raw.
As I look at my wrists and arms, I can’t help but notice that they look so much larger than they did in July. I can’t help but notice that I am nowhere near being “skinny.” I can’t help but feel absolutely ugly though I am probably not as repulsive as I feel. I find it so easy to find beauty in others, yet I cannot seem to find it anywhere near myself.
Fact: I am obsessed with my body image.
I think of it constantly. I always feel insecure. Before I leave, I change a million times. I count calories. I hate myself when I mess up, which I have been doing on and off since September. I have the strangest relationship with food. My struggle with my body consumes my life, and that is why I feel like typing about this. (Oh, hello, Fleet Foxes on Pandora, thank you.)
Although I am dying to be 128 pounds like I was over the summer, I will not take the same measures that I did before to get there. It wasn’t healthy, and the aftermath is terrible. I deprived myself of most food. I excercised constantly. I did other stupid things. My hair began to fall out. My body started shutting down, turning off cycles. I was literally killing myself.
So now, I have been eating too much of what I didn’t eat before.
It’s terrible. Even when I was “fat,” at 180 pounds when I was 16, I didn’t eat quite like this. I am all over the place. Some days are good. Others are embarrassing and terrible. The truth is, I don’t even enjoy food. I eat until something pleases me, but nothing really does. It’s strange.
The weight comes back so fast when you starve yourself.
Even if I wanted to, I do not think I could manage to eat and exercise like that. I was seriously depressed and lonely and concentrated everything on counting calories, exercising, and punishing myself. I was so obsessed. I rejected invitations to hang out with friends because I did not want to risk having to eat or not having time to exercise. Sadly, most days, I miss that willpower, that control. (Hello, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. I love you, Pandora!) I lost over 15 pounds in a month. At my weight and height, that’s not entirely healthy.
Sadly, I gained 20 back ever since I came back to school.
I need balance. I need to drink a lot of water, eat enough food, do yoga, exercise more, learn patience, and learn to love myself at any weight along the way.
I don’t even know why I obsess about my body so much. I guess it’s because I was so large most of my life, and then in high school when I became decent looking, people started to notice me. I don’t know. I know that my appearance never directly affected my happiness. I mean, most people aren’t comfortable with their bodies, but I know that my obsession and hate is really unhealthy.
Some people (well, most people that really matter to me) believe that I am quite profound and wonderful, yet I feel like my obsession destroys that positive conception of me. I may be “deep,” but I am so superficial when it comes to myself, well, my appearance. No, I am not materialistic and most days I don’t even comb my hair or ever wear make-up, yet still, I feel like such a liar and fool.
I want to be confident in myself. I want to see the good things that others see in me. Sure, physical attraction may lead to the formation of relationships but it is what is inside that matters and keeps people around (of course, yes, yeah). Why is it so difficult for a smart (hello, I sound conceited) girl like me to understand that? Perhaps it’s the internal insecurities that I hold too, but I won’t go into that.
Merp. Sleepy time.
