Self-Image

When I was a teenager, I can honestly say that I was very proud of the fact that I did not give a damn in regards to how I looked. I wasn't concerned with looking pretty or even put-together. Everything I wore, I wore for either comfort's sake, or to piss off teachers. I was proud of the fact that I wasn't one of those girls who obsessed and constantly monitored their weight. I looked down on girls who felt they had to wear make-up every public hour of every day. I detested girls who tried to wear sexy, uncomfortable clothes just for the sake of looking pretty.

It has only been recently... today, in fact... that I've realized that I have become one of these girls.

As a teenager, I always said that I didn't care what I looked like and I didn't care what people thought. This was the truth. And I continued to state this whenever the subject came up.

"I don't care what I look like. I don't care what other people think. All I care about is being comfortable and eating good food."

I am realizing that, at some point over the last couple years, these statements became a lie.

Although I have been successfully denying it to myself, I have become obsessed with my outward appearance. For at least two years now, I have been constantly weighing myself. Berating myself for every pound gained. I even berate myself when I lose weight, telling myself it's not enough. As horrible as it is to admit, I have often wished I were anorexic. I have secretly wished dearly to be that skinny, even though I logically understand that it is neither attractive nor healthy. I have tried starving myself for this reason, but unfortunately, lack of food causes me to get migraines, which make it makes it impossible for me to function. Even still, I try to skip meals, when my head can handle it. "I don't need lunch. I'll be having dinner in a few hours anyway." I still eat candy and snack-y foods, but I feel unbelievably disgusting and ugly inside when I do. And when I do, I try to deny myself another meal for that day to make up the difference.

When I do eat, I often eat incredibly unhealthy foods, like pizza and fries. I still want to eat things that I actually like. Even though it's fattening foods, it's usually once once a day and I run around a lot to make up the difference.

As a child, I hated my hair. It was frizzy and uncontrollable. As a teenager, I though I had come to peace with it, accepting my curly hair as a defining feature. But now I look at my hair and all I can do is think of ways that it could be better. Less frizzy, more volume, better colour, etc.

As I grew through high school, I started to wear nicer clothes. I still didn't put much thought into what I was wearing, just throwing on the closest shirt before heading to school, but at least my selection of clothes overall were nicer. This was a good thing. I no longer constantly looked like a slob or a wanna-be gang member. Now, I want to look nice all the time. Not just nice. Pretty. Attractive. Unless it's a day where I will see no one except my mother or closest friends, I have to look at least somewhat nice. Somewhat defined. Attractive, if at all possible.

I do not believe I am physically attractive or pretty. Logically, I understand that I am not ugly by any means. But I feel ugly. I hate looking in the mirror. I haven't actually looked at my naked body in a mirror in years. I don't remember the last time I've done so. When I put my contacts in or put make-up on, I focus on just the features I'm working on so I don't have to actually 'see' my face. The few times I have actually looked at my face, I've immediately looked away, wanting to punch the mirror as hard as I can.

I know that this is all incredibly stupid. I am deeply ashamed to admit that I've become one of those girls, who is obsessed with her image even though she looks just fine, great even. I hate that this is what I am now. I hate that this is how I operate.

Thinking about it, I think this all started in my senior year of high school. Due to side effects from my medication, I developed narcolepsy and had no appetite. During this time, I lost twenty pounds. I was so skinny, you could completely wrap your hand around my hip bones while I was standing.

I loved it. I loved the feel of it. The feeling of my bones sticking out of my body. People were complimenting me, saying how good I looked. I had never been complimented on my looks like that before. I looked fantastic for prom, and a lot of people, including boys, were telling me how sexy I looked. I tried to keep the weight off. But slowly but surely, I've gained all twenty pounds back.

I suppose it would make sense that this was probably the start of my self-esteem downfall. I was never 'confident' so to speak, in my looks before. I was simply apathetic. But now I hate myself and how I look. However, over the last couple years, I've managed to convince even myself that I still didn't care how I appeared, while silently belittling myself. I was in denial about my treatment towards myself.

But maybe... now that I am no longer in denial... maybe I can stop hating myself.