I’m going to be completely honest: I think I’m fat. I have always felt fat. I’ve done almost everything to avoid this feeling, but no matter what I do, or how much time has passed, I sincerely believe I am fat.
Fat shouldn’t be the problem it’s made out to be. But, let’s face it, we live in a society that shames us if we don’t fit the mold. We think we need to look a certain way and if we don’t…we don’t deserve to go out with friends, fall in love, get that promotion, hit the beach, or FEEL GOOD ABOUT OURSELVES. Who decided this? Why do we believe it? Why do I, Emma, the intelligent, body-positive feminist still feel like no one is ever going to love me because of my body?
I don’t have an answer for these questions. If I did, I wouldn’t feel this way.
My body is beautiful. It is a gift from God. I often tell myself these things in my attempts to reconcile this broken relationship. But to no avail. I still feel fat and fat is still a negative word. To be clear, I have never looked at someone and associated them as fat in a negative way. I save this unfair discrimination solely for myself. I am not proud of that.
I just turned 23 and I can’t believe I am still fighting with my body so furiously. I used to starve myself. I used to force myself to vomit. I used to workout for hours until I could hardly function. I binged…a lot. Now, I am careful. But occasionally, I still slip into these habits.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not romantic. It is real life and it is mental illness. In reality, I am a very healthy woman. In my head, I am huge and lack all appeal, sex and otherwise.
If you struggle with this mentality, or something similar, I want you to know you are not alone. I may not have it all together yet, but I have learned to cope with body dysmorphia. When we discuss the things that break our heart, we learn, we grow and we help others.