Abracadabra! Poof, you’re skinny.

I don’t think I can explain my relationship with body image other than it is superficial. For me it’s less about being the part and more about looking the part. I’m all for the art of illusion. I’ll change my diet or start exercising in the hopes to see rapid change, but for what? I’m told by everyone that I’m skinny. Yet I can’t help but look in a mirror and feel 400 lbs.

Its the Opposite of Magic

What possesses me to think this way? Why am I so dead set on the fact that I’m fat when I’m clearly not? Then, it came to me that I’m not disgusted with the fat on my body but the things that are attached to it. I can’t stand how large my boobs are and I can’t stand the way my hips stick out in support of my butt. Most of all, I hate that I grow practically every day needing to buy a whole new wardrobe each month.

How can you not feel fat when the clothes you bought the week before don’t fit you all of sudden? It makes me research things like; “Ways to lose fat in a week“ or “Quick ways to reduce breast size“’. My most common research has been “How many calories do you have to eat to make one pound?” I instantly became obsessed with calorie math, calculating how many pounds I’d make in a week if I stick to the 2,500 calories I was supposed to eat.

I began researching Anorexia Nervosa. I listened to people’s stories and watched how quickly they lost weight. I knew that with anorexia you could lose one pound a day, which means that seven pounds a week is 28 pounds a month and after two months I’d be under weight and malnourished. Though, horrified, the information didn’t stop me from thinking about it. I wanted nothing more than to finally feel happy in my clothes and not have to buy oversized things to hide my definition of fat. With high school coming my way I didn’t want to have to aspire to the multiple skinny girls around me, nor did I want to compare myself to the fat ones.

The Game of Pretend

Sucking in my stomach became my specialty. I got so good at it, I actually started building muscle from all the flexing and didn’t have to suck it in anymore. I still wasn’t happy even though my stomach was flat. My boobs were still the same size as well as my butt. I felt stuck and lost; my only resort was to try and embrace the body. I started cutting my shirts and wearing shorts that showed off my legs, regardless of how good I looked to other perverted people. I wasn’t comfortable, not because of the roaming eyes, but of my own eyes.

It looked like fat was spilling out of every open hole in my pants and shirt. What more could I do? The only thing hurting my perfect self-esteem is my issue with body image. I’ll be honest, I haven’t fully overcome my issue, but there are things I regret doing profusely in the process. I have finally decided to let myself grow first. I’m not done yet and I can’t determine what’s too large or too wide until I’m done. I’ve thought about asking for help from my family, but they don’t give me the kind of feedback I need.

My issue with body image isn’t a physical thing, it’s a mental thing. I’m not worried about the number on the scale. I’m worried about the way my shirt clings to my boobs and the way my pants stick to my thighs like white on rice. This problem isn’t something I can fix with trips to the gym and healthier eating.

Seeking the Answers

I am being told by society that I’m an extremely sexual person. What does that even mean? To me, it makes me uncomfortable with the body I have. That my butt appears to have more of a brain than my head does. Because my butt is so large, is it what will attract people toward me like a magnet? Are you saying I don’t need to continue enhancing my knowledge? Growing my character? I can simply carry my butt around and display it like a business card in order to excel? I think not.

I know comparing myself to others is not a good choice for me. But it is a teenager’s natural state of mind. That is why every day I remind myself, be patient, and give yourself time to grow; you’re simply not done yet.