Uncomfortable Realization (part 1)

Must... get... better... at... BLOGGING.


Must stop being hyper critical of myself. Must stop worrying about being judged. 


I seriously have 4 or 5 posts in my drafts box from the last two weeks, because I'll start to write, then get nervous that I sound really stupid or am just not making sense... or that what I'm writing isn't important. I have a LOT that I've been wanting to blog about, I just end up feeling stupid when I sit down to write...


Anyways, I've had this realization that I've been meaning to write about/ponder. I don't think anyone likes being uncomfortable; but I absolute cannot stand it. I'm not talking about physical pain (which, ironically enough, I am very good at tolerating physical pain), but moreso emotional uncomfortableness. 


What made me realize this is the fact that I do not feel comfortable in my body; I don't think I've ever felt comfortable in my body. The irrationalness has been thinking along the lines if you just get small enough, if you just get thin enough, you WILL feel comfortable in your body. 


I became aware at age 4 that I was overweight, and that it was not desirable. I felt uncomfortable at age 4, in my body. Year after year, I thought that if I could get out of my pudgey little body and be a skinny, pretty little girl, I'd be happier and more confident, and that my classmates would like me. I was ashamed of being fat; I thought I was ugly. I was teased a lot. I became shyer and shyer, more introverted, because I was teased. I was obese by 13; I'd spend hours in front of the mirror, pinching my fat rolls and thinking if only I were thin enough to feel good and confident in my body, life would be so much better. At age 15, things changed; in less than a year, I went from obese to underweight. The damage had already been done by this point...


...I spent such a little amount of time at an actual "healthy" weight that I never really got a good look at myself as to what healthy should be. It doesn't matter; even underweight, I have nasty reminders that continue to distort the image I see in the mirror.


I have stretch marks. EVERYWHERE. All over my stomach, my thighs, the inside of my arms, my chest... yeah. Everywhere. They're disgusting. They make me want to rip my skin off. I don't have a valid excuse; I'd wear stretch marks with pride if I could say that my skin stretched to accommodate a baby. But it didn't; some of these stretch marks appeared before I could even get pregnant. How freaking sad is that?


It's fucking torture to have to look in the mirror, to desperately want to see what everyone else apparently sees... but have it ruined by the fact that my body is laced in stretch marks, a constant reminder of how big I once was, and constantly distorting my body image... 


How does that relate to me being uncomfortable? Because of how it's tricking me into thinking I'm still fat, when I'm obviously not. 


It makes me laugh, in a macabre sort of way, that there's those thinspo groups out there promoting ED's as a way of life, saying that "once you're thin enough, you can wear skimpy clothing, ect." Ha... newsflash, people: it does NOT matter how fucking skinny you get, you're still going to feel like a fat ass. I use to fantasize about wearing tight/revealing clothing once I was "thin enough"... and still sometimes do. But the reality is, I hide my body. I'm thoroughly ashamed of it. I still think I'm too fat (despite knowing otherwise) to be wearing form fitting or revealing clothing. Heck, that's one reason I love cold weather so much; it means I can hide in layers and hoodies. 


Bottom line is, I still feel very uncomfortable in my body, and it makes me excessively anxious... hence me turning to manage it in some not so practical ways...