I've spent a lot of my recent time in my own head. I always have a lot of thoughts and sometimes it can take me a while to sort through them and what they really mean to me. Sometimes I want to keep my thoughts to myself, sometimes I want to share them. This is one of the sharing times, as if that wasn't obvious enough by the fact that I'm writing my thoughts to share on my blog.
Weight has been an issue for me for a long time. For almost as long as I can remember, I've had some kind of issue with my body. I went to an elementary school that had a swimming pool to teach the kids how to swim. I clearly remember the little leopard print 2 piece, not-quite-bikini, that I got to wear for swimming class and I remember how much I loved it. I was so excited to wear it and play in the water. I remember strutting out to the pool area from the changing room, full of confidence and excitement. That is the first time I really became aware of my scars.
When I was born, my kidneys didn't function. The doctors worked hard and managed to get one up and running, but not the other. You can get by just fine with one though, so they patched me up and let mom take me home after I had recovered from the surgeries. They weren't sure I would live long. 6 months maybe. When I made it well past that, my parents were told not to let me play any contact spots for fear a flying ball may hit my working kidney and I could die.
I had 2 major surgeries in my first 2 weeks of life. In order to get to my kidneys working and save my life, they had to make large incisions along my sides, and affixed tubes into my back. This caused 4 very noticeable scars along my midsection. Long scars on my sides, and 2 smaller scars on my back, what my eventual friends would lovingly refer to as my "back buttons", because they kind of resemble a belly button. My eventual friends were kind. The kids at the pool were not.
I honestly don't remember anything that was said, but I know from that moment forward I was ashamed of my body. I felt like a freak. I thought something was wrong with me and had to be hidden. It was hard enough being a girl named Muscles, but add in feeling like I had a deformity... My childhood confidence was shot and I became a shy little girl trying to hide by becoming a tom-boy.
I did eventually start dating, and I even had a couple of boyfriends in my high school years, but I still felt incredibly self conscious. I didn't wear bikinis like my friends. I didn't wear dresses, save for a few dances here and there. I started to gain weight. I hated my body. I always thought my friends were prettier than I was.
As an adult, I've gone up and down in weight and sizes. I've been fit(ter), and fat(ter). I have worn dresses and skirts but don't like wearing pants because of the sound they make when my thighs rub together as I walk. I have owned exactly 2 bikinis in my life. One is a gift from my cousin that I have never worn, and one I bought myself, but only wore with tank tops over it, to cover my middle bit. I would love to wear a bikini without fear or shame. I want to feel like a normal girl.
But I don't. I'm not comfortable with my body. Right now I am working on changing that, but it's been an incredibly difficult journey. I've spent too many days crying in front of my closet because nothing fits right or looks right or makes me feel pretty.
There have been moments in my adult life that I have felt pretty good about myself. I have felt stylish, pretty and even sexy on occasion. I have worked out and lost weight numerous times, though I've never hit my "goal". The weight comes back with a vengeance and I spiral further into my self-hatred. I've never fully loved myself. I love the person I am but I still hold this hatred in my heart for my body.
Even though these scars are the reason I'm alive today...even though I don't want to care about what other people think...even though I have a man that loves me completely as I am...I'm still struggling with my own self acceptance.
When I'm getting dressed at the gym, behind a locked door, completely alone, I think about how to dress most efficiently. Underwear first obviously, then shirt since my middle is what I dislike most, then my pants. I do this in case of emergency. What if there was a fire in the building and someone came bursting through the door to save me? What would they think when they saw my misshapen body? I make sure to dress my most important parts first, to avoid any possible embarrassment. I even put the door stop in front of the door to try and stop anyone from accidentally opening the door and seeing me in my most vulnerable state.
What the hell?! Why am I thinking about that? If someone was really busting through a locked door to save someones life in the event of a fire, do I really think they would stop and be like "Whoa! What's wrong with you?!"
No. I don't really believe that. At least that's what I want to say. I still act as if it's true though. I do believe that I have a weird shaped body. The scars in my sides look like fat rolls. The scars on my back accentuate my extra weight. I think I have a pretty face, when I wear makeup. I have nice nails, when they're not all broken and chipped. I have nice hair, when it's freshly washed. It makes me sad that I feel this way about myself. I wouldn't talk to a friend the way I talk to myself. I wouldn't let a friend talk to themselves the way I talk to myself.
I avoid seeing people that haven't seen me since my latest weight gain. I'm afraid of what they will think of me. I forget that people care about me, and not about what I look like or how much I weigh or what size I wear. I don't believe that I can wear fashionable things because of my size and shape. I miss out on opportunities because I don't feel fit enough to participate. I shy away and try to hide because I don't want pictures taken of me. I don't take many pictures of myself other than the occasional selfie, and lately even those make me sad. I can see the weight in my cheeks and neck. I don't want anyone to see me the way I am right now. I want to fix myself first.
I am not writing this for sympathy. I am writing this to shed some light on a different experience. I'm writing this to get it out of my system. I have spent my entire life worrying about my body and what it looks like to others. And I am so fucking over it! I love the person I am. I love who I am becoming. I love my life!
Now it's time to love myself. Completely. I don't know what it will take to make that happen because I've tried before and didn't seem to get there ( I have a feeling this time is different). I'm doing everything I can right now. And it's hard. I work full time, I commute 3 hours a day, I lost my grampy and am still grieving that. I could go on and on.
We all have excuses. I'm not going to let mine stop me anymore. I will love myself unconditionally. I will treat myself with love and kindness. I will do the things that I know are good for me and stop doing the things I know aren't (....mostly....I mean, moderation is key right?). I will continue to seek out new information that will help me on my journey. I will surround myself with loving people. I will achieve my goals.
I am achieving my goals.
I will not give up.
Oh, and I'm totally going to wear a leopard print bikini for my birthday this year.
