moments that made me self conscious this week

I try my hardest to pretend like I’m okay with my body. It’s something I wish to perfect, but everytime I start to come close another thing sets me off and I’m uncomfortable all over again. A never ending cycle of self deprication and overthinking that makes me wish I would just stop eating altogether. Here are the most recent moments that resonated with me.

Monday: My mom asked me how much I weigh and I had to admit that I’ve gained weight. Instead of saying something about how I look good, she sighed in relief and made a comment about how she weighs less than me. That alone would have been fine but she followed it with “I was wondering, if she weighs less than me, I must look huge.” Great. Really helping my self image there, mother.

Tuesday: I’ve owned the bulk of my jean shorts since ninth grade, making them about seven years old. Given that time frame, it’s reasonable for me to have grown out of them. That being said, every time I have to put them on I’m drawn again to how they give me a bit of a muffin top and are tight on the tops of my thighs. There was a time that I would put them on and they were almost too big. That is no more.

Wednesday: I ordered a dress. It was in the size I always get and have never had issues with before. I tried it on and almost cried. No matter what I did, it wouldn’t button because my chest is just too big. Not in the “wow, she has big boobs way” but rather the “most of my fat collects in my upper body” way, and it was embarassing. No one else was around to see, but I was.

Thursday: Whenever I go to the doctors they make me step on the scale and it’s always a point of severe anxiety for me. Even if I don’t gain weight, I still have to look at the numbers. This time, I had to face the fact that I’ve gained a significant amount of weight during the past three or four months and it was jarring. They don’t give you time to process, wisking you off down the hallway before you can really see the numbers, but it’s there. So you sit in the cold room on a table thinking about it while waiting for the doctor, wondering which parts of you can be cut off.

Friday: The grandparents came to visit and brought mega stuffed Oreos. This resulted in me eating three and then seeing how many calories were in them. It shouldn’t be that big of a concern, it was only three, but it hit me much harder than it would have if the rest of the week wasn’t as upsetting as it had been. I’m just tired.

How I’m going to face it: I’m not sure yet. I’m taking it one day at a time and trying to remind myself that food is energy and energy is necessary for life. Starving is not the answer.

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