ever since things like body image started mattering, I have struggled with mine. as a child I was always incredibly skinny, a mix of high metabolism, high energy, and regular old genetics. everyone told me how skinny I was. I was my mother’s “skinny mini”. once, when I was thirteen years old, I attempted to fit into a pair of shorts I’d been able to fit into the summer prior. my hips had gotten too big, and I just remember suddenly dissolving into tears at the revelation that I’d outgrown them. at the time, I didn’t know why it upset me so much.
I used to tighten my belts around my waist as far as they could go, until it hurt. I’d suck in my breath and take a picture in the mirror. that became my goal. to look how I did in those images, a sick emulation of what my body could be like.
I skipped meals. got used to the feeling of lightheadedness. sometimes I shoved my fingers down my throat.
I’m not “big” now, by any means. I don’t think I am. but I do have a tummy, stretch marks, and I don’t receive those comments I used to be flooded with. I realised that I wasn’t trying to lose weight because I actually cared about being thin, it was my way of trying to shrink myself into nonexistence. I didn’t want to take up any space, at all.
I had gotten so used to being the skinny one, the one who - even before my sickness - was always asked if she was anorexic, that when I grew out of that, it felt like a loss of identity. -
today, I went shopping. this was a day of buying what fit me, not squeezing into what I thought I should be. it feels like it’s been absolutely forever, but I’m accepting myself as a healthy body - not a warped picture.
#bodypositive #selfacceptance #goodvibes #sorryfortherant #personal #eatingdisorders #recovery #tbdmaybe