I have body dysmorphia. For those of you that don’t know what that is, the definition is :
Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD), occasionally still called dysmorphophobia, is a mental disorder characterized by the obsessive idea that some aspect of one’s own body part or appearance is severely flawed and warrants exceptional measures to hide or fix their dysmorphic part on their person.
I’m pretty sure it started when I was little…my mom would start sentences with “You would be perfect if you didn’t ( fill in the blank) …….” or “I suppose this means you’ll never be Miss America….” when talking about something I did or ate. Not to mention how we are constantly being bombarded with weight loss ads and what the idea of perfection should look like. Everyone screaming which diet is best for which body and what workout gets you shredded the fastest. Now it seems like every person you know is a personal trainer because there is such a need for them. It just gets worse as we age and the anxiety over it all gets harder to deal with.
I’m 5’2″. There was a point in my life when I was obese. I was in my early 20’s and I had been married a few years. I was fat and happy. I didn’t even realize I was as large as I was until one day someone described me as “Heavy Set”. I was MORTIFIED. Was she really talking about ME?? The same day, I was at work and someone told me I looked like Rosie O’Donnell…WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK?? I remember finishing my cheeseburger and fries and then heading straight to Nutrisystem. Seriously…. I mean, I didn’t want to let that food go to waste…how do you think I got to be a size 18 in the first place? In the space of the next 3 months I lost 40lbs. I did it with drugs. Phen-fen. And I ate healthy. And then I got pregnant. I weighed less when I gave birth than when I walked into Nutrisystem that day. That was insane. But it started a vicious cycle that I still struggle with every single day.
When I look in the mirror every day I still see that fat 23 year old girl. No matter how much weight I lose or gain, she’s still the one looking back at me every morning. It’s her arms I hate. Her muffin top that never goes away. That bitch stays with me 24/7. And it’s not just her body, it’s her face. And I despise her. She’s disgusting. I’ve spent thousands of dollars to try and get rid of her. Diet programs. So many I lost count years ago. Pills. Shakes. Meals. Supplements. Sweat suits. Gym memberships. If it’s out there I’ve tried it. I’ve had plastic surgery, more than once. Tummy tuck, breast reduction, breast implants, liposuction. Next up I have a Brazilian butt lift on the schedule in November. This might sound insane to the majority, but in my head it’s just the norm. I realize that perfection isn’t possible, but I also know that I don’t have to look like a potato forever, either. YOLO MF.
Then there’s FOOD. I love carbs. Potatoes are my most favorite food ever. I get that carbs are the devil blah blah blah and but DAMMIT. Shouldn’t we have invented a magic pill by now… I mean FUCK. There is so much conflicting information out there now on what’s the best way to eat and why that my head spins. I swear I change my mind on how I’m going to approach it every week. It makes my head hurt. What I am sure of is gluten isn’t my friend so I steer clear of that. I’m not a HUGE fan of animal protein so I struggle with protein, too. Lucky me. If I could just drink every meal and it tasted good I swear I would do that. My life would be so much easier.
Anyway, the whole point of this was just to let other people know that you aren’t alone. I look at other women every day and I wonder if they look in the mirror in the morning and have the same struggles that I do. I wonder if they wish they looked different. I hate working out. HATE IT. I’d love for someone to figure out how to motivate me to do it more often. Of course it feels great when I do it. I just don’t want to. Judge away fuckers. I want instant gratification. So sue me. The point is to love the body you’re in. I just have to work on making that happen.