i wonder, how much time do men focus on hating their body? i'm talking, full on hating. staring in a store window as they pass, thinking, "i really have got to start working out at the gym more" or "my hair looks awful" or "i look like shit, everyone must know." really, how much time? why do women spend so much time hating themselves?
i hate these generalization articles about self-image and eating disorders and that sort of shit, and i know all women do not feel that way, and in fact, i generally consider myself pretty happy with how i look. but for some reason lately, i've either been gaining weight in my tummy or i'm bloated (it may be a combination of both) but whenever i zipper up a formally comfortable skirt to find it snug, or see my reflection in a mirror, i get self-conscious and hating.
you know what? i hate when my friends complain about their thighs. when my aunt says, "you can eat as much cake; look at you. you're nothing." i hate when my mother hates her body. i hate when my friends hate their body. i hate their complaining; i know they are beautiful and wonderful women and i don't see their flaws. no, no one sees your flaws like you see them--if they do indeed exist.
in college, most of the time i ran track, i labeled myself "the fattest fastest girl on the team." i was hardly fat--when i was on the pill, i was in the 120s. yes, 120 pounds and i was the fattest. my coach was good at making us feel insecure over everything we ate.
i got sick--really sick--my senior year of college. a horrible case of sinusitis meant running was hellishly impossible and i constantly felt nauseas. the only thing i could seem to keep down was rice check. i would have a small bowl once or twice a day, sleep a lot, drag myself around.
yet, it was astounding at how everyone kept telling me, "you look so good," "how did you lose that weight?" and worst of all--"i wish i got what you got so i wouldn't eat." they didn't seem to understand at how merely going to my two classes and part-time job was hell; a 40 minute run required a nap afterwards and i was constantly suffering. but i looked good; because skinny=good. skinny=pretty.
i'm hating a lot lately because i can't fit into some of my really rad clothes--that's really the main reason. all my weight gathers in my stomach, and previously loose/comfortable clothing is no longer. it makes me sad. i lost a lot of weight during training for my first marathon when i ran much less; now, i think, during my marathon training last autumn, i probably gained weight.
i don't want to be obsessive. i don't believe in diets. i think dieting is bullshit and unhealthy. still, i'd like to lose my pudge. i know my problem; i indulge in too many sweets.
worse than hearing those i love hating their bodies, i hate them talking about dieting. about being on a diet. "you're beautiful, you're not fat! that's unhealthy!" i think my metabolism has slowed down as i eat a lot less than i used to but still weigh more. in the past few years, i have greatly minimized the amount of processed food i eat. i buy very few packaged meals--cereal, powerbars, etc.--but i definitely do not eat any trans fats and try to minimize the amount of high fructose corn syrup i take in (which is in my beloved gatorade).
but what to do...how can i make myself happy with what i see in the mirror? how can i make myself feel okay in the presence of my friends--instead of staring at their seemingly perfect bodies and lovely flat tummies, wishing i had them? how can i learn to just love myself and stop wasting time on this bullshit of self-hate?