I loathe my own reflection

Ever since I hit puberty, around 13, I’ve had an extremely unhealthy relationship with my body. From what most already know, this is very common for most teenagers, mostly teenage girls. Our culture consistently pushes unrealistic beauty and social standards on young women that are not attainable without turning to an eating disorder or plastic surgery; I like food and I’m too poor for plastic surgery.

I began gaining weight steadily once my metabolism began slowing down and my hormones went awry. It didn’t help that I was becoming more and more emotionally unstable due to undiagnosed mental health conditions. I was further made to feel guilty about my body everyday in school, because I took dance classes and wasn’t a stick in the least bit. I went straight to a C-cup in bra size and my curves became more prominent. Although there is beauty and excitement behind becoming a woman, I sure as hell didn’t see it when trying on clothes or changing for class.

I look in the mirror now, and see an alien. I have zero acceptance of my body the way it is. I feel invisible but yet, always too much for every situation. Shopping is a nightmare and has been for many years. I’ve burst into tears many times in dressing rooms. I wanted to wear fashionable clothes, and instead I had to wear horrible plus sized clothing that 60 year old women in remote towns thought was fashionable. I felt so obviously, and painfully, fat. I still do. I try so very hard to practice acceptance and to say that people will have to like me how I am, but even I don’t like me.

There’s not one part of myself that is appealing, when I look in the mirror. I feel foreign and gross. I touch my skin and it disgusts me. I’ve attempted to diet and exercise so many times now, it’s exhausting. I’ve even taken anti-epileptic medications to shrink my appetite. I actually lost 30lb that time, and felt good for once, but I couldn’t afford the meds anymore. People around me actually complimented me on losing the weight, but then always had a jealous remark that followed. That shows how obsessed with weight our culture is. It’s ingrained into our psyche.

I feel like I will hate myself until I lose at least 100lb, and even then, I doubt my ability to see any beauty. I’m almost 30 and I think about having a baby pretty regularly, but know that being pregnant while obese is unhealthy. I battle mental health issues and also the weight put on by the medications I need to operate each day. I have sleep problems which make me tired on a persistent basis. I feel stuck in a constant cycle of being fat. It feels hopeless. I know what needs to be done, but I don’t do it, for whatever reason in that moment. My future rides on losing weight and I cannot manage.

It feels so suffocating.

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4 thoughts on “I loathe my own reflection

  1. I can relate to so much of what you said unfortunately. “I look in the mirror now, and see an alien.” That is compltely me and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I weight, I can’t see the image in the mirror as either me or as acceptable. It’s a hard way to live an most people don’t get it. They just offer fly away comments about how everyone hates what they see in the mirror, and all that does for me is cut me off. I know that it is so much more than just not being satisfied and it has the ability to completely take over out lives. I wish I could wave a magic wand and take this away from both of us but hopefully just knowing that someone gets it will be some comfort. I think your post is really well written. It’s a very hard topic to talk about and you have done a superb job.

  2. Let me live in this very moment and know that there is no other. The past is spent and no one has any assurance of what the future brings, I can so relate to your concerns. Your feelings about your body, the shape and lack of ‘good’ shape was my own view of mine. I saw me as an alien. Then, after many years of therapy and DBT training, and even having LAP Band surgery and losing 80lbs, I had maybe the lowest, longest lasting perging experience ever. I felt loster than ever, having no thoughts running thru my head, tears running continuosly. 5 months of walking thru my life this way. I did not lay in bed. I didn’t know what was happening but knew it’d be no better if I stayed under the covers. I continued to reach out for HELP. Eventually finding myself in a Unity Spiritual community. This is not a religious community. It’s a place where I found a connection to my own deepest core. The place where hope still lived. I would like to offer to you and anyone else who’s feeling lost, or alien from self, to check out Unity Spiritual community. I have an awesome relationship with myself today, 2+years later. Oh, it didn’t take me long to begin seeing the real me. The hope that lives in all of us, hidden from ourselves. I also discovered A Course in Miracles. THIS for me IS THE BALM! A new, cleaner way to look at myself, and bringing with it a more honest livable way to look at you, and all else that is. OMGosh, it’s kinda wild seeming at first, cause it’s radically different from all the world has taught. And that’s the Miracle of it! I found that many of the reasons I have been miserable for, ah, all my life, is because I couldn’t get with the ways of the world as I’ve been taught. I came to ACIM with a willingness to reopen my mind, like a newborn, and see things in a way that a newborn does, gosh, tough to explain. I can only say this has brought about a wonderful remembering for me of who I am, who I was created to be, what this world is all about-for real, and how to live in this alien place. It is true, I am an alien here. Check it out, it is only one of so many many paths to the same place, tho this one may just resonate for you too. Look it up! Love to you Sister. I am loving you til you remember you love yourself, entirely. ❤ Peace is attainable here and NOW ( :

  3. I am nearly 60 and I’ve lived my whole life hating my body; this distorted grotesque pile of flesh I call home. The wise ones tell me I need to connect to my body and learn to love it but I retreat in my head and argue where no one can hear me.

    I once told a therapist I wish I had a broken twisted leg so people could see what cripples me, what makes me different and as an expression of my pain. Years of therapy have dictated what I can’t do; I can’t cut, or burn, or overdose… I can’t bleed, I can’t cry in public, I can’t show my pain… I can’t make other people uncomfortable. I’m not even sure why I wanted to show anyone in the first place?

    But now, after years of stuffing that self expression, the need and the want… I’ve packed on the pounds of flesh that further alienates me from this body. I can’t feel it; the pounds, you know, and it’s only when I pass a mirror that I see what I’ve done to myself. I look out the portals of my safe place and see this old fat lumpy woman fronting for me and I’m angered, shocked and I cry. As if I didn’t have enough to contend with?

    The only wisdom life has afforded me is that these pounds, this grotesque shape is finally, my broken twisted self telling the world I’m not okay yet, carefully, very carefully, presented in a safe acceptable way that won’t make THEM feel uncomfortable. I hate me for wanting THEM to know but, also… finally… my perception of me matches their disgust for fat and ugly. I have some validation… sick twisted validation.

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