Self-Esteem Awareness Month: August 10, Part Deux (Introspection)

OK, my current task is to reflect and write about my relationship with my body, as well as the experiences that have shaped it. That's a lot, so please bear with me as this will likely end up long.

The very first experiences that come to mind when I think of my body are always negative. At least, when I think chronologically. I think of all of the childhood teasing - especially the day in 4th grade where everyone found out my actual weight and tormented me endlessly for it. The time my dance school actually posted a sign saying you were only allowed at a Nutcracker audition if you were thin. The time I bought a purple dress and my mom told me my butt looked like a shelf. Lots of other things I don't have the energy to process right now.

I can also think about the things I've done to myself. The times when I assumed things happening around me were because of my body. When, 99% of the time they weren't, I would think that something bad had happened to me because I was too fat. When I thought people cared what I looked like a whole lot more than they probably really did.

Also the binge eating. I've struggled with that for a long time, but I didn't realize that's what I was doing until a couple of years ago. I still struggle to separate actual hunger from a desire to binge for comfort. And no, this isn't simply stress eating or comfort food. This is a sense I can't really describe to someone who hasn't felt it; it's this sense of a total lack of control and an inability to stop what I'm doing no matter how much I know I will regret it, how sick I may feel, or what it may do to my self worth. I've been controlling it pretty well lately, but I still feel the urge every know and then - and I know if I indulge it then it can only go downhill from there, so I try not to.

On to the good stuff. I started reading fat acceptance and feminist blogs (the latter are not always bastions of size friendliness, especially in comments). I started reading FA and feminist books. I interned at BUST (yes, that really did help). I stopped dieting. I tell people (ie my mom) that I don't want to talk about weight loss - not that it works. I get angry at places that don't carry my size instead of lamenting how I can't get enough weight off to fit in them. I get mad when "comedians" make fat jokes (by the way? Suck it, Conan).

I've made a lot of headway on the arduous road of loving myself. I'm not anywhere near there yet, but I'm a hell of a lot farther along than I was even a year ago. I'm stuck in a place where all of the facts and theories make perfect sense but I have a disconnect at the point where I'd turn the love onto my own body. While I've moved past the desire to lose weight, I am still not quite to liking what I see in the mirror, especially when it's the bathroom mirror and I'm about to get in the shower. But I'm on my way. I'll get there.