Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Everyone is beautiful to me, except me.

I've always known my weight. I've always cared about my weight. Is it healthy? I'm not so sure.

I look at other girls. I think, "I'm thinner" or "I wish I was thinner." I'm obsessed with the delicate, the tiny, the 18-inch waste, the Barbie doll figure.

I realize that I'm not necessarily "fat" but I'm not necessarily where I want to be. I recently realized that I had reached the unreachable goal weight and I recently realized that I've maintained the unreachable goal weight.

Did I celebrate? Was I satisfied? No, I set a new goal weight.

Look at my pictures. I'm not fat. I've been stepping on a scale since I was seven. I'm not talking about doctors' visits either. I know how much I weighed in third grade, 73 pounds. I know how much I weighed in sixth grade, 100 pounds. I know how much I weighed my senior year of high school, 145 pounds. I know how much I weighed my senior year of college, 140 pounds. I know how much I weight now, 135.


At 5'8" I am currently 135. My goal weight now is 130 and my unreasonable goal weight is 125.

I don't know how much longer I will play this game. I guess I will play till I look thin in my pictures, till I feel un-jiggly, till all those men regret thinking I wasn't good enough. But I'm not so sure that is possible.

With bigger bosoms and chubby upper arms, I have a hard time looking thin in my pictures--looking thin at all. I'm built to be bigger.

The shallow side of me wants to rub my figure in the faces of those who dumped me. Another side of me just wants to set a personal goal, to feel secure at the beach.

And so, I keep telling myself that I'm fat. I keep struggling. But why? I don't understand this aggressive need I have to be the owner of an ideal body.
I complain that I'm fat and friends grow angry, friends that are slightly heavier than me, family members that are slightly heavier than me. I never look at them and think they're fat, think they're unattractive. So, why do I look in the mirror and feel unsatisfied?

Everyone is beautiful to me, except me. I guess we are our worst critics.

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