Whenever I look at my body, I cringe in disgust. I hate what I see. I hate how my skin folds and hangs. I hate how my stomach bulges over my shorts, or how my shirts wrap tightly around my arms. I hate how my legs are squeezed inside pants, and how my hair is constantly frizzy and untamed.
I often catch myself dwelling on negative body image thoughts. I ruminate on what I hate most about myself, and my way out of the overwhelming hopelessness that I am study in this body forever is with the hope that a new diet or exercise plan brings. In my mind, as long as I stick to my plan, not only am I worthy of love and connection, but I will be enough for myself.
My shyness stems from my inferiority complex and self-loathing. I don't feel worthy of the attention others give me, nor do I feel like anyone will listen to me if I still look the way that I do. In my mind, if I look differently, I will then be worthy to have a voice and an opinion. Only then, will I be enough to inspire hope and power in those around me.
But not yet. Only after I endure grueling years of self abuse and torture, drowned by the depreciating voices in my mind telling me I'm not enough.
How can I be a martyr for change and strength when I am drowning in my own self-loathing? How can I inspire people to challenge their automatic appraisals when I am controlled by mine? It all seems so hypocritical and I feel stuck.
But, does it really matter if in this moment I have a 6-pack? Or toned, lean arms? Or flawless skin that is beautifully bronzed? I don't want my goal in life to be a figure of beauty that is consumed by others. What about my substance, what about all the parts of me that are so much deeper than just my outer shell.
As I learn to see the beauty in my authentic self, I am learning to challenge these thoughts and actions. I am learning to embrace the me I was always meant to be.
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