The Bible preaches us to love our body, and Lord I am telling you I try my very hardest to love my body. I watch reassuring campaign adds to build my confidence and I post pictures on Instagram with pleasing quotes to promote positive body image, yet I can’t seem to truly embody these ideals. I just can’t find the strength to do it. Why can’t I? Does this make me look dismal, more vulnerable? Even more important, does this make me look weak?
I don’t know what I see when I look at myself. Often times it’s a short, petite brunette who has a smile plastered on her face. My smile is my best friend; it welcomes others and hides all of the secrets that I have to share. Clothes cover up my body trying their best to not hug the skin that they cover as if the clothes might repulse the skin they touch.
Is that the way you all feel? Or am I the only one? Someone, please tell me. I don’t know if it’s just me because everyone else seems to be incredibly well.
When tight V-necks are grabbed from the clothing rack you can almost hear them screaming, “no, please no.” Dresses call my name like a shining light from above; they truly are a safe haven. Underneath my flowing dress, the mountains of self-worth and confidence hide from the light trying their best not to be seen. It’s as if they know when they reach the surface, they will be confronted by thousands of unrealistic images displaying withered bodies or mounds of chocolate Oreo ice cream that beg to be eaten. The concept of having a certain type of body type runs from my brain and instead illusions of this ideal figure cloud my thoughts. The challenge to choose between right and wrong is a fight I face every day, in fact, every moment if you’re looking for specifics. Mirrors are the enemy when I want them to be; they break me down and tell me I’m worth nothing. But when I feel as though I look “beautiful” I use this mirror to build me up, suck my stomach in to see what I would look like if I was a little bit skinnier, and I let the mirror determine my worth. How stupid is that? I am constantly losing this battle because truth be told, I don’t know the difference between what is right and what is wrong.
Let me tell you something, I am NOT weak. I am strong. I made it through my freshman year of college one thousand miles away from my beloved home, I’ve dealt with the fear of being alone without anyone, I have watched my heart be torn to pieces by my first love then managed to piece it back together again. Trust me, I am not weak.
So why do I feel this way? Why do I question myself constantly? What am I supposed to do to get someone, anyone’s attention? Can’t you see that this letter is full of questions that I need to know the answers to!? Why aren’t you listening?I’m writing this letter at one hundred miles an hour, trying to get all of my thoughts onto paper before I run out of the guts to write it down in the first place.
Back to the Oreo ice cream and that semi-decent body that I want so desperately: why can’t I have both? Why can’t I go on a beach, enjoy some ice cream and feel okay in a bathing suit? I know that men won’t look at me the same way, I know that eyes will fixate on me since my boobs can’t help but fall out of my swim suit, and I know that no matter how hard I try to stop it, my own eyes will be envisioning a large cow with a bathing suit on rather than a small girl in a bathing suit. But why can’t I simply be happy?
I’m not fat; I know I’m not. I know that when I look in the mirror I am a small, petite girl. And to some this writing, this response, or however you wish to categorize it, is just plain ignorant. But all I need to do is get my thoughts onto paper because there must be someone who feels the same way as me. This feeling inside of me keeps growing, but I can’t seem to pin down exactly what this “feeling “is.
I am a three-year-old learning the difference between right and wrong, but there is no telling which is which. So how am I supposed to learn?