When I see myself naked in the mirror, all I see is a double chin, huge sagging breasts, the body of a beach ball, and wiggly-jiggly cottage cheesy thighs. I know when I lose weight, I will still be saggy and wiggly-jiggly. However, once I have clothes on, I feel better. My anxiety lowers. I can cloak myself in armor and start my day.
The idea of body positivity is alluring. It merely asks that people love their bodies as it is and reject the unrealistic images of perfection. Merely. Ha! This is harder than it sounds.
I have to constantly remind myself that even at 288 pounds, I am worthy of friendship, companionship and dare I say, someone to love me. And no, I don’t have to love myself for someone to love me. But I do have to believe that I am lovable so I can accept that someone loves me. And this is hard for me to believe. Over the years, I have heard people say horrid things about me because I am fat. In fact, I was once told by someone that I was good enough to fuck but not to date. And that is easy for me to believe.
On the other hand, I know I have many friends who love me and accept me for who I am. They tolerate my neurosis. They cheer an support me on my crazy journey. And they don’t criticize me when I fail.
But the unworthy part of me doesn’t understand why I am so blessed. Often, when I hear my friends’ positivity towards me, that nasty mean voice in my head says, “Yeah, right. Remember, you aren’t good enough to date, let alone love.” I have finally learned to just say, “Thank you.”
So, I have decided to do something radical. I have decided to reject the negative narrative about me and deny my own body dysmorphia. I have decided to believe my friends. I have decided to love myself. Starting tomorrow, when I get out of the shower, I will look at myself naked. I will say, “I love you.” And I hope soon, I will believe it.