I always tell women how beautiful their figures are. I think plus sized models are GORGEOUS, they’re bigger but shaped in such a feminine, pretty way. I’m a rather thin girl with both large hips and breasts, but rarely am I thin enough in my own eyes. Here I am preaching how beautiful it is to be bigger, but I’m obsessed with my own weight.
A few years ago, about 5 of them, I hated myself and my life. I seen anorexia as beautiful. It was how I dreamed of looking, I never did become anorexic, but I did starve myself. I’d go without eating until I became dizzy and lightheaded. I ate, but not large portions. More like, about half of what I should’ve. That was the easy part, the people around me never said anything because they didnt notice. I’m not blaming anyone but myself, but I wish I would’ve had my own view of beauty back in that particular portion of my life.
Now, here’s the catch, I see my life and my body as beautiful. But I that number on the scale tell me if I’m good enough. 4-5 years ago I was the same height and weight, 2-3 years ago I grew an inch taller but gained 3 pounds. “It’s no big deal, it’s just that scale” I told myself. At the beginning of this last summer, I weighed myself and was yet another 5 pounds. I loved my figure until that moment, a part of me broke down, my confidence was melting. As a result? I lost 10 before school could roll back around. lately, I haven’t been working out at all and I’m slacking on my nutrition (which is surprising cause I tend to be a health freak). I know nobody else’s notices these changes because they’re very subtle, but it kills me. If I’m not perfect, I’m not good enough.