Part of me doesn't want to be part of that statistic. That I've succumbed to what I've been made to believe I should look like. That I'm letting the media and their unrealistic standards of beauty permeate my subconscious and rattle my self-esteem.
The other part of me just doesn't want to admit that I've gotten fat.
Sure, sure. These days Fat is the new black. Obesity blah blah. McDonald's. Convenience. Genetic modifications. There's something to blame for everything.
I was 120 pounds when I graduated high school. More than that, I was not only thin, but I was athletic and healthy. In short? I was the good kind of hot.
Like everyone else, I gained a lot of weight in college. Then I got a desk job. And then I turned 25 which is basically the milestone for having to pay attention to what's going on or you're going to get wrinkles and a muffin top that won't ever go away.
It's not so much that I want to look like I did when I was eighteen. (Though if I magically woke up with that same body, you can bet your ass I wouldn't complain.) I've also said many, many times that I'd rather be a little bit bigger and have some curves than to be grossly underweight with no rack and a visible ribcage.
What I want is to look in the mirror and not want to cry. I want to not have to re-take photos of myself three times to "get a better angle" or to hide that second chin or wrap a hoodie around me to disguise my arms and stomach. I want to not change my clothes three times before I go somewhere because I'm afraid people will whisper catty remarks behind my back about how she should not be wearing that.
I want for my friends to not complain about how they've moved up to a size 6 or how their life is over if they have to put on anything over a 10. I would kill to be a size 6, shit, a size 10. Even a size 12 again. It's hard to be sympathetic to other peoples' body issues when you envy them for what they do have.
I want to be comfortable. I want to be confident.
Mostly... I'm tired, I'm so very tired, of hating myself.
I'm going to be honest. I don't think I'm unattractive - if I can look past the flaws. I think I'm pretty and I generally have an okay view of myself. I have ridiculously huge blue eyes. I have decent skin. I have great hair that has a lot of potential if I was better trained in how to style it. I have great boobs. I have nice teeth and a pretty smile (thanks, orthodontia!). I have cute little feet. I have healthy, well-shaped fingernails. (Yes, I am searching for things now. I'll take whatever I can get.)
I also practice hard-core image maintenance to make sure that the rest of the world sees what I want to see.
I'll strategically crop photos. I'll delete ones that are horribly unflattering. I'll nudge that second chin into submission in Photoshop so it's realistic and yet doesn't make me want to cringe. So, sure. I like pictures of myself. When I have complete control of them. I pick which ones I post and which ones are "acceptable."
Because the only thing worse than having to look at myself and hate what I see, is the thought of other people judging me and hating what they see.
Because for every thing about myself that I like, there are two that I hate. My upper arms and how wide they are and how they tend to, um, jiggle. How pale my skin is. My bad posture. My thighs and their cellulite. My chubby hands and my stubby little fingers. My beat up legs that have knicks and bruises from God knows what but probably my own uncoordination. How wide my ass is. How my ears sometimes stick out a little bit. That extra layer of skin under my chin. The sound of my voice. How frizzy my hair can get when I don't slather it in product. My hips. My waist. My pant size. My dress size. The fact that I can't buy shirts because if I'm lucky enough to find one to accommodate my breasts, it probably still looks like shit around my stomach. And, the thing I hate most of all: the ubiquitous stomach fat.
The further I go in this list, the closer I am to tears, just sitting at my computer, typing stupid words and naming off body parts.
I was sitting on my bed the other day, post-shower, wrapped in a towel, debating what to wear. Because I am too lazy to put things away, much of my wardrobe was conveniently folded, stacked, or strewn within my range of sight.
Then I looked closer at one of the shirts just laying on top.
And the sheer amount of fabric used to make a shirt that fit me.
This is not okay. It is not okay to hate myself as much as I do.
And I know, I know, the things I should be doing. I need to eat healthier. I need to find time to exercise. I need to go on walks during my lunch break or dig up the Couch to 5K program or try this diet or count those calories.
You know what, though? I struggle with anything that requires a lifestyle change.
It's not that I don't want to, or that I couldn't. But some days, I'm barely emotionally hanging on as it is. If I have to pacify my inner demons by taking a nap rather than taking a walk, I will. If the only thing that makes me feel like I'm going to keep my sanity is half a frozen pizza, I will throw that shit in the oven. I just don't always feel like I've got a good enough grip on myself as it is, without throwing in the emotional instability of uprooting my current (shitty) routine.
And, guys? It's expensive to eat healthy, to live healthy.
And money is just something I don't have.
I make excuses for myself and I know this. I also know that while maybe I'm not genetically predisposed to be thin, I used to be genetically predisposed to carry around much less weight than this. There's some vague term trying to come to the front of my brain from one of my psych classes, I want to say it is something like "regression to the mean" which is a large factor in why a lot of people can't lose weight. Their "mean" (average) body size is set at a certain point, and their body will naturally try to gravitate back to that. So if you are meant to be 145 pounds, and you get down to 120, chances are, you won't stay there. Not because of anything you are doing, but because that is how you are built.
This is only relevant because I feel like my mean size is much lower than where it's at. So there is a point I can get to. There is a point I should be able to reach and maintain without too much difficulty, if I were to try.
The hardest part is getting started, it always is. And I'm going to. I'm going to do something. Because I can't even look at myself anymore and that needs to stop.
Thus concludes our pity party for tonight.