I’m bawling my eyes out right now whilst I write this….a part of me got triggered yesterday. In fact, I think it a very HUGE and WOUNDED part….:(
I saw a girl/young-ish woman probably 30-something in the supermarket. I was at the normal checkout with an actual human serving me ( I like to be served by an actual human); she was at a self service facing my checkout. Her hair was styled perfectly, clipped back intentionally unperfectly, with a middle parting, two loose curls that had probably been meticulously curled with a tong, hanging on either side framing her face Her make up was immaculate; her eyelashes may have been fake as they were prominent but not spider-like. But she looked attractive, my definition of atttractive anyway. I, on the other hand, was wearing zero make up. I hadn’t straightened my hair that morning and instead quickly scrunch dried it into a curly mess ( I have natural curls). Some of it is greying although I have much more black and just a dusting of grey. Most of my grey is visible when I tie my hair back – it’s near my temples and around the back of my head. Anyway, I looked over at her and immediately felt insecure at her seeming perfection and attractiveness and my imperfection. I felt unattractive, ugly and old. Who is going to want me compared to that (yes I am “single” – fucking societal labels that make you feel like shit). I kept glancing over at her and then averting my eyes, not wanting to make it obvious that I was looking at her. I couldn’t help but feel like shit, an ugly aging old mess.
To compund the shitty feelings, this morning I gave up on my exercise routine – the vestiges of feeling unattractive and shitty had infiltrated into today, and this morning it became more about “how come I haven’t lost any weight?” and “when am I going to have the perfect tone body?” rather than doing it for health reasons and fun. The weight-loss body perfection program is always there running in the background. And when it takes over, I disintegrate, although masochistically, I want it to control me so I never “let myself go”. I berate myself for not having stuck with the workout programs or yoga for a sustained period of time – if I had, I’ve have the perfect toned body and then I can be loved. I’ve spiralled this morning and been crying – writing this down is actually cathartic for me. I didn’t even do the avocado on toast with paoched eggs that I was looking forward to. Why should I put food into a body that has extra kilos on it? I know I have hit the self-destruct button today.
I used to be gorgeous in my 30’s (having gained quite a lot of weigh in 20’s). Someone once said I looked like a mini Nicole Scherzinger (the pre-botox and pre-lip filler version). I’d lost loads of weight back in 2009 and the lightest I had ever been in my life – a UK size 6 (US size 2), at age 34. (btw I’m not very tall only 152cm). I actually had a Ted Baker size 0 dress (I still have it actually to remind me how small I was). I looked and felt beautiful and I used to get noticed all of the time by men and women. I recall one time when I was sitting in train station cafe and man walked past me from close by. I noticed him. A few moments later he walked past me again. Then when he walked past for a third time, I couldn’t help but break into a smile and laugh. He came up up to me and told me that he couldn’t help but notice me as I was “so pretty”, and asked if I was “avaialble” which I was at the time having just ended a mini 4 month “relationship” which was the norm for me back then (that was to meet someone, put my heart into them way too soon and then to feel heart broken as they turned out to be piss ants of sorts). Although we exchanged phone numbers and got chatting for a short while, I knocked the offer of a date back (feeling sore and raw from the previous break up). He was a sweet guy and looking back, I think I might have been happy with him…the one that got away….I think about him from time to time. He could have been my forever man…:-/
Back then I was slim, attractive with my long flowing black hair and I used to accentuate my looks with minimal make up – mascara, black eyeliner, a tiny bit of rouge, barely there make up and neutral lip gloss. It was a great minimal look and I wore it well. I thought that my looks were the the answer to my prayers – slim and beautiful – and that it would bring me joy and happiness. But I was still heavily insecure, constantly worried about gaining weight. Ironically it wasn’t the answer to my prayers and I never found the love of my life I was looking for. I was in and out of mini 3-4 month ‘relationships’ for years, steadfastly on the online-dating gravy train. Now I’m about 4 kgs or so heavier (that about 8-10 pounds in old money), I’m older, more grey, pushing 50, can’t be bothered to look try to “look beautiful” and feel like I’m trying to compete with the world of feminine beauty. I fucking hate feeling like this! 🙁 How can you be loved if you’re not slim and beautiful? And there’s always going to be someone more beautiful, better looking and with a better body isn’t there? So where do you draw the line of enough?
I digress. There is such a big part of me that has had body image issues for a long time but gotten worse, rather than better, with age. I find myself fighting with this part when it surfaces. Perhaps I need to sit with it and welcome it rather than fight with it? My aunts use to tease me as child for being ugly and looking like my ugly father, that I had dark skin, a big nose and squnity eyes (just as he does although I’ve never met him- unwanted girl child – rife in the Indian culture). As a teenager my mother (who is naturally stick thin and always has been) used to mildly berate me about my “plobby bits” (love handles) and big belly, and ask me why have I got these “plobby bits” and am I going to do anything about it. On top of that I was teased at school by cruel, bitchy teenagers, telling boys who I fancied that I liked them and they would literally go running or sulk with their head in their hands. So there’s my wounded child part who has low self-worth and self-esteem, and doesn’t know how she can be loved unless she’s considered beautiful and slim. How can another man love me if there’s always going to be someone more beautiful and slimmer? I don’t know how this part is going to get healed I really don’t. She’s been there for a looooong time running the show. How do I validate her when we live in a world that is obsessed with the ideal image of a woman’s beauty. How do I accept myself and put this wounded part of me to rest? How do I allow myself to ‘be’ without becoming a product of soceital norms (although I would never, ever have botox, fillers or any poison like that)? How can I be beautiful just being me?
How am I ever going to accept myself?
If baring my soul to you (and the world) has moved or touched a part of you in any way, then your support would be very welcome. To help me on this healing journey, perhaps you’d like to buy me a coffee (although mines a tea) via the link below:
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