That one with the fucked up body image

So I know yesterday I mentioned that I’ve been having some messed up body image issues lately and honestly I’ve been thinking about it far too much.  I am not perfect. I try to live my life happy and positive and not let the negativity creep its way in, but I’m only human. I struggle. And like everyone else I have those days or periods of time where I can’t get out of my own head. Where I let the self-doubt and the body image crap work its way in.  I honestly wish I knew what triggers it so I could try and counteract some of its affects, but it’s ridiculously hard.

So I have to say this is going to be one of THOSE posts.  The ones where I am unnecessarily hard on myself and questioning stupid shit and where someone could quite possibly roll their eyes at me because in the grand scheme of things I know I am better off than not only was I once, but than a lot of people who are struggling themselves.  Yes, sometimes the grass appears greener on the other side.  And I acknowledge that while I sit here and pick myself apart there is most likely someone out their wishing and praying to look like me.  (Although my brain has a hard time comprehending that at this moment in time because of the whole negativity you know)

And of course, that 2 ½ year ago me would be so mad that I still have these issues. That girl would be thrilled to see a photo of myself now and instead of ripping apart all the small minute details would just be thrilled to not wearing size 18/20 venturing into 22 land.  I should put a disclaimer on this entire post that I am not intending to make anyone feel bad about their present place in life. There is nothing wrong with being any weight/shape/size/clothing number.  This is all about me and my personal experiences and where I am at right now.  I am just trying to be real with myself about what I’m feeling.  And to prove that life is not perfect once you find a happier balance in life.  Yes, generally speaking I am very happy and proud and capable.  But I am still only human.  I don’t want to dwell in negative land too long and I’m hoping that by talking out my feelings that I might find some understanding and get over it.

It doesn’t matter what you’ve accomplished or what you presently look like we will always find a way to find fault. You may be mad at your reflection in the mirror wearing size 18 or 20 or whatever the number is.  But I promise you I can still find as much fault wearing my size 6 as I ever did in size 20’s.  Truth.  I’ve really honestly been so good lately the past couple months at acceptance and being happy with myself in the mirror.  I can’t quite understand why this week it has me feeling depressed. Like all I see is the fat and the rolls and the work that I should be doing but yet can’t find the motivation to do. I think perhaps I am punishing myself in my brain for not being able to really follow any sort of manageable food plan. Maybe that is part of it.  Or maybe I think I am getting fat.  I don’t know. I kind of refuse to weigh myself because it is a mean evil thing in my life. As long as my jeans fit, which they still do.  But I can’t help it, I’m still seeing more jiggle and fluff than I am comfortable with in the mirror.

Yes, I really am beyond thankful with how capable and active I am in my life. That my body allows me to do the things it does despite the years of trauma and yo-yo dieting I put it thru.  That I can run mile after mile or lift for hours.  I feel fortunate that I even have the opportunity to live my life as fully as I do.  You want to talk about blessed; there are people out there who have real problems or health issues that would love to be able to just do half of what I do.  Which kind of makes me feel like a jackass for being so whiny about shit.

Sigh. I can’t help it. I wish I could. I should not complain and in my heart I know that I sound like a stupid child for being grumpy over not looking as good as I wish I did.  Come on, there really are bigger problems in this world.  My hormones are just off.  Sigh.

This, these here are the pictures that made me cringe.

I am for some stupid reason really not happy about how I look.  And the worst part is, it could be the angle, it could be the lighting, it could one of a million things and yet I’m choosing to see all the horrible imperfections.  I know I am being ridiculous because it’s a 1000% better than what I have been in my life and honestly better than I could hope for given my history.  And I should point out that I really do love my upper body, my shoulders and arms, etc.  It’s that nasty bottom half. But this is what I get unless I’m really willing to give up like food. I don’t mean starve myself but instead eat chicken and vegetables over and over again with some plain oatmeal thrown in. This is pretty much what it would take to for months to get my body to look anywhere near where I might want it to be. And alas I am not willing to do this. I want to eat pizza. I want to have cupcakes. Hell I even want to have peanut butter or nuts. 

So I’m left being stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Either hate what you see in the mirror or give up food? Neither is appealing.  I mean, sure there is a 3^rd option which is be happy and accept yourself just as you are.  I mean this is the best option and normally this is what I strive for and settle upon but for some reason right now it’s just not cutting it.

There is a tiny part of my brain that thinks this negativity this week stems from the lack of a long run.  It makes sense in some way.  I find my peace and am grounded when I run.  It balances me out and I find myself and all the negativity goes away. I might be missing that a little.  Which is the strongest advocate for why I run.  This is an interesting theory and I guess will be put to the test on Saturday when I run 13.1 miles. If I come away loving myself then I know that is the trick to it all. I suspect it is the trick honestly. I suspect my true answer lies in the run. My self-esteem, my happiness is built during the run.  And as much as I lift or spin or kick or do anything else it will never compare to the torture and pleasure of running.  I feel a little lost and I guess that might be why I am struggling to like myself in photos and the best way I know how to find myself is in the agony of a long run.  It’s my “me” time, my think time, my get in touch with Emily time.  I think I need some more of that. I tend to care a lot less about my appearance when I am running.  It is the one thing that is all mine and mine alone. No one can take it away from me.  It’s my thing. Sure it can be other people’s thing to, but it will never be the exact same thing. It’s just the one thing I identify the most with.  Sure let me squat heavy, or bench press beyond my limits but none of it is “my thing” the way running is. None of it makes me feel as good about myself.

I hate that society has given us unrealistic expectations of beauty and perfection. Perfection doesn’t exist. I hate that something somewhere along the lines has shaped our unrealistic expectations of what we should be.  I hate that I have ever let it affect me. I hate that I have given it as much importance as I have in my life for 11 plus years.  I hate that any of this is still an issue. I hate that I can’t just love and accept and be proud of myself.  (I mostly am) It’s just that I have these moments where I revert to all the negativity.  We are not supposed to be anything but happy and kind to ourselves.  We are supposed to be able to love ourselves as the real flawed people that we are.

I am not supposed to look at a picture of myself and pick it apart and hate the image the way I do.  Because I promise you this every time I took photos and picked them apart, when I gained weight back I looked at that same photo that I remember belittling myself over and thinking how amazing I really did look. And longing to be exactly that person again. Inevitably no matter what hindsight is 20/20.  It’s also all about perspective.  It just depends what way you are looking at it from.  Am I happy with where I am at today as compared to where I was 3 years ago. Hell yes! Am I happy with where I am at today as compare to where I could be if I didn’t eat so much shit? Nope. Perspective.

Sometimes when I look into the mirror during a class at the gym I see a happy healthy fit strong athletic girl.  Sometimes I see a giant tub of lard. There I said it. Sometimes I see a giant fat girl who I am certain everyone else is staring at thinking how much excess fat I have jiggling around.  (These thoughts might have occurred to me last night during classes) They are not productive thoughts. I realize this. But I can’t help it either.

I’m not fishing for compliments. I’m not looking for anyone to confirm that I am in fact a giant mess. I am just figuring out my own issues. Or at least trying to stay true and real to myself.  I know my worth has nothing to do with photographs or mirrors or scales or body fat percentages.  My worth is well beyond that.  But sometimes you just get wrapped up in the head games.