Why I'm Not Skinny Enough

Girls like me aren't supposed to have issues like this. I'm supposed to look at my size 10 jeans and think, "It's okay, I'm five foot nine, and it's mostly muscle..."

This is me, doing my favorite thing. A couple weeks ago, I started running again... 3 times a week. My friends are planning to participate in a race in January and I'm hoping to run with them. And yet, every time I finish my run I end up in the bathroom, naked and disappointed. I mean I just ran THREE MILES! The fat should melt off!...

sigh...

And then I'm ashamed that I am such an ass. I should not be complaining about my body. I should not have such a negative opinion about my body. I should just wake up and enjoy this body because one day I won't have it anymore.

should, should, should... so yeah, I beat myself up because I hate how I feel. I hate the way the world has programed me to feel. 

Some background.

This is me, five years ago. I weigh nearly 30 pounds less in this picture. I had just been through some difficult stuff that lasted for several years. I went to the doctor one day, convinced there was something horribly wrong with me, convinced I was probably dying. My doctor told me I was having panic attacks, some that lasted for days. (Thinking about this makes me nauseous... makes me want to lay down and hide... pushing publish, I hope will be liberating) They put me on lorazepam and scheduled me to see a psychiatrist. 

I couldn't handle the drug... the side effects were awful, so I stopped taking them. I needed a different way to cope.

As a vegetarian I often need to defend my diet and prove that I get enough protein... I started tracking everything I ate so I could post on days I ate 115 grams of all veggie protein and smile :) Of course, I also had the chance to see all of the 700 calorie days. I noticed that if I ate, I was more likely to have panic attacks. So I ate less. And when times got rough, I ate A LOT less. 

More background.

Me and my "date" for senior prom :) 

I grew up surrounded by women who struggled with their weight. Two memories always stick out when I reflect on my body image.

I remember a day at the beach with some of the women in my family and their friends. There was also a large woman in a bathing suit enjoying a day at the beach. I listened as the adults in my party remarked on the other woman's bathing suit choice:

"Does she even know what she looks like?"

"Ewww, I don't want to look at that!"

"This is just indecent."

Oh, and laughter... 

I was young. I couldn't really understand why the women I was with would say such things about another woman... one who looked much like them. It became one of many memories that I filed away to figure out later.

I was much younger for this other memory. I drew a picture at school of my mother and myself cuddling. Under the picture I wrote, "I like cuddling with my mom, she is squishy."

We used to laugh about this... I think I spelled "squishy" without vowels ;) 

But now it makes me want to cry.

As a kid, I knew my mom was perfect. Even the parts of her that she wanted to change, the parts of her that the world rejected. Though my mom was a full figured woman I saw nothing but love in her. I accepted every inch of her and found value in every part of her.

So, to hear my mother criticize her own body or talk negatively of the bodies of others confused me.

Over time that confusion slipped away and I accepted that this is how things are. We should not accept our bodies. If there is any fat on my body, then I am eating too much and not exercising enough. Fat makes me unattractive, unworthy and unlovable. And anyone else who doesn't feel this way should be ridiculed.

Well, that kind of thinking just caused more anxiety. I know it was wrong, but everything I look at screams that it is right! TV, commercials, my friends who beat themselves up over their weight, fitness programs promising to "fix" me... 

This is the thing.

I want to be done with not being skinny enough. And I know losing weight isn't the answer. In the running picture I weighed 134 pounds and wore size 4 pants. And I kept thinking about how cool it would be if I could get down to 130, or 128...

I want this to stop, but I don't think I can do it alone. 

I read this book called A Complaint Free World. Author Will Bowen writes about the hurtful power of complaining, sarcasm and criticism. And the healing powers of silence.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit... I will be brief.

I think we should all read this book. I think it will help us all heal our inner wounds. Which might help us to stop wounding others. 

It's a cycle. And it is up to us if we want it to be a cycle of love or a cycle of hurt.

I love you all, thank you for your acceptance.