At almost 30, I realize, no matter what, I have never been happy with my body.
There is always something I hate. I grew up being very, very thin. I have IBS, and it was especially bad in my youth/teenage years so eating almost always made me nauseous. I had a high metabolism and good genes. When I was a kid, looking at photos now especially, at times I looked scary thin.
When I got into my early teens, all the other girls started filling out: hips, boobs, soft pretty bodies. I stayed stick-like. I grew quite tall for a girl, five foot nine, but I stayed flat, no hips, nothing. This was a very awkward time for me. I wanted to dress sexy like the other girls in school, but I was still wearing kids' size clothes. The problem was that I was so tall. A size 12 in kids pants fit, but they would hit me above the ankle. I remember when Wet Seal finally started selling size 00 jeans by Paris Blues, and my whole life changed. I could rock those flair jeans like my friends, and look like Tara Reid in Josie in the Pussy Cats.
When I turned about 19, I finally "filled out" I got some hips, some boobs, and the tummy I hated from my mom. I probably weighed about 110, and should have felt happy, but that stupid tummy. I hated it. I felt fat. Into my early 20's, I leveled out at about 120. I felt fat then too. I knew I wasn't, but coming from a place where I had always been so thin, knowing nothing else but that, I had nothing else to compare to.
I should mention, I have always been a cutter. Now, in my late twenties, I have fewer and fewer episodes. But oddly, my scars are not the parts of me I feel ashamed of. I'd take a million of them over cellulite and pudgy bits.
When I was 25 I fell into a very deep depression and was hospitalized for trying to commit suicide. I stayed in a day program for about 3 months, getting therapy and trying a myriad of medications. Most of them made me nauseous, so I got down to 107 pounds. I thought I looked amazing. I look at pictures now, and I still think I looked great. Friends and family members were concerned, and they still now consider it the worst I have ever looked. It is so hard to see it; to me, I looked fragile, delicate, and ethereal. My clothes hung on my body in such a perfect way. Guys thought I was hot, and I felt good in my own skin.
As I got happier, and more stable, I leveled out to my normal 120 again. Stayed hating my tummy and cellulite but felt ok with it. I always muttered that I was fat and have always watched what I eat. I should have been happy with myself at this time, but I just still always found something to dislike about my proportions.
When I turned 28, my metabolism shifted, and I started a job where I sit all the time. Now at 29, I weigh the most I ever have. At first I was 130, and now, 6 months later, I am 140. I am still not overweight, technically, this is about the weight I should be for me height. But I hate it. I feel terrible. My arms seem huge; my waist is no longer tiny. The tummy I used to hate so much seems to have even more rolls of fat. When I bend to the side, I see rolls and lumps that I never knew I could have.
All the beautiful clothes I had, vintage items, things I made, will never fit me again. I have pretty much had to get an entire new wardrobe. My family, friends, and boyfriend think I look great. I have 34DD boobs now and definitely a butt. I like these things, and sometimes I try to tell myself I look good curvier. But then I analyze in the mirror for 20-30 minutes some days, and I do not like what I see. It is not familiar to me, it is a body I don't want.
It is hard to realize that no matter what weight I am at, I am never happy with how I look. There will always be one thing or another to dislike....