I am me

By: Daisy C.

I find myself criticizing the way I look a lot. I look back on old photos and videos of me and think “Why did I smile like that? Why didn’t I smile nicer? I look weird.” or “Why do I look like this in a certain position instead of trying to look like that?” 

For others, having a nicer body and prettier face comes naturally. They don’t need to fix themselves or hold their breath so that their stomach doesn’t stick out. They look good in every lighting and don’t need to go to a darker setting to take a photo to hide their imperfections. I envy those people.

I found myself being bitter toward those close to me because they look nicer in group photos or they got approached more often by people in public. Or when we go into a store to look for clothes and they can get nearly everything they want because they have their size in stock. They’re okay with looking for crop tops but I wouldn’t be caught dead in one. 

There are moments in time where I go back to being that 12 year old crying in the bathroom while trying to pull on her shirt to make her stomach look even a little smaller. The one that shook her head shyly when she was asked if she wanted something to eat at a party. The one that kept her sweater over her stomach when she took it off. 

My body and the size that I am were something that I thought were shackles around my ankles, holding me back from letting people in because why would anyone want to hang out with a bigger girl?

Bigger clothes just made me look bigger, tighter clothes hugged my body too much to where I could see all of my flaws. Each roll and dip just dug a deeper hole into my mind that I wasn’t good enough to be looked at past my appearance. 

Transitioning into a young adult just fueled the fire. Attention, even if not the healthiest, was still attention and the idea that someone wanted me. I objectified myself and told myself that as long as there was some kind of relationship, being wanted was better than being alone. Even if it was just for what my body had to offer.

 I thought something was wrong with me. I thought that I wasn’t meant for love. Of course I know that isn’t true but when you’re surrounded by people in love while the only people interested in you were there because of their urges was like a knife being plunged into my chest. 

It’s gonna take some time to really value my self worth. To give myself some respect and understand that I am so much more than my body. I’m not just a couple pounds on a scale or the way I look in pictures. I’m not just an object for people to use for their disposal.

I am someone worth loving both by myself and by others. I am someone worth time and positive attention. I am someone with or without my body. 

I am me.