I posted this a year ago on my old blog, but I felt the need to share it again here. I felt very proud of this post and hope you enjoy it.
**********
Those three words are incredibly hard to say about myself. My husband calls me beautiful.
My friends call me beautiful. But me? I call myself ugly. Fat. Blech.
Why? Why do I hate my body? Because I've been taught to hate it. Because we, as American girls-grown-into-women have been taught that we need to be a size 0 to be beautiful and happy. Or if not a size 0, then we need to diet and be a healthy size 6 or 8.
Then there are the "plus size models." Now, I appreciate this new found love of bigger girls, but even still, they're what? Size 12? maybe 14? They still have thin legs! (I hold a lot of my weight in my legs, so that's one of my sensitive areas. I am genetically predisposed to cankles!) The plus size stores start at size 12, which is great! Don't get me wrong. But I'm not size 12.
Right now, I'm a size 22. I weigh about 270 pounds. Not too long ago, I was closer to a 14/16/ and weight closer to 200. I've gained about 70 pounds since last October. Before that, I'd lost a lot of weight, but not for a good reason. And mentally? I was messed up. I suffer from depression and my meds were messed up for most of 2014. Even ended up in a mental hospital ...er, excuse me, a "Behavioral Health Facility" after a bad reaction to a new med made me suicidal. Don't you just love the PC versions of words?