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?