Body Talk

Hi, Hey, Hello!

Total change of pace today from yesterday’s post in that things are maybe gonna get a little bit more serious than usual (and definitely more so than yesterday which was fun). But it’s something that has been playing on my mind for a while, especially these days where I find myself talking about it a lot more than usual.

I’m (funnily enough, given the title) talking body (and not the Tove Lo song, which as a side note is pretty damn great).

I can quite happily say that at age 23 I am pretty happy with my body. I’m like 85% there with it. And the remaining 15% is something that I will get to one day, when I finally do this thing that I have been thinking about for months now. But I am 85% there now.

And it took me a while to get to this point. Like all my teen years and some terrible food related habits to get here.

But I got there and I stay at 85% pretty solidly all the time.

Until someone tells me that I can’t complain or moan about the fact that I’ve eaten too much bread in one day because I’m so skinny.

Because apparently that means I can’t have an opinion on the fact that I probably shouldn’t have consumed almost a full loaf of bread in a matter of hours. Or the fact that I am more cake than anything else by 3pm. Or the fact that I will quite easily eat a whole pizza in one sitting and probably not feel all that guilty (I don’t understand how one can start eating pizza and not just keep going until it’s too much).

And then I do this thing where I start trying to refute the phrase ‘but you’re so skinny’. Which oddly enough you can only do if you start focusing on the negative. Ya know the shit talking part of my brain that I have started actively ignoring because it does me no good to dwell on them.

But there I am dwelling away.

And I’m right back to being that teenager (which was sooooo long ago now…not) who obsessively counted calories and at one point legit knew the circumference of her thighs (I don’t anymore because that is a fucking crazy thing to know). The one that ate two meals a day just fine but kind of hated doing so some of the time. The one who wanted everything to be as narrow as possible, but still wanted bigger boobs…The one that spent most of her time trying to be as small as possible in a world that demanded she be several inches taller than almost every other girl she knew pretty much always.

A girl that worked my fucking arse to leave behind.

And I have.

Until someone looks me up and down and says ‘you look like that you can afford to eat all the carbs you want, why are you complaining?’

And well…I’m of not complaining per se. I’m merely commenting on the fact that I feel a bit blerguh and the chips and sandwich I just devoured for lunch is probably the cause of it. I will continue to double carb if I so choose because I am not here for depriving myself of something if I want it. It’s all about balance.

I know that now.

And I know that it could be better and I know that I’m lucky enough to have a fast metabolism. And I also know that I really need to stop with the cake and the chocolate and I’ll get there with that one eventually. But I also know that somewhere within the dark crevices I know exactly how to live a life where my thighs don’t touch but it never looks like I’m going too far with the whole weight loss thing and I don’t particularly want to ever have that information make its way back to the forefront of my life.

This isn’t a post slamming body shaming or anything, because that is a whole other thing in itself and I’m not gonna get into it the way that I know I can right now (but ya know I stand on the ‘it’s none of your damn business’ side of things). I think this is mainly a way of me putting it down into some kind of coherent format that I’m okay with that aspect of my life.

Because right now it kind of feels like everyone around me is in one way or another telling me that I shouldn’t be okay with it. That at 23 I should still be in that stage where I stress about my waist to hip ratio or whatever it is I am supposed to be stressed about when it comes to that. That I should be thinking about being on some kind of diet (and I’m sorry what is that word?) because everyone around my age is also on one.

And what’s worse is that there are days when it actually affects me again. Where I deprive myself of the things I want because of some unfounded fear and then I’m hungry about 10 minutes after my lunch is finished and about 6 hours away from dinner where I then just overcompensate for the rest of the day. Which feeds back into this self loathing cycle and honestly I’ve already done this shit and I don’t really feel like doing it again. It feels like a regression and I am so not for that right now. It’s a depressing regression, most are pretty shitty that this one is maybe one of the shittiest.

So I am doing this thing where I am holding myself accountable for myself and putting it into actual words, and not just as a silent mantra in my head, that I am largely just fine with the fact that most of the weight I do/might/have put on will just congregate on my thighs and the fact that this is as big as my boobs are gonna get and that apparently I have kind of big hands and feet. And I should probably do something about the semi permanent slumped shoulders but that will come eventually when it doesn’t feel super unnatural.

Because putting it down into words, and also out into the universe, means that it exists. And I’m aware of it.

And I’m not gonna go back.

(Parentheses count: 9. See you tomorrow!)

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