on the body image monster...
[photo via Keri Smith - one of my favorite artists.]I've recently been doing a lot of thinking about accepting myself, despite the things that I feel aren't "good enough". For the most part, I've never been able to really accept myself without also thinking, "Well, this is good, but it could be better." I've never been able to allow myself to fully accept a flaw or anything less than (my idea of) perfection. Or what I think others consider as perfect.
Which leads to a lot of anxiety, let me tell you this.
Part of me wants to blame my slightly perfectionist tendencies, or the fact that I grew up with only sisters (which tends to breed a bit of competition), or the terrible pressures of our culture, or the fact that maybe I've read a few too many beauty magazines. But who really knows? I'm sure there are a million little things that led up to me being the way I am today. But, honestly, I just want to be able to find contentment in who I am, what I'm doing, and the girl I see in the mirror every day.
In the last few years, I feel like I've made great strides in basic self-acceptance - being content and learning to love the person I am, despite my quirks, inconsistencies and the mistakes I've made. Also, I'm doing quite well when it comes to giving myself enough credit for the things I've done in live - my accomplishments, talents and goals I've reached. Those things haven't ever really plagued me like the physical stuff. I've always known that I'm a good person, and that I am capable of great things but truly loving the girl in the mirror?
I guess that's a different story. I'm not exactly sure why. (Especially because I have ridiculously encouraging parents, sisters, friends and, most of all, my husband.) Maybe I'll never really know.
However, this morning, it all came to a head.
To be completely honest, I'm very good at putting on the happy face. I may not be the best actress, but I'm sometimes entirely too good at hiding what I may be feeling at any given moment. The thing is, I've been really trying to force myself to have a positive attitude about my body when I'm not feeling so keen about it. I keep thinking, If I say the words enough, then I'll start to believe them. I've been looking in the mirror and telling myself how great I look, praising the things I love, trying to accept those I don't. I've been back to the gym, running a couple miles a few times a week. I've been making good food choices, but trying not to curse myself for eating an entire bag of popcorn in one sitting (on a rare, glorious occasion). I really felt like I was making some sort of progress, you know?
And still, after all that progress, I end up bawling my eyes out this morning. A pathetic, wilting girl in the shower, after a comment I'd received from my husband morning - one that wasn't meant to be hurtful, but really struck me at the exact wrong moment. When I was feeling most vulnerable, and was trying to look my insecurity in the eyes and truly fight any negative feelings head-on.
I feel kind of defeated right now, to be honest.
It's odd, because for the most part, I really love my body. I do have days where I feel like a total goddess. I have good days and bad days, like anyone else, I guess. But no matter what, I can't shake that voice that makes me want to lose weight. The voice that makes hold short of completely loving myself. And knowing that I can't silence that voice really wears me down sometimes. I feel ungrateful, ridiculous, self-obsessed and silly.
In fact, I feel kind of silly writing about this, not knowing who exactly is going to be reading it. It does feel good to put it all down in writing right now, though. These feelings come and go, and maybe right now I'm just feeling especially vulnerable. I don't even know why, but it's there. Ridiculously there.
This is not a cry for compliments, or anything like that. Don't get me wrong!
The thing is, I've been trying with all my heart to get over these feelings. Especially in the last couple years. I so desperately want to embrace everything I am, and be one of those women who can confidently say, "Yes, I have imperfections. Yes, I could lose more weight, eat better, go to the gym more often. Yes, I've gone up a few sizes in the last five years. But all that is okay. It doesn't matter. What I look like doesn't define who I am."
I want, more than anything, to be able to say those things in complete and utter honesty - and some days I feel like I can. But lately, I worry that I'll never truly get over these feelings of wanting to pick myself apart. Sure, I can say the words, and try to convince myself that I'm over it, but what if it's all a front? I worry that if I can't get a handle on this while I'm in my twenties - the years I most likely am in the best shape I'll ever be - then what does my future look like?
And thus continues the work-in-progress that is Kerri. I'm sure tomorrow things will look a little brighter.











42 wrote me a note:
Thoughts? Questions? White cheddar popcorn? Do share.