I like to think about things. I also like to question things – sometimes just for the sake of it.
I nerd myself into some things. Other things I am extremely uninterested in.
I have also become a climate change aunt, despite mine so far, in the context, young age.
On this blog you can read most of what fits in my world of thought. From social criticism to beauty 40+ to embarrassing stories to…
Welcome! 🙂
I have been more or less big all my life. Even as a child, I was fatter than most. As an adult, I have had huge problems with my relationship with food and sugar, and the weight has been accordingly. It is perhaps not so strange that my self-image is a little distorted.
The fact is that I'm starting to wonder if it's not just distorted, without me having actual delusions about what I look like. As for my face, I have no major problems – it is my baggy eyelids that bother me, but otherwise I can think I have a pretty nice face.
It is the rest. I extremely rarely look at myself in a full-length mirror. I avoid it as much as possible with clothes on, and naked – oh, hell fucking no. What I see in my reflection is grotesque. I really think I look so awful that it should be impossible for anyone else to think I'm beautiful, attractive, or even a little cute.
It's partial therefore I dress as I do. I have in itself a style of clothing that I am very fond of (otherwise I would not have it), but it is, among other things, to hide the parts of my body I do not like. Above all, it is the area between the breast and the crotch – in other words, stomach and diaphragm, the back, and also my upper arms.
I think I may not look quite as bad as I think, but on the other hand – every time I see my reflection in the gate of the stairwell, a shop window in town or something else, especially if I'm in the company of someone else, then I'm pretty cracked. In my eyes, I'm as big as seventeen barn doors (least!), and I do not like to have that image of myself. It does not correspond to what I look like inside my head.
One can think that this with appearance and self-image should have no major significance at my age. I am 45 years old and should know and understand that people my age do not look the same as we did when we were 20. But I'm like most people; I like to feel good-looking and I basically never do that because in the back of my head is always my reflection and ripples. And in my reflection I am grotesque. Anything that can make me possibly feel good (clothes, make up and jewelry) is just that one way to mask that grotesque.
There is one name for this I never remember. Something with a nozzle- and morph, but I do not remember exactly what it is. Do not think I necessarily have the whole diagnosis, but I'm starting to wonder if I at least have a toss of it.
For the thing is after all, it also does not matter how many people say that I look good, when I do not feel it myself. Now it does not happen very often that someone says that, but when it happens I get happy even if I do not automatically think they are completely honest. In my head I am grotesque even in the eyes of others. And yes, I put my own experience of my body and my appearance in the mouths of others when I say it, but so it is.
I have tremendous hard to see and understand that someone else might think I'm beautiful.
This is something I started thinking about quite recently, actually. Not what I think of my own reflection, but precisely this with the fact that I may have delusions about my body and my appearance. The insight is a little scary, and I realize it's probably something I have to work on. I do not really know how to deal with it, but hopefully I will come in some good way.
In and for sig; one way is my yoga – and I already do. Most recently today, a friend I had not seen for a while exclaimed that “it really is visible” as soon as we met. And it's fun, even though I still feel grotesque when I see myself naked (which I therefore avoid as much as possible). But I plan to continue with my yoga, and my plan is that next summer I will be able to wear linen, preferably with an open back, without shame and preferably – actually, feel good looking.
We'll see how it goes, but I can not deny that a lot has happened in the more than five months I have been doing my daily yoga. A couple of weeks ago I bought new bras one size smaller (the cups are too small so the breasts overflow, which would have been ok if I had been 20 – but I'm too stingy to send them back, so it may be for the time being), and hopefully I will need to buy new ones again ahead of Christmas or so. So to think that it is reasonable to be able to feel at least somewhat good-looking for almost summer, still feels relatively affordable. I think.
The one who lives get to see. This post was much more revealing than I thought when I started writing. You have to live with it, for that I intend to do. Just so you know.