Wednesday, July 17, 2013
My body confidence is the best it's been for as long as I can remember. Possibly the best it's been in my whole life.
I realised that I find my pear shape infinitely more attractive than the straight up and down I used to think I wanted.
I love that my tiny chest means I can walk into most stores knowing they'll have my bra size, and I don't have to go to expensive speciality stores to find one big enough. I also love that my bridesmaid's dress fits me just right whereas the other two bridesmaids (both DDs) are going to have to be very careful about leaning forward in their dresses, if you know what I mean..
I have always loved my eyes and now they're accentuated by my lovely emerging cheekbones.
My body is strong and flexible and somehow, against every belief I held, capable of running for prolonged periods. I am awesome!
But I hate my tiger stripes.
I try telling myself I'm proud that they're now silver instead of red because of all my hard work. I try telling myself it doesn't matter because nobody else can see most of them, and nobody has ever commented on the obvious upper arm ones.
But it doesn't work. Because the truth is, I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed that I ever let myself get so fat that it started bursting my skin. I'm ashamed that I spent what should have been the best years of my life paralysed with the fear of what everyone would think of The Fat Kid. That it took me nearly 24 years to realise that my body deserves good food and hard exercise.
And they make me ashamed that I still sometimes do the exact same things and put the exact same junk in my mouth that caused my tiger stripes in the first place.
I guess it's something I'll just have to keep working on, because they're certainly not going anywhere.