Fat.

You know how everybody says things like,

‘Oh I learned to love my curves and wobbly bits’

and

‘I changed my lifestyle and suddenly I don’t mind the fat. I feel comfortable in my skin.’

and

‘I am happy with how I look, fat rolls and all.’

How can they say that? And how do they look so good? Does their confidence automatically add ten million nice real life pixels on to their bodies?

I am above my necessary weight. And I feel so so fat. And ugly. And so uncomfortable in my own skin. I can’t breathe properly because I am a few pounds overweight and always trying to suck my tummy in. And NOTHING looks good on me because I have a massive ass and huge thighs but tiny calves and ankles and arms and my stomach is not flat anymore, so my clothes all look weird. Fat does not sit well on me at all, and I have a small face too so it just looks – WRONG!

I TRY to tell myself it is okay, I am still beautiful.. but I do not feel it at all. I feel fat and ugly and horrendous and out of place.

Also my husband says, ‘What happened to you, Lenora!?’ and he THINKS things because I can read his face like a book and it makes it worse and I just feel so horrible and unattractive and nasty.

Yesterday I was in the changing rooms and it felt like the music of my life sizzled into a buzz like an angry wasp and then it crankled a bit like a big machine dying down and crumpled into nothing. I noticed my muffin top and my pouchy tummy and then my arms are wiggly and my face is horrible and my legs are not legs they are wobbly misshapen things and I am just a massive ball of wobbly horrible things and I can’t love this. Who can love this? It is awful.

And I stood there for a good fifteen minutes just staring at myself in shock and disgust, and when I came out the lady said, ‘Did you like anything?’

And in my head I said, ‘Yes I loved it all but i hated my body so I am not getting anything at all because my skin does not deserve it and I am a flabby, ugly, dragon and I hate myself.’

I said, aloud, ‘Yes, thanks! I’ll take this one!’

And walked out and now the cute top I bought it hidden away in my drawer because I can’t bring myself to wear it and see how expanded my stomach has become in the span of TWO MONTHS.

I am just a miserable pile of unwanted fat.

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How the heck do they do it? How do they look so gorgeous! Image Credit.

 

 

I Want to be Thin

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And it’s on my mind everyday.

Sometimes I get upset about it, and that makes me go for an ASDA smart price chocolate bar in D’s snack drawer. Sometimes it doesn’t stop at just one smart price chocolate bar. Sometimes it’s two or three plus a mini Kit Kat and a mug of coffee….¬†with sugar!

But I want to be thin.

I want to be slender and graceful and flowy like those 1920s women in their straight dresses.

I want to have thin arms, and thighs that look smooth and tight and shapely beneath my clothes.

I don’t want my extra bits.

So I try to cycle them away.

I gym them away.

They do like to persevere. An odd pokey bit here, a spillage over my jeans, thighs that are a little too large for my fancy, squidgy bits under my arms..

Maybe it’s not healthy to obsess about it like I do. In fact it definitely probably isn’t. But the way I see it is like this: Never settle for anything less than perfection.

My body is not perfection. And I have no excuses, other than laziness and one too many chocolate bars. Also lack of will power.

So, I won’t. Settle. For anything less than perfection in my eyes.

 

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