Medication Weight Gain - I am Bothered By My Size
Life after being abused - the life a one who survives child abuse, sexual abuse and all other trauma's damages the ability to properly view yourself physically and emotionally.
How did this happen? I no longer see the picture of who I was 30 years ago when I look in the mirror, I see me. I see who I really am... what other people see... I have gotten bigger. I see age. I see cellulite. I see bulges.
I don't like what I see. I don't feel pretty. I feel plump. I can't say fat yet... plump somehow sounds like a happy santa.... not so overweight... they way he is suppose to be.
I have noticed that my shirts are getting shorter... and when I bend forward a roll of flesh like a summer floatie rests below the edge of my shirt. I don't like it, so I keep pulling my shirt down attempting to make it longer. I also find myself sitting up taller trying to elongate what is within my skin.
My arms are all bumpy, not slender, nor smooth. What has happen to me?
And what strikes me, beyond what reality I do finally see in my mirrored reflection is that I was able to hide this from myself so many years. Like an anorexic looks in the mirror and see herself fat... how many years have I looked in the mirror and seen myself at age 21, size 8?
I want to blame something! It must be this computer... blogging... I was not so fat until I sat so much writing, releasing, pushing through all the gunk in my soul. There may be a bit of truth to this... but is this just a piece of the delusional dissociative effect of surviving from child abuse and domestic violence? Was I afraid to see, afraid I would reject myself.... even maybe hate what I see.
And it doesn't help that the thought of exercise sounds like a foreign highly toxic communicable disease. Chocolate ice cream sounds so much nicer. It is like comparing wool flannel underwear to silk.
My age is catching up with me...50 doesn't sound young or small.
Do you see what your real reflection is? Have you ever not seen it? When did it change? When did you notice? It befuddles me!
How did this happen? I no longer see the picture of who I was 30 years ago when I look in the mirror, I see me. I see who I really am... what other people see... I have gotten bigger. I see age. I see cellulite. I see bulges.
I don't like what I see. I don't feel pretty. I feel plump. I can't say fat yet... plump somehow sounds like a happy santa.... not so overweight... they way he is suppose to be.
My arms are all bumpy, not slender, nor smooth. What has happen to me?
And what strikes me, beyond what reality I do finally see in my mirrored reflection is that I was able to hide this from myself so many years. Like an anorexic looks in the mirror and see herself fat... how many years have I looked in the mirror and seen myself at age 21, size 8?
I want to blame something! It must be this computer... blogging... I was not so fat until I sat so much writing, releasing, pushing through all the gunk in my soul. There may be a bit of truth to this... but is this just a piece of the delusional dissociative effect of surviving from child abuse and domestic violence? Was I afraid to see, afraid I would reject myself.... even maybe hate what I see.
And it doesn't help that the thought of exercise sounds like a foreign highly toxic communicable disease. Chocolate ice cream sounds so much nicer. It is like comparing wool flannel underwear to silk.
My age is catching up with me...50 doesn't sound young or small.
Do you see what your real reflection is? Have you ever not seen it? When did it change? When did you notice? It befuddles me!
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Debi