Body Envy

Wanna hear something pathetic? My obsession with my weight -- an unhealthy, loathing selfishness and pity party -- that has lasted the past ten years is running me dry. My whole life I've wanted nothing more than to be stick skinny. Not runway model emaciated. Just something like 0.45% body fat. I'm willing to work out and eat healthy to be ... skinny... but even then, my natural shape -- the one I can't change without plastic surgery -- is grossly unappealing to me.

I've struggled with an enormous amount of self hatred since I was about 9. And it's only gotten worse throughout the years. In high school I consistently starved myself, allowing two tiny meals a day on average. I don't think anyone noticed, because I was in the cafeteria just as much as any other dorm student, but I was constantly hungry.

Around this time I also started running. I couldn't run very far, and I only did it like twice a week, but I felt like I was helping myself.

College hit and I ran all the time. Five days a week. I fluctuated wildly between starving myself, eating one meal a day, eating two meals a day, eating whatever I wanted. I went nuts with sit ups and crunches. This summer I ran 6 miles every morning when I worked at camp, and that paid off for the first month or so, and then I started plateauing.

The frustration never ends, though. I think my perception of myself -- rephrase: I KNOW -- is distorted and unrealistic, and my vision of what I want to become is just as crazy. This gives me some hope when I realize I'm failing at attaining my goal, but it doesn't change what my head tells me I have to have.

I thought that I would never get the guy of my dreams looking the way I do, but that if I did, it would quiet my aching heart and silence the critical voice in my head -- if he loves you and loves the way you look, then you're really okay. But you know what? I got the guy I've always wanted, and he compliments me every day, whispers everything I need to hear, and tells me he's never seen a more perfect woman ever, but it doesn't make me content with myself. It intimidates me. I feel as if I'm not and won't ever be perfect enough for him. He's too far above me. 

Thanks to personal trainer Dylan Rada, I've started working out with weights and not killing myself trying to run around the planet. I can see a vast improvement and different muscle tones are showing through that I didn't know existed; but I'm still not happy -- yet. Maybe if I keep at it long enough. I'm constantly striving for that always elusive flawless exterior, the one that screams from magazine covers and rips at me from my computer screen. It is an obsession. Not an infatuation that I'll get over -- this is a demeaning, sick relationship that I've allowed myself to be sucked into and don't have the strength to get out of. Every time I see an advertisement or a picture or a pretty girl on the street I bash myself over the head again. Why can't you have that? 

Magazine covers are airbrushed. Yes, I know that. But I do know "perfection" like that exists. I've seen it. There are girls at Union that walk around carrying everything I have always wanted to be.

At the same time, though, I get jealous of people (Addi...) that have risen above this common snare for women -- how did they rise above it? Why can't I grow into a balanced, emotionally-healthy young woman like they have?

Please don't get me wrong: I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party. I don't want anyone's sympathy or help from a professional. It's just that the majority of people that know me probably wouldn't guess that I worry over things like my body -- look how trivial it is! -- to this extent. And that's why I'm writing about it. I am tired of hiding everything and keeping up a front.

I know many other girls struggle with this, too, and I hope that maybe someone reads this who needs to feel encouraged that she isn't alone. It always makes me feel better to know that there are others in the same boat.

I'm normally very quiet about my personal problems, but that doesn't mean I don't have any. I probably have more problems than you do, I promise. I just shove them deep down. They get lodged in there and tend to stick around longer than they should. Obviously.