Yes, that’s me in the morning before coffee! Seriously though, I’ve been sitting out on my patio in the mornings catching up on reading, enjoying my morning coffee. It’s still very cold but I bundle up to the gills and it’s nice to get some fresh hour.
Sounds wonderful doesn’t it? Okay, it kind of is but there’s this wee bit of behavior that I’d really rather not have. No matter where I am in recovery, this little thing just never changes. Anytime, anywhere, when I sit down, I always check to see how much space I take up on the chair. It’s so habitual but also a source of judgment.
I wish I fit like this:
But I feel like this:
Isn’t that just crazy? Is this a unique behavior? I never hear anyone mention it. Maybe because my source of body image anxiety is my lower body. And because of vanity sizing with jeans, how can one know what size they truly are?
The other thing I judge is the space between my calves when I cross my legs.
To feel okay, safe, I want my calves to naturally be touching all the way to my ankle. Are they right now? No, it’s about like this picture at this point. For it to be the way I prefer it, I would be emaciated so that’s not going to happen. However, it is better than the crossed leg being almost horizontal!
I know, silliness.
On to beauty…
I mentioned in my last post about being ugly and so in the realm of “thin and beautiful” I strove for thinness. Perhaps I ought to clarify. True, I’m not beautiful and, in fact, have never been told that, ergo, conclusion of said ugliness. What I have been told most of my life is, “You’re cute,” “You’re adorable,” and so forth, kind of in a Sally Field (in her younger days) look I suppose.
Here she is. Isn’t she cute and adorable? Sigh…
Perhaps I ought to be happy I have at least that, yeah? However, when you grow up with a mum who’s mantra is, “You must be thin and beautiful in order to be successful,” and then no one says you’re beautiful, there can only be one conclusion, at least for a young, damaged, emotionally vulnerable person.
In actuality, I have no idea what I look like. In all these years I’ve never been able to look in the mirror and know what people see. I only see bits and parts. I’ve wished for years I could have just one glimpse of how I look to others. I mean, as with most anorexics, I don’t see the size of my body, but my face? As far as I know, other ED people do see their face at least. I see hazel eyes that are changing to grey green color now. I see one eyebrow higher than the other, I see fat cheeks (although my rtherapist says I have the thinnest face she’s ever seen), I see the way my hair settles on my face…. anyway, you see the point. I’d post a picture to prove my point but years ago when I had a blog, someone from an eating disorder support group I used to go to hacked me and read everything.
I’m actually taking a big risk by coming back on but I have no support whatsover and thought maybe…. plus, I love, love, love to write.
Okay, done… cheers.