Self Loathing Pretty Much All of the Time

It's 2:30am, I've left The Boyfriend in bed to sleep while I get eaten alive by insecurities. I haven't posted in a while, I guess it's because I've been feeling a little bit worthless and I didn't think that it would matter if the world knew, but I guess I'm sitting here typing this because I don't really have anyone else to talk to right now, well at least I don't have anyone to talk to that isn't judging me, staring at the glaringly obvious scabs around my eyes or wondering just how I managed to get out of the front door. I think these things about myself all day every day, so I pretty much just assume that it's what other people are thinking about me too.

I haven't left the house in 2 weeks but I have to on Thursday and the thought of it is making me nervous. I'm only going to visit my Grandparents, but it means leaving the safety of my home, it means being seen, it means being exposed. What makes it worse is that my Grandmother thinks that I've been sticking to my diet, which I haven't. I wish I could say that I had, but quiet simply I haven't really had the motivation or the will power to do it. I only have myself to blame, I know that, and it makes me hate me even more.

I think the real reason I'm writing is not just because I can't sleep, or I need someone to talk to, but because I've realized how much I actually need this. While I was writing for the short time that I was, I was okay. I wasn't constantly fighting with my boyfriend because I was letting it all build up, I didn't feel like I was suffocating under the weight (no pun intended) of it all. It's a release I guess. When I stopped writing all hell broke loose. All I'll say is that I'm very lucky that I still have my boyfriend. This just feels like a little bit of sanctuary where I can let off steam, bitch and moan and whine on like I'm talking to the most understanding person in the world, who just happens to not be able to judge me. I guess I know that whoever is reading this is judging me in some way or another, but considering I don't get many views I guess I feel a little safer.

The boyfriend wants me to do a pin up shoot for him. Nothing distasteful, just a classy photo for him. I like the idea, when I imagine it I think of some gorgeous fifty's babe in lacy garments posing seductively yet elegantly, I don't think of me, I think of someone else. I wish I was someone else. I wish I could think that I would ever look good in that kind of picture, but I know I wouldn't, I don't belong in front of a camera. I feel like I don't belong anywhere to be honest.

My inability to look in the mirror has got worse. Now, not only can I not stand the sight of my body, but my barely tolerable face is ridden with eczema. I swear, it only has to spread a couple of millimeters more across my nose and I'll look like I'm wearing a red, flaky, itchy, scabby super hero mask. It's disgusting. I can't even look in the mirror when I'm brushing my teeth or my hair, it's getting pretty bad. I'm thinking about going to the new doctors and signing up, but that means that I would have to be weighed, since it's a new doctor, and that alone is enough to put me off going for the rest of my life, no matter what the problem is.

I'm sorry that this entry is a little bit all over the place, I guess I'm just tired. Sigh. Good night then.   

Body Shaming

I'm a firm believer that shaming anyone for their appearance is down right wrong. It shouldn't matter whether you're fat, skinny, big or small. People don't need their imperfections pointed out to them. We all look in the mirror, we all see the things we hate about ourselves and yet everyone else feels the need to tell us that we should be ashamed of ourselves. But should we? Should we really be ashamed of our bodies? As an individual, you've probably guess that I am indeed ashamed of my body, but I really don't believe that other people should shame me for it. How does my body affect their lives? It really doesn't, it's none of their business.

When discussing this issue with other people, they say that all body types are picked on by people; fat people comment on skinny people, skinny people comment on fat people. While this is true, the media never really focuses on how being under weight is just as dangerous as being overweight. We constantly see drastically underweight women on the catwalk, flaunting clothes that would split at the seems if I so much as looked at them, and yet, rather than consider these women as unhealthy, we aspire to be like them, we wish we had that gap between our legs, and defined ribs and hip bones. And then there are 'plus size' models. Why can't they just be models? Why do we have to segregate them as 'plus size'? It sickens me that us bigger people are considered to be a total different species.

Just my two cents I guess....