CW: Talk of body image, fatphobia, vague mentions of eating disorders, vague mentions of dysphoria, vague mentions of health issues, profanity
Image drawn and cropped by me.
I wore a skirt today for the first time in…what must really have been months. I didn’t chafe, and I felt cute, and I swore off pants to feel like this all the time.
And I went to the gym with my cousin. A part of me didn’t want to. I was so tired. But a bigger part of me wanted to make this a habit. Wanted to be one workout session closer to the body I want. I felt okay. I felt good having gone.
I felt ugly when I undressed to take a shower.
There is so much of me. Protruding at the belly. Skin rolling over skin on my back. Sometimes I wonder if the reason that my legs are crooked, genu valgum, is because of the fluctuating weight they’ve had to support my whole life.
My mom keeps asking me if I go to the gym regularly. That my arms are too big. That I need to stop eating so much.
My respirologist said, “Okay, well,” when I told him I fell off the rhythm of exercising. He said that it’s recommended people workout forty to sixty minutes a day. He said, without saying, you’re overweight and it might be causing you health issues.
I weigh more than I did last year, and the year before, and the year before. I can’t keep the weight off. I can’t commit to adding exercise to my routine. I’m always the biggest person in the group, in the room. I can’t shop in the same sections as my friends. Every day, I daydream that they cut away the fat and I’m left with the body I want, but the body I haven’t earned, or wasn’t born with.
I looked it up: dysphoria. Think I have it but have to expel that thought when my skinny friend – who is so, so valid, towards who I know I am thinking unfairly, but can’t help – says hers is acting up today. Well, then, I must not have it, or have it as bad, if it was so much worse for her. But if she thinks she’s fat, then what the fuck am I?
I will spend the night making myself feel bad – other people have exercised their way back to health, to their dream body – why can’t I?
I want to be skinny – skinnier. Or at the very least, I want to feel pretty. I want to like my body. But I never will.