I’m a recovering perfectionist and the sad truth is that my body is not perfect. I’m finding it really hard to accept myself. When I look in the mirror I just see problems. I don’t see beauty or biology. I just look at myself and think I don’t look the way I want to look.
My body has changed since I’ve been diagnosed with Depression. My weight has fluctuated. I have gained approximately 9kg since I came out of the psychiatric clinic. Before I was admitted, I hardly ate. I was too nauseous and too unhappy with myself. I felt like I didn’t deserve nice things. I didn’t deserve to eat.
At my lowest point, I weighed a rather flimsy 48 kg. At 1.70 metres, this gave me a BMI of 16.6 which is rather pathetic. I was so skinny I had the body of an eleven year old asian boy.
I now weigh a much healthier 57 kg. The increase in weight signifies a huge improvement in my overall health and I should be really happy. But I’m not. Because now when I look in the mirror I see Sloth from the movie ‘The Goonies’
It’s been so ingrained in my mind that weight gain is something terribly undesirable. More undesirable than haemorrhoids. And they’re fucking undesirable…and itchy….apparantley.
Now, I know people will look at these photos and won’t understand what I’m talking about. You won’t see what I see. You won’t see all the soft, flabby, fat bits that I see. You won’t see the terrible cellulite, the tiny boobs, the ugly feet, the crooked teeth, the fat arms, the thin hair and the fat cheeks. I just see the bad.
I feel unattractive and thus, worthless. Because my worth as a woman is determined by my looks. By my body. I’m forever chained to the proverbial tread mill trying so damn hard to finally reach the promised land and become….
There are parts of my body that are so crap and flawed that they genuinely give me anxiety. I want my body to be visually appealing to the world. I want it to be aesthetically pleasing. I want to be perfect. I just want to be perfect.
But in wanting all that, I have totally forgotten about the biological purpose of my body. I’ve disregarded billions of years of evolution, of perfecting, crafting, improving and developing my body to make it work as well as it does. All because I WANT IT TO LOOK BETTER!!
My body is incredible. I mean the shit it can do. I could never do that. I don’t even know what it does half the time. I’m so glad I am not in charge of my organs because I have no idea what they do…If I was the general manager of my body parts I’d probably be dead within a day.
And I never stop to say thank you. All I do is criticize my body, hate it, slabber it in make-up and anti-cellulite cream. I don’t want that anymore. I want to accept my flawed body just the way it is.
So here is an open letter of gratitude and love for my under-appreciated body parts. All the parts that have given me pain, anxiety and deep disappointment over the years; that I wanted to slice open, cut away and fill with silicone; that I tried through vigorous exercise to change. To all the body parts that I’m so ashamed of and that make me feel insecure, inadequate and depressed… THANK YOU 🙂
My dear boobs,
Out of all my body parts you, have probably had the toughest ride. When you first started developing I was so happy and excited. Finally my life as a woman would begin.
But you didn’t blossom and flourish into what I had pictured. You decided you had grown enough. Meanwhile I used up all my prayers to ask for round, warm, soft, womanly mama balloons.
But my prayers went unanswered.
I hated you. I hated you so much. I was so ashamed of you. So embarrassed.
At eighteen I saw a plastic surgeon. He felt you up and avidly agreed with your inadequacy. But I couldn’t go ahead with the operation. I was too vain to leave you in the hands of a flawed human being. So life went on. I covered you in chicken fillets and strapped you in wonder bras and continued to despise you.
And then something happened. Out of nowhere I began to tolerate you. Out of tolerance grew acceptance. Now I have nothing but love for you. I’m so much more confident now. I’m much more like:
You see, I thought I needed you to make me feel like a woman. But I am a woman. I am a woman with breasts. They’re not perfect. They’re small and uneven. And covered in moles. But they are mine and I love them. I love them because they are healthy. I love them because they are little and because I don’t have to wear a bra. I love them because after all these years I have completely forgotten that their purpose is not to make me feel attractive and desirable or to make me fuckable.
Their only purpose in life, why they are attached to my chest, is to one day feed my babies. I am so sorry dear breasts that I forgot about that. I’m sorry that I got sidetracked and wanted to look like Kelly Brook. I’m sorry that I considered cutting you open and filling you with foreign objects all in the name of vanity.
So dear boobs, this is an open letter of appreciation for you. I love guys you so much and I just wanted to say thanks for putting up with me for so long.
All my love,
Sina
Dearest, most hard-working, most unloved, feet
My feet. My beautiful, strong and resilient feet. I have treated you so badly. Squeezed and squashed you into heels that didn’t fit. Forced you into shoes you didn’t like and coerced you to run when you were clearly aching.
And all this time, all these years, I have had nothing but shame for you. I didn’t want you the way you were. I wanted you to be small, and delicate and soft. I wanted you to be so soft.
All my life you’ve faithfully carried me. The most humble servant. Destined to be on the lowest end of the scale…You tried so hard to protect yourself from my evil ways. I violently forced you into shoes you didn’t like. Shoes that made you cry. You adapted by getting harder, by building bunions as your stronghold. But I didn’t like that because hard feet are not lady-like and I wanted to be a lady. So I kept you hidden. Found shoes that hid certain parts of you that I despised.
I just wanted you to be softer. I so badly wanted you to be softer and thank God you didn’t listen. I prayed for softer skin and you rebelled by getting harder and harder. Thank you for not listening to me. Thank you for carrying me all these years. For being being such wonderfully loyal body carriers.
Thank you,
Sina xxx
Dear Cellulite,
I’m going to be honest with you now. I have found it really hard to learn to accept you. I don’t want to accept you. I don’t even know why you’re here. I want you to fuck off. I really, really don’t want you. I really don’t know what you do in the world accept make me feel like shit. I want to accept you. But I don’t know what you do. What do you actually do?! You’re like an appendix. You’re just in the way. You’re in my way. I could be perfect if it wasn’t for you.
I could be so perfect. You make me feel so fat. Fat and ugly and lazy. You make me want to hide.
I’m so scared of summer. Because in the summer my secret will be out. My dirty secret that I’m not who I say I am. I say I’m a runner. And from the front I am one. But from the back, I’m a middle aged, deep-fried-mars-bar-eating foster care mum. I live in a trailer. I eat ice cream straight out the tub and there is an ass shaped imprint on my couch. I haven’t seen my feet since I was born.
I feel like my cellulite just doesn’t fit with my image. My image is that of a young, athletic woman. And my cellulite somehow contradicts all that.
When I go to the beach I want to run up to people and explain the cellulite situation to them.
You see, I’m so afraid of not being liked. Of not being found attractive. I’m scared the whole world is constantly judging me.
I want to accept you cellulite. I really do. But it’s hard. Because I try so hard to be perfect. And it’s killing me. For now, perhaps I will start by tolerating you. Baby steps, you know? Maybe we can try again next year.
Lots of love and one or two farts,
Sina
dammitdarling.com 
Everyone deals with their body image. I understand how you feel. When I hang with my friends who is tall, athletic, smooth skin, I feel bad of myself because I’m short and curvy. It doesn’t mean I’m less beautiful than them.
LikeLiked by 1 person
cheryl tiegs, a famous model of earlier years, ripped sports illustrated for putting ashley graham on the cover of the swimsuit issue. cheryl called ashley unhealthy. by whose definition?
cheryl is becoming from a begone years where the drive to be barbie-like appeared forefront. too often, if a woman’s body didn’t look barbie-like, the felt out of place and broken. that’s unfortunate.
graham, a plus size model, or as she calls it, curvasexalicious, represents a newer more accepting age. that helps people who don’t have the barbie-like figure, might see pioneers (is sad that i’m using that term) like graham to counter balance the one and only accepted image and hopefully get women saying, “i’m not barbie-like and i’m fine with that. i can love myself the way i am.”
there is a long way to go. the yogurt models, makeup models, food models, cloths models are still disproportionately represented by tiegs and other barbie-like types. until these proportions are more in align with the real world, people will feel left out if they don’t fit in with the homogenous model currently presented to world.
i realize i can’t change your self-image since that comes for from you, instead, i’ll add by two bits. i’ll start off with i find you to be beautiful and attractive. the attractiveness goes beyond you outward appearance. what i wouldn’t pay to have you part of my daily life. i’d be laughing so much, it would make it much harder to be depressed. and your artwork, it is to die for. many times, the pieces are funny on its own. two more thing, i like the “now” you better. the earlier you. the previous you looks like too much skin and bones for me. and in closing i hope you don’t mind me saying the evidence clearly shows you have a nice butt.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately with a recurring theme – beautiful imperfections. My opinion is that individuality far exceeds the corporate cookie-cutter version of what beauty is. By the way, the judge was completely wrong in the court case above. I’ve examined the evidence and found in your favor. IMO, your posterior is perfect. Carry on.
Rob
LikeLike
BTW, would you object to a re-blog on this post? I think that my readers would enjoy it very much.
LikeLike
Go for it! xxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you!
LikeLike
Reblogged this on The V-Pub and commented:
We all look at ourselves with a critical eye. It’s difficult not to, since we’re bombarded with ads and commercials telling us how to look good, and what is good. I think that we lose our individuality when we listen to them. This reblog is from Sena’s blog. She has a very funny, yet insightful way of looking at self-body awareness. Her cartoons remind me of South Park, which is very cool in my book. I hope that you like her post as much as I did.
LikeLiked by 1 person
this is fucking perfect. i died over the “truffle shuffle!” goonies is always a homerun. well done. i hate my cellulite too. x
LikeLiked by 2 people
🙂 Love the goonies so much. It’s such a feel-good film. Here’s to learning to accept our cellulite 🙂 xxxxxxx
LikeLiked by 3 people
yeah…about that…not sure if that’s possible but i promise to try. x
LikeLike
Holy shit this is too awesome. I needed this laugh today! I’ll join the people telling you that you should be proud of your body, you look fabulous, and I know you won’t listen to me. But you should. You totally should. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
You beautiful person!! Thank you thank you thank you. Xxxx
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are most welcome. Look forward to reading more on your blog! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wow where do I begin? You have the most incredible imagination, you are hilarious, so genuine and your drawings are so fun! Isn’t it amazing that we hold ourselves to a level of perfection that we will never achieve, nor should we! I started working out a few years ago and lost a lot of weight. I felt great and looked great or so I thought. My friends said I was too skinny…no I thought there’s no such thing. Last winter it was so cold in the mornings I stopped working out (it was like the worst winter on record)…well I have not yet started working out again and I have gained weight. Now my friends tell me I look great…to me I feel fat! And talk about cellulite…I agree with you and ask the question…what is that??? What’s it’s purpose other than to make us feel embarrassed!! I’m almost ready to start working out again but I’ll try not to get as thin as I did before…I think your after picture is a much healthier looking you but I bet you like your before picture better…once you’ve been thin it’s hard to accept “healthy”…but it is the right choice…thanks for helping me accept it too!
I look forward to more of your posts and honesty!!! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sho! I’m atually a little overwhelmed by all these nice comments 🙂 I’m starting to think someone is paying you to say all these wonderful things. Thank you very much Deb for your kind words. Hugs and kisses from Cape Town xxxxx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nope you earned every one of them yourself! You’re very welcome. Hugs and kisses back from America!! 🙂 xoxo
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so dazzled by your drawing of boobs and feet!! Like I honestly cannot take my eyes off them.
I’ve definitely had my fair share of bad body image. 😅 Ever since I was little, I remember comparing myself to other people, especially girls. It started out small at first, but of course it grew into something more severe over the years. Eventually, I didn’t really see myself anymore. All I saw was this distorted, hideous monster looking back at me. I hated being myself and always wanted to be someone else; constantly trying to mold myself into what was considered ‘beautiful’ to other people.
Eventually, I got so tired and sick of the idea of complying to other people’s standards in that sense. You can do the whole 9: change your hair, the way you dress and your personality to impress someone, but there will always be something else for others to nitpick at. The reality is, it’s impossible to please everyone. In fact, you shouldn’t even be living your life solely to please everyone in that sense. You will never truly be happy. Trust me, I know. I don’t know what exactly triggered this, but when I was 17 it seemed I was finally able to see who I truly was. As if I finally was able to take off this illusion that so heavily blinded me. I was so relieved and thankful, but was also angry because I feel like I wasted all those years trying to be someone else rather than being who I am and expressing myself through my own personal style.
Do I want to dye my hair? Get a new piercing? Tattoos? Get a new haircut? Experiment with new pieces of clothing and style? If I want to and feel like it’ll compliment me, best believe I will damn well do it!! Of course I do still have some days where I’m like, “What even is this..?? 😣 MEH.” But I’m definitely doing a hell of a lot better then I have been years ago.
With all that said, I’m so happy you’re taking those baby steps towards loving your body more. Beauty is subjective and can’t be made into a specific mold. Beautiful people are around the world and around the world all these different cultures and customs. The cultures are all so different and beautiful in their own way. Sure you’ve gained some weight, your breasts are on the small side and you have cellulite, but know that those things don’t dictate who you are as a person. As long as you’re doin all you can to be healthy and are able to function, you’re doing it right.
This is the only body you will ever get in your whole entire lifespan and it’s doing all that it can to live your life well through all its various different functions. It loves you. Cherish it as much as you can and keep on pushing through. ♥️
LikeLike
Absolutely! You’re so wise! I love it. I’m trying to be super proud of my cellulite at the moment haha. I’m on a beach holiday right now and at first I was all pale and feeling fat and flabby but then I thought fuck it. I earned every single inch of this cellulite and I’m gonna flaunt it haha.
LikeLike