(no subject)
Catching my reflection in the mirror to my right, seeing my face parsed into Picasso-esque pieces: cheeks and chin out of proportion, eyes pasted on at random. At long last, I was completely alone.
- Hornbacher, Wasted
I have a vague understanding of what I look like, but I am unable to get a sense of the bigger picture. I agree and disagree with various constructions of myself at various times. I know that I am thinner than most people, but some people have much smaller legs than me. Sometimes I believe that I am very thin, sometimes I think people must view me as pretty normal or naturally thin. My rule is, if I look fat from any angle, then I still have weight to lose. I still look chunky in some pictures, so I have not gotten to where I want to be. I have a picture in my mind of what 100 should have looked like, and I am not it. So many people even look healthy and beautiful at 100 and my height, but I am stuck with this unfortunate, disproportionate body, with thick, muscular legs and spindly arms. Eyes glaring out of a stony face, too tormented to spar with the mirror for very long. My arms a mass of blue veins, my hands reddened by poor circulation. I would be worried were it not me.
People seem to be staring at me all the time and it makes me feel terribly uneasy. I wish people on the street would stop eyeing me like a piece of prize meat. And I wish I could tell people, to their face, to cut the bullshit. I have this one friend who is slightly overweight, always complimenting my outfits, always making comments about how I should model. One day I am just going to turn to her and say, "I am mentally ill. The fact that you in any way envy me or find me attractive is disturbing. I would appreciate if you did not, ever, make any comments about my weight."
I used to be self-conscious because I thought I was offending people by being too fat and too ugly, and that they wished I would be put out of their sight. Now I feel guilty for possibly being emaciated, possibly being pallid beyond comparison, possibly just being a hideous creature. The one thing that remains unchanged is my belief that people are disgusted by me and want me to disappear.
I wish I could step past rational thought and lose myself in what I never was before, but I find myself on the threshold of many things, unable to cross over. I simply want to escape me, if only to observe me. I am a prisoner of my own desperate thought.
- Hornbacher, Wasted
I have a vague understanding of what I look like, but I am unable to get a sense of the bigger picture. I agree and disagree with various constructions of myself at various times. I know that I am thinner than most people, but some people have much smaller legs than me. Sometimes I believe that I am very thin, sometimes I think people must view me as pretty normal or naturally thin. My rule is, if I look fat from any angle, then I still have weight to lose. I still look chunky in some pictures, so I have not gotten to where I want to be. I have a picture in my mind of what 100 should have looked like, and I am not it. So many people even look healthy and beautiful at 100 and my height, but I am stuck with this unfortunate, disproportionate body, with thick, muscular legs and spindly arms. Eyes glaring out of a stony face, too tormented to spar with the mirror for very long. My arms a mass of blue veins, my hands reddened by poor circulation. I would be worried were it not me.
People seem to be staring at me all the time and it makes me feel terribly uneasy. I wish people on the street would stop eyeing me like a piece of prize meat. And I wish I could tell people, to their face, to cut the bullshit. I have this one friend who is slightly overweight, always complimenting my outfits, always making comments about how I should model. One day I am just going to turn to her and say, "I am mentally ill. The fact that you in any way envy me or find me attractive is disturbing. I would appreciate if you did not, ever, make any comments about my weight."
I used to be self-conscious because I thought I was offending people by being too fat and too ugly, and that they wished I would be put out of their sight. Now I feel guilty for possibly being emaciated, possibly being pallid beyond comparison, possibly just being a hideous creature. The one thing that remains unchanged is my belief that people are disgusted by me and want me to disappear.
I wish I could step past rational thought and lose myself in what I never was before, but I find myself on the threshold of many things, unable to cross over. I simply want to escape me, if only to observe me. I am a prisoner of my own desperate thought.