I’m guilty. VERY guilty of being incredibly cruel to somebody – namely me. You would not believe the awful, hateful things I’ve said to and about myself and my body over the years.
Although I would never do this, in moments of insanity I have been guilty of thinking, ‘you know… I could just slice the fat off of me with a knife. No really, it would TOTALLY work.’
I’ve sustained injuries, insults and humiliations and responded with a shrug and a response of, ‘well I deserved that, I’m fat.’
I’ve over-reacted horribly to bad social situations, jobs for which I’ve been turned down and other assorted normal life rejections with, ‘well of course they didn’t want me, I’m fat.’
I’ve refused shopping trips, cute outfits, excursions and roller coaster rides all with the same lame excuse, ‘I couldn’t possibly wear / do / go to that. I’m fat.’
And it is an excuse.
That’s not my point though…
This stupid, stupid crap doesn’t just hurt you when you do it to yourself. It hurts the people around you. It hurts the friend who thinks you’re amazing, it hurts the child to whom you are the center of the universe, and it hurts the lover for whom you are an absolute goddess. It invalidates and dismisses all that they see in you as meaningless. Worthless.
It also hurts the person listening to you who may be heavier than you who is struggling to love and accept themselves the way they are. And when you tear into yourself with such vitriol, makes them wonder, ‘oh my gosh – if they hate themselves so deeply, and I’m so much bigger… what horrible thing must they think of me?’
So before you rip yourself to absolute shreds, stop – take a breath, and look around.
Look down. Do your legs work? Do they take you where you want to go? Then those are good legs. Do your arms lift what you want them to and hands create beauty? Then those are good arms. Does your body bring wonder and pleasure to someone? Then that is a good, good body.
Stop. Breathe. Let it go. Look around you.