Journalistic Integrity, Part II10:52:00 AM
Once upon a time (7/12/2010), I posted a blog entry named " More of that Journalistic Integrity BS " in which, much like the Great...
Once upon a time (7/12/2010), I posted a blog entry named "More of that Journalistic Integrity BS" in which, much like the Great Oz, I stepped out from behind the curtain to reveal myself:
I broke New Rule #3 ("I will not think badly about myself when I look in the mirror.") a gazillion times.
Heck, it's the rule I break most often, without fail. No only do I have an adversarial relationship with the mirror, I have an adversarial relationship with my body. (For all the bravado of FGvW, Robby is pretty insecure).
For as much as I scrutinized the photo above, I don't have the traditional type of body dysmorphic disorder where I think I'm larger than I truly am. I am quite the opposite. When I close my eyes and run my hands over my body, I see and feel the person underneath the fat suit. When I open my eyes, I'm disappointed with what I see--a body that doesn't represent who I am at this moment, but is the legacy of all the bad decisions that I've made and all the past pain in my life. I look at myself and don't see me. I see a prisoner.
This ties in to how many people say to me "but you aren't fat..." and how I feel bad calling myself FatGirlvsWorld when I know many women (and men) who are larger than I am. It's the fat brain (the one that fears gaining it all back). No matter how much weight I lose, how fast I run, how strong I am, or how much I truly love myself, I still think that my body just doesn't represent who I truly am on the inside. In other words, there's a cognitive dissonance between who I think I am (mentally, physically, etc.) and the physical reality of who I am. The result is frustration and scrutinizing.
Yesterday, I got a new bikini from H&M (as well as a dress and a light jacket). When in the dressing room, I was utterly horrified by the way the lighting made me look, but I closed my eyes and tried to let my inner vixen make the decision about whether or not I wanted the bikini. Inner vixen said yes, I do want this bikini.
I put it on when I got home and wanted to show the world my purchase, but my old nemesis, the mirror started playing tricks on me:
But in the end, I posted the picture (at 2 am... hours after I took the photo):
Nota bene: I'm not giving you the finger, I'm giving the fat the finger. Why?
So yes, I think too much. I intellectualize things that should be visceral and natural. But holding up that mirror to myself to understand why I think the way I do about my own body is the foundation work that I need in order to make a permanent change. Eventually the way I perceive myself/my body will match how I see myself/my body. Make sense?
In other news, RAWR -- I look pretty hot in the new bikini, eh? It's a great color on my pale ass, Irish skin.
BTW, I love all the tweets and blog posts that are flying in the face of magazines' "Bikini Ready Body" -- all you really need to wear a bikini is SPF and chutzpah.