For now...
Feb. 24th, 2002 06:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blustockingIf you have any respect for me, you probably don't want to read this.
It's icky.
Okay, yeah, so let's face it. I have image issues. Whether these be with how I view beauty, where I find it, or how much importance I place on it, I have them. The fact that I have these issues is messy, sloppy, and ugly. I don't want to talk about it and no one wants to hear it.
But I will, because I have to, and I am....*cue theme music* SADO-MASOCHISTIC!
Not to mention the deep need I have of "figurin' things out".
So here's the deal...
I haven't had time to adjust to how I look, nor do I want to. I have seen what I used to look like and to see what I've become makes me ill. I prize beauty and "attractiveness" highly, no...HIGHLY. Yeah, I'm a Libra and for those of you who don't believe in Astrology mumbo-jumbo, fuck you...it fits me. I take so many pictures of myself to prove to myself, and possibly others, that I am pretty/desirable/whatever. The more grotesque I get, the less frequent these "affirmations" become. In turn, every time I see a horrible picture of me, which is becoming QUITE frequent, it takes a big ol' chip off the self-esteem block...more so than it should, normally. Yes, yes, I will be doing something about it. Just let me whine for a bit. So yes, good pictures=proof of me being worthy in me knotty head.
I recently saw some fucking horrid pictures of me. It's hard to disconnect. It's hard to not think, "Holy shit, is that what people see...everyday...when I'm talking to them?!" It's hard not to want to crawl into a fucking cave and live my life as an arrogant troll.
What is also hard to deal with is the slap in the face that my current image affords me. I feel my body, literally, and though not near what I would like it to be, it doesn't seem that bad. I see it occasionally and it doesn't seem to be that bad. Then I'm confronted with an image contradictory and who am I to believe? Though becoming less and less so, I see myself in my head as I used to be. My inward image doesn't always (if ever) mesh with the outside. So when I see pictures or look in a mirror that is less-than-flattering, it completely shatters what I previously thought. Occasionally, I'll delude myself into thinking I can wear something that I used to wear not only 2 years ago, only to try it on and be quite dismayed. In short, my body used to match what my face sometimes is...attractive.
Lately, my face isn't what I thought it was either. This shakes my foundation. The shaky foundation that I built up on the superficial sand of "It's okay, see, I'm pretty. I have pictures to prove it." I need to find other ways to boost my confidence, my self-esteem. But this is all I've known, this is who I am. Change that? Sure, no problem.
My hands, I can't stand looking at my hands.
I used to think I was a writer. I used to be confident in that. And though I don't give a flying fuck if someone thinks I'm bad at it, even today, I don't have nearly as much confidence in that aspect of my life either...not as much as I used to. The same goes for art...though, I'm slowly realizing I would die faster without writing than without art. To combine the two would be ideal. Though I have much more confidence in my mediocre ability to string words together...that is to say, not much...anymore.
The temptation to yell, "FIX ME!" is great. The temptation to find someone to build me up is even greater. But I know this is no one's job, nor should it be. It's mine. Yay me. But how do you draw something out of nothing? How do you put a puzzle together in the dark?(I slapped myself FOR you.) How can you not want/need someone to be there, to help you? I don't know, but I can't put that on anyone, as much as I'd like to. Besides, no one's gonna come a callin' to the tune of my insecurities.
I'm probably going to dye my hair a different color, as this allows for a brief feeling of "newness", of something different. Change=better, prettier perhaps. I like getting noticed it would seem. I'm an arrogant twat with the self-esteem of a gnat who'd like the attention of an elephant stampeding down Main St. So yes, this is what I will do tonight, as well as continuing to work out. I will try and lose weight, just like I've been doing, and try not to pay so much attention to those horrible images of me, frozen in time. (It's the permanence of a photo that bothers me as well....hence why I destroy every less-than-savory image of myself. My two friends, Jason and Dennis, have quite a collection of horrible pictures of me, which they won't give to me or throw away. They think it's funny. It makes me twitch.) But I realize that it's not necessarily the weight I've gained, but how I view the weight I've gained. Even when I was wearing a size 6, I thought I was fat. (If I wanted to, here, I could blame society as well. In fact, I think I will...a little). I starved myself in high school, literally, did. not. eat. I still thought I was fat even though I look at my teeny little skirts and tops today and wonder HOW THE FUCK DID I FIT INTO THIS?! So, yes, body image, it sucks. I hate all of this. I hate having to talk about it. I hate having to say, "I'm gunna work on it." But I suppose it needs to be done. I shouldn't rely on others to make me feel better about myself.
It's icky.
Okay, yeah, so let's face it. I have image issues. Whether these be with how I view beauty, where I find it, or how much importance I place on it, I have them. The fact that I have these issues is messy, sloppy, and ugly. I don't want to talk about it and no one wants to hear it.
But I will, because I have to, and I am....*cue theme music* SADO-MASOCHISTIC!
Not to mention the deep need I have of "figurin' things out".
So here's the deal...
I haven't had time to adjust to how I look, nor do I want to. I have seen what I used to look like and to see what I've become makes me ill. I prize beauty and "attractiveness" highly, no...HIGHLY. Yeah, I'm a Libra and for those of you who don't believe in Astrology mumbo-jumbo, fuck you...it fits me. I take so many pictures of myself to prove to myself, and possibly others, that I am pretty/desirable/whatever. The more grotesque I get, the less frequent these "affirmations" become. In turn, every time I see a horrible picture of me, which is becoming QUITE frequent, it takes a big ol' chip off the self-esteem block...more so than it should, normally. Yes, yes, I will be doing something about it. Just let me whine for a bit. So yes, good pictures=proof of me being worthy in me knotty head.
I recently saw some fucking horrid pictures of me. It's hard to disconnect. It's hard to not think, "Holy shit, is that what people see...everyday...when I'm talking to them?!" It's hard not to want to crawl into a fucking cave and live my life as an arrogant troll.
What is also hard to deal with is the slap in the face that my current image affords me. I feel my body, literally, and though not near what I would like it to be, it doesn't seem that bad. I see it occasionally and it doesn't seem to be that bad. Then I'm confronted with an image contradictory and who am I to believe? Though becoming less and less so, I see myself in my head as I used to be. My inward image doesn't always (if ever) mesh with the outside. So when I see pictures or look in a mirror that is less-than-flattering, it completely shatters what I previously thought. Occasionally, I'll delude myself into thinking I can wear something that I used to wear not only 2 years ago, only to try it on and be quite dismayed. In short, my body used to match what my face sometimes is...attractive.
Lately, my face isn't what I thought it was either. This shakes my foundation. The shaky foundation that I built up on the superficial sand of "It's okay, see, I'm pretty. I have pictures to prove it." I need to find other ways to boost my confidence, my self-esteem. But this is all I've known, this is who I am. Change that? Sure, no problem.
My hands, I can't stand looking at my hands.
I used to think I was a writer. I used to be confident in that. And though I don't give a flying fuck if someone thinks I'm bad at it, even today, I don't have nearly as much confidence in that aspect of my life either...not as much as I used to. The same goes for art...though, I'm slowly realizing I would die faster without writing than without art. To combine the two would be ideal. Though I have much more confidence in my mediocre ability to string words together...that is to say, not much...anymore.
The temptation to yell, "FIX ME!" is great. The temptation to find someone to build me up is even greater. But I know this is no one's job, nor should it be. It's mine. Yay me. But how do you draw something out of nothing? How do you put a puzzle together in the dark?(I slapped myself FOR you.) How can you not want/need someone to be there, to help you? I don't know, but I can't put that on anyone, as much as I'd like to. Besides, no one's gonna come a callin' to the tune of my insecurities.
I'm probably going to dye my hair a different color, as this allows for a brief feeling of "newness", of something different. Change=better, prettier perhaps. I like getting noticed it would seem. I'm an arrogant twat with the self-esteem of a gnat who'd like the attention of an elephant stampeding down Main St. So yes, this is what I will do tonight, as well as continuing to work out. I will try and lose weight, just like I've been doing, and try not to pay so much attention to those horrible images of me, frozen in time. (It's the permanence of a photo that bothers me as well....hence why I destroy every less-than-savory image of myself. My two friends, Jason and Dennis, have quite a collection of horrible pictures of me, which they won't give to me or throw away. They think it's funny. It makes me twitch.) But I realize that it's not necessarily the weight I've gained, but how I view the weight I've gained. Even when I was wearing a size 6, I thought I was fat. (If I wanted to, here, I could blame society as well. In fact, I think I will...a little). I starved myself in high school, literally, did. not. eat. I still thought I was fat even though I look at my teeny little skirts and tops today and wonder HOW THE FUCK DID I FIT INTO THIS?! So, yes, body image, it sucks. I hate all of this. I hate having to talk about it. I hate having to say, "I'm gunna work on it." But I suppose it needs to be done. I shouldn't rely on others to make me feel better about myself.
