This post opened my eyes to how poorly I’ve been treating myself lately.
Anyone who is close to me, a distant acquaintance, or even just a follower of this blog has probably heard me complain about something in my life regarding my body. I step on a scale each week and nearly cry over a weight gain of less than a pound, reminding myself that I shouldn’t have eaten that cookie five days ago, and the reason why I’m “so fat” is because I only ran three times this week, not four.
How insane. How absolutely insane. Like my dear friend says, “We are lead to believe that as people, we are allowed to hate ourselves. In fact, we are allowed to love to hate ourselves.” I love to hate myself, and hate to love myself, truthfully.
I will stand in the bathroom before a shower and stare at my stomach, thinking of ways to make it go away…drastic ways. Starvation, surgery, ridiculous expectations for exercise routines – something to make me wake up the next day looking like the ideal image of myself in my head. I rarely go through with them, but allow these thoughts to take over; making me feel absolutely miserable inside.
This is the part where I would have a self-realization. I would say, “Jackie. Love yourself. Love who you are and the physical beauty will follow.” I can’t. I envy my friend for being able to be completely, 100% satisfied, confident, and proud of her current self – no matter her size, weight on the scale, or anything else. I am so proud to know her, and am in awe of her spirit, confidence, and true happiness.