I’ve been attempting to write a post on body image for weeks, possibly over a month. Other posts just seemed to have flowed out until I hit this topic. It stalled me. Being the stubborn person that I am, I can’t just pick a new topic and forget this one. So, I’ve been sitting here trying to get this post out. Then it hit me, I couldn’t find the words to share because I’m not done piecing together my body image. It’s still fluctuating and evolving. Though most people’s body image is rarely a stagnant thing. I have yet to meet somebody who feels sexy and attractive every day, all day long. We’re human; we have good days and bad days. Sometimes others influence it; sometimes it’s our own mindset that decides how we’ll feel that day.

During elementary school, I was always one of the taller people in the class, and I always weighed a little bit more. I’ve always had a curvy figure, even when I was young. Oddly enough, it wasn’t the curves that bothered me at that point, it was the height. Now, years later, I can’t recall why. Everybody I know now is either my height or taller, very few are shorter.

When I was in high school, I was put on a medication for asthma. One of the side affects of it was weight gain, but I was told it was very rare and only one out of one hundred people actually gained weight. I was that one. I gained quite a bit of weight, and to add salt to that wound, the medication didn’t work for me, it actually made my asthma worse. So for the time I was on it, I couldn’t really exercise or take part in the gym classes. I walked once around the gym and I couldn’t breathe. So I spent around a year on this medication before we caught what it was doing. During that year, I put on weight. Following that year, I put on weight.

By this time, I weighed significantly more than pretty much everybody else around me. My self-esteem was non-existent, and my body image was what I equate to a black hole. I hid in my clothing. I very rarely went outside without a sweater or something to cover me up. I wasn’t comfortable in just a regular shirt, even in the middle of summer. This went on for a long time.

The process of accepting myself, and my body, is and was a long one. I slowly pulled out of that shell, and I do mean slowly. I went from sweaters to zip ups that I could leave undone. Again, I wore those everywhere I went, even if it was hot outside. I remember telling people I was just always cold, because I didn’t want to tell them the real reason for it. Now, I’m wearing regular shirts out without a second thought most days. I prefer low cut shirts that show off something, and I rarely wear sweaters or zip ups, and when I do they feel bulky. Before they felt safe, like a nice little hidey-hole I could carry around on me. I no longer feel the need for that hole.

So how did I get to this point? I spent a long time in my own head trying to find the root of my body issues. There was a boy that liked to pick on me and make fun of my weight, but if it wasn’t my weight it would have been something else. He never did like me. I was pretty lucky with my group of friends. It was varied enough, and included enough guys, that they squashed anything anybody else tried to start, at first. Then it got to the point where it was just the one boy that picked on me every day. He was friends with one of the guys I was pretty close with, and who knew me very well. He stepped in before I would get to the point of having enough, because my stopping points get blurry at times. Then one day, that friend just stopped getting in the middle of it. He was tired of refereeing and just let me go. Without going into not very nice details, the boy left me alone for a long time after that. Even now, when I’m around town and he sees me he rarely says anything, and when he does he won’t come near me. Standing up to him myself instead of letting my friend do it helped a lot, even if he does still say something when he’s around and it happens. Other than that one person, I was never really bullied in school like a lot of people are. I had a good set of friends at the time. I relied a lot on my brain and wit, and more often than not, they came through. For the people that do remember me, it’s usually snarky comments they recall.

There was one place where I did get bullied though, and that was in my family. I’m sure they don’t see it as bullying, but year after year the little comments dug deeper and deeper in my head. The “helpful” comments were the worst for me. Being told “You shouldn’t eat that,” “We need to get that weight off of you,” and a number of other things. Some worse things that I’d rather not recall only served to dig me deeper into the hole I was in. I know it wasn’t intended as bullying, and they were only trying to help, to educate and see me do better, but those things still hurt. There’s nothing worse than thinking poorly of yourself and having it reflected back to you by people who are supposed to care about you and not see, or at least not point out, your flaws.

Everything that happened added to my own insecurity, and just built upon it until I was both physically hiding in my clothes and hiding in general. I was never comfortable going out, especially to eat. I was always really self-conscious, and I still am some days. I was also very quiet, trying to not draw attention to myself. In school and in general, if people weren’t in my circle of friends I didn’t talk to them. I didn’t join in on the extra activities. If I could get out of things, I did. Even with my family, I was very quiet and held back a lot of the time.

I don’t think I can actually pinpoint when things started to change, or say for sure why. Part of this is because I am still changing, I’m still adapting and becoming more comfortable. In the last little while, I’ve lost twenty pounds and that has helped a lot. It’s the first time in my life I’ve actually been able to lose weight and maintain it. My body seems to finally be straightening out. Another big reason for the change is the guy I’m with (boyfriend just always seems to sound wrong). He’s supportive in helping me lose weight, and a support system is really a huge help. He also doesn’t let me hide. He’s the only person that hasn’t, not physically, emotionally, or mentally. He did for a while, then he started tearing down every wall I had. It wasn’t long ago that he made me finally strip for him. I was so scared and uncomfortable being naked in front of him, and having him see me, that I teared-up and cried a bit, but I did it, and I needed it. Up until that point I was doing okay, and getting a little more confident. But being forced to take down that wall myself, and have him still be there in the end, helped a lot. It let me know that a lot of my issues are in my head, and he doesn’t see them as a huge deal. He doesn’t feed into that fear or my issues at all. I’m not as conscious of it anymore. I’m happier and more outgoing. However, that also started around the time I started with this guy, because he accepted me. I wasn’t so busy hiding anymore since I learned to accept myself.

I am doing better, but I know I have a long way to go yet. I have more weight to lose, but now I know I can be comfortable at this weight too. I have days where my head goes dark and tries to suck me back into that old mindset, but those days pass, and I have a lot more good ones lately. Accepting myself, and my body; being free of that black hole, and all those bulky sweaters has made every bump along the road, every tear I’ve shed over this worth it, because I’m happy. My body image is evolving and fluctuating, but it’s heading somewhere better.