Skinny or fat or both or none?
Australian size 12 (US 8) is not fat, but in my reflection it is.
61kg (134 pounds) is not fat, but on my body it is.
The little pouch of fat around your stomach is natural, and crucial, but to me it is fat, it is evil, it is unnatural.
If my normal size doesn't fit me and I have to go up a size, that's it, I'm fat now.
I have trouble trying on clothes because if something doesn't fit, or doesn't fit right, i will cry, give up, contemplate weight loss shakes.
I want to have a flat stomach and a big butt like Instagram girls, even though those bodies are Photoshopped, and if they aren't, they likely aren't healthy. But that doesn't matter to me, because skinny is skinny, no matter the cost. A dream is a dream.
I want to be under 50kg (110 pounds) even if it makes me sick, because that is skinny, and then I might be happy with my body. But I can't diet or exercise due to severe depression.
I spend every minute of every day with my phone torch on, pointing it at my skin, finding every little blemish or clogged pore, and picking or squeezing my arms, breasts, thighs, face. Because every blemish MUST be gone. Everything must be perfect. But this only causes scarring. Which only makes me uglier.
When I look in the mirror, I only see a deformed, fat blob with dimples of cellulite on her thighs, and acne everywhere, and scars and stretch marks. But I want to see a skinny, sexy model.
Nothing about my body, from my eyes to my thighs, goes unnoticed, everything is hated in the highest form.
But that doesn't matter, right? Because "oh you're so skinny!" But I'm not.
I've been told by my mother I'm not exactly petite, to watch what I eat, that I get fatter on my period (which I do not), and when I first expressed dislike with my body as a young child of maybe nine years old, asking her "am i fat?" I was told that if I ever asked that again, she'd slap me. These things have stuck with me for years.
A girl in high school commented that I looked pregnant. I have thought that about my body ever since.
And the hatred is fuelled still by my self harming. I can't get enough, i keep cutting, creating more scars that I think are ugly and I hate and want to destroy, by only creating more.