The last three days have been a battle.
I’ve always had self esteem issues about being heavier.
In high school, one of my best friends lost her brother and I went to comfort her. In the process of getting her out of the house and thinking on happier things, we ran into another friend of ours who also happened to be the person I had a HUGE crush on.
The three of us were hoping a wall as a “shortcut” to get to the Wendy’s. However, we underestimated the height of the wall until we were literally sitting on top of it.
My crush, being the tallest of the three of us, jumped over seamlessly. He encouraged my friend and I to follow him and jump into his arms so that he could act as a buffer so we wouldn’t hit the ground as hard. First, my friend jumped, no problem. She was about twenty to twenty-five pounds lighter than I was. I, on the other hand, refused to jump into his arms. I was so afraid that I would “knock him over” or he realize how heavy I actually was and humiliate me about it till forever. So I jumped. Straight onto the concrete and then fell. I almost tore my ACL that day.
In college, I began to feel better about my weight after I met my first MAJOR boyfriend. He was slimmer than I was and didn’t think I was heavy at all. He made me feel beautiful. And it was genuine. Then I started having sex. And sadly enough, the fact that I was desirable, physically, made me more confident.
All throughout College, I realized I was beautiful. And even when I came home post graduation, I knew that even though I was not as slim as my sister or other peers I was still sexy. Even now and then I still feel that way. However, recently it’s more few and far between.
So fast forward to the most recent episodes of my life and it becomes hard to shake. I’d been going to the gym pretty consistently for a while. Eating healthier. Cutting portions. Cutting sweets (my downfall). But the last three or four weeks I’ve been slacking. Just found out my gym buddy is preggers and so I have not had the urgency to go.
Two days ago, my grandmother approached me with concern. She questioned if there is a “feminine” issue going on that is causing my stomach to stick out. Mind you, my stomach is not protruding, but it is sticking out. I tell her no, I’ve just been gaining weight. Her response, “oh.”
Then, yesterday, I go to spend time with my paternal great-grandmother and she proceeds to inquire on how and when did I get so “wide”. To put it into context:
One, she has dementia-Early onset Alzheimers.
Two, she has never, in her right mind or not so right mind EVER drawn attention to my weight.
So, I’m a bit taken aback but even more almost wounded. What do you say?
Then today, I greet my grandmother (same one from earlier) to ask her about her day because I had not seen her since the day before yesterday. She looks at me and laughs.
She quickly apologizes and says she did not mean to laugh but... and never finishes her thought.
I already am withdrawn. But I press on because I love my grandmother and I know she loves me. So I ask her about her day and what’s been up the last 48 hours. She tells me about work and prayer. She tells me about visiting with her mom and the concerns she’s had about her emotional state. She asked what I had been up to and my response was the typical, pretty much nothing but the usual. She asks if I went to the gym. I tell her no. She laughs again and says, “yeah, I could already tell.” Shots. Sniper rounds. I’m hurt.
And though I’m grateful to my lovely girlfriends who are the best when you need a game night and cinnabon. Being with them and listening to them talk about their husbands is hard. I have to sit in the corner and literally remind them I have nothing to offer that convo.
I’ve been looking at my exs. Observing them. Not in a stalker way but, almost in a nostalgic, reviewing, learning kind of way. It’s sick. As my D-Real put it, it’s “torture”. And it’s not even all of them. It’s the “ones that got away”. The ones where, I was never trying to fall for them and I did. I fell hard. I fell hard and they crushed me by ending it when I didn’t see it coming. The ones where, they built me up so high and made me believe I was “an answer to prayer”*. I guess I wasn’t the right answer.
These guys have gone on to live beautiful lives. One is finishing Med School, another has just done a shoot with USAA, another one just graduated from undergrad (a ceremony we planned on being at together our entire relationship) and is working doing something he loves and I’m at home procrastinating. I am single. I have no real job security. I am pushing myself so that I can GET INTO grad school- THREE YEARS AFTER UNDERGRAD! (and not for lack of trying).
Don’t get it confused, none of them are slime. They are just shooting stars I’ve witnessed passing and had the opportunity to touch, if only for a short period.
So, yeah. The last three days may not seem like a real struggle but for me, it is. I am constantly fighting to not give up on myself or possibilities for the future. I am fighting the urge to loathe and self-harm. I am constantly pulling a Doctor Strange and looking at and trying to solve the issues of different reality selves. It hurts. I’m crying on the inside (because crying on the outside draws too much attention). But I’m also trying to be stronger for me. So if this reaches anyones eyes. Pray for me.
