We are Beautiful

A couple of weeks ago, I announced that I was officially going to start selling the t-shirt I designed for this blog online. Thanks to all of your support, we've been able to spread body positivity one shirt at a time!

They all look different, but you can't deny how beautiful each of
these ladies are. 

I've said this before, but I firmly believe that beauty is intrinsic in all of us. Additionally, we tend to interchangeably associate attraction and beauty when they're really two totally different things.  

Beauty standards are ridiculous. They basically try to apply a "one-size-fits-all" approach to how all women see themselves. In reality, we come in different sizes, shapes, and colors. The way we look is like a genetic raffle--a once in a lifetime chance occurrence (well, technically each person is supposed have like 7 doppelgangers in the world--but even in that case, they probably wouldn't have the same mole that you have on your right foot or the same crease between your eyebrows that shows up when you sneeze...but this is beside the point.). It's also important to note that with all the possible combinations of genes in the world, it's physically impossible for all of us to naturally be what we see on the cover of magazines. 

So, why is it that we feel like all women have to look the same when diversity is in our very nature?

Why do we gamble so much of our self-worth on looking a certain way?

Theodore Roosevelt once said that, "Comparison is the thief of joy".

And I completely agree.

I don't know about anyone else, but in the past (especially during my eating disorders), I caught myself comparing my body to those of my sisters, my friends, my peers, and even strangers. For years, I not only hated myself for not matching up to them, but I also hated them based solely on the fact that they met standards I couldn't. 

I found validation for my own feelings of self-worth and beauty when I looked better than or just as good as those around me; and when I didn't, I felt worthless. In a sense, it felt like in order to gain the title of "beautiful", I had to either strip it away from someone else or risk having it taken from me. 

I think in order to feel better about ourselves, we need to think better of those around us. We need to actively stop our own thoughts of judgement (which later affect how we judge ourselves) that cross our minds when we see someone's body. Judgement, beauty standards, and body shame create a toxic environment where no one wins.

Womanhood should not be competition.

Every body is a good body.

Society teaches women that their worth and beauty are directly derived from their physical appearance. Not from who they are as living, thinking, and feeling individuals. 

Beauty has nothing to do with appearance and it doesn't have prerequisites.

You don't have to look like Cara Delevigne, Beyonce, your best friend, your cousin, or your sister to be beautiful.

Just be you.
Because you are enough.

And you are beautiful.

(~If you're interested in buying a shirt, click the shop link on the top or side navigation bar~)

I Am Beautiful.

A couple of weeks ago I decided to look for a shirt that had a body-positive quote on it to wear around campus and to promote this blog. However, despite my best efforts to find one, there were literally none to be found on any website or search engine online. Slightly bitter, I decided to take matters into my own hands and designed a shirt myself. I wanted something that not only looked cool, but that also caused me to feel good about myself--I wanted it to say what I believed in the simplest and loudest way possible.

Anyways, after about a week of going through what felt like hundreds of rough drafts on Photoshop (and harassing my friends and family members for their input), I was able to decide on my final design:

 

"I am beautiful."

Is it vain? No.
Is it empowering? Definitely.

Considering the journey that I've taken over the last five years, wearing this shirt in public is a mile-marker for me. When I was going through my eating disorders, I would have never identified myself as being beautiful; I hated every pound of my body, every glance in the mirror, every aspect of my being. I thought being beautiful only applied to the girls who were, well, beautiful. It seemed like a title earned only by the select few who happened to look the part (skinny, curvy, athletic, stylish, etc).

As I've gotten older, overcome my eating disorders, and moved on from the social pressures of high school, I realize that being beautiful and being attractive are two totally different things. Beauty isn't something that you can find by going to the gym, dieting, or throwing up in a toilet bowl (despite what society may tell us). Those habits usually stem from self-loathing and the act of securing your self-esteem by constantly manipulating your appearance to favor the ever-changing preferences of the world. Believing that you're beautiful occurs when your overlook your appearance and allow your self-esteem to be anchored by your own opinion of yourself.

Being beautiful isn't determined by how we look, being beautiful is a part of who we are; it's intrinsic to every individual.


I've always thought that it's funny how we're so quick to find beautiful things in other people, but so slow and stubborn when it comes to finding beauty in ourselves. Maybe it's because we live in a world where we're constantly told how inadequate we are and that we can never be beautiful on our own; there's always a new product, a new diet, or a new workout DVD that can make us "better".

As a result, we tend to apologize for our bodies, rather than applaud them.

Society would like to have us think that a "normal" or "ideal" woman is thin, non-handicapped, young, attractive, and fit. But let's be honest, out of the millions of women who live in this world, how many would actually meet these requirements?

If beauty is really in the eye of the beholder, shouldn't we work harder to see the value within ourselves rather than placing our value in the hands of others?

By proudly acknowledging that we are beautiful, we not only challenge the ridiculous standards of the world, we overcome them. We become liberated and powerful; a force to be reckoned with. A source for change.

I've found that as I've come to accept myself as beautiful, I've been able to love my body despite how I may look or what state I may be in. I've stopped comparing myself to those around me and stopped seeing myself as a contestant in a competition or an object under scrutiny. I judge less, and as a result, I see more.

Like dominoes, my health, self-esteem, and body image have fallen into place thanks to the simple act of seeing myself as something of value. Now I know that trends and cultural standards always change, but my worth as an individual will always stay the same.

Associating yourself with beauty isn't vain or prideful, it's a sign of confidence and self-esteem.
It's loving and accepting yourself on your own terms, in your own ways.
It's a badge of courage.
It's a conscious decision and a never-ending uphill battle.

Although I still might not be consistent in associating positive thoughts towards my body, I finally appreciate it for all that it is (and isn't).

My body may not fit the current textbook definition of beauty, but I am beautiful.

Why?

Because I think so.
And that's all that matters.

(If you're interested in buying a shirt like mine, contact me [Instagram, Facebook, email, etc] or let me know in the comments below. If at least 20 people sign up for one, it will only cost about $15 per shirt instead of the $30 that mine cost. Once that happens, I can open a store on the blog and we can move on from there! Thanks!)

UPDATE: The shop for the shirts is now open! See the top navigation menu above for the link!

Memories

After reading a kind comment from a grade school friend on my last post, I decided to re-read every post I've ever written on this blog.

Not only was I surprised to see how impeccable my sense of humor was (and still is-- in one post, I had the tenacity to use just about every possible word for "butt" known to the English language), but I was also surprised by how much I've forgotten about the events and emotions of my past.

(Here's a slide from an oral presentation I gave in my PSYCH 307 class. We had to write a literature review on a topic of our choice, and I chose to focus on the rates of mental health complications and eating disorders in female adolescents with type 1 diabetes--I'll make a post about my findings later. I'm still blown away by how different I look now, in comparison to the other photos.)


As I read through the posts (from recent to oldest), I saw myself prolapse in levels of maturity. My initial posts focused on losing weight and blaming others for my problems; I was ignorant, selfish and worst of all, a bully to myself.

Thanks to this experience, I realize that I'm a completely different person today than I was back then.
I like who I am, I like how I look, and I finally appreciate the hard things I had to endure.

I once read a tumblr post that said:

"today my professor told me

every cell in our entire body

is destroyed and replaced

every seven years.

how comforting it is to know

one day i will have a body

you will have never touched."

I wonder if the cells of our souls are destroyed and replaced overtime as well. Our experiences obviously shape us, but to what extent? Do they literally mold us into a new combination of ideas and beliefs?

How many people can we become over one lifetime?

I went on a date to a concert once and let me say, it was super awkward. I told my roommate about it afterwards, distraught that I would never be able to go to see that band again without thinking of that memory, and she told me: "Don't dwell on what happened. Go again and make a new memory. You deserve to."

Maybe that's the answer.

In the last few years, I've noticed that life often moves forward against our will. It causes us to create new memories that either replace or join with those of the past in a "sink or swim" situation. It allows us to grow and become more than we ever could have dreamed of becoming.

Usually, right under our own noses.

And you know what?
I'm grateful for it.





The Perks of

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

I've always put myself down. I guess I haven't ever completely loved myself.
When I was younger, I would look at myself in the mirror and say,
"You have a good body, but an ugly face".

Now all I see is someone who isn't worthy of receiving anything from anyone.
Nothing about me is good.

I think that sometimes we also give ourselves the life we think we deserve, even if it isn't true. It's human nature to cut ourselves short. For some, it can be a crippling, and chronic disability.

I often wonder if I have depression. It seems like depression isn't a disease given to a select few. Everyone has it, but it manifests itself when we're at our lowest. When we want to fall into nothingness. When we want to forget our insignificance in the world.

Sometimes I can't help but get mad. I get upset that no one seems to understand me. No one seems to want or know how to help me. They criticized me in the past for being cautious, but now they yell at me for giving in.

What do you expect of me?

I get that two people who are drowning can't save each other. Ironically enough, they probably don't even notice the other person struggling beside them.

I just want to be happy again.
Truly, happy.

Was I happy before this happened?
Or was it just so different from what I was before that I accepted it as happiness?

I really do put on a good face for those around me.
I don't understand why society seems to expect everyone to be a certain way.
Not physically, but emotionally.
It's considered taboo to show up at school and actually tell people how you feel.
Or even to let it show on your face.

Guys always want girls that are just a smile.
I guess girls are the same way.
Who would ever want to help another person carry their baggage?

I probably should be more optimistic.
I probably should be a lot of things.

Well, what are you going to do about it?

Valentine

I want to be loved so badly.

I tried my hardest today to put on a face that wouldn't let anyone see my hopes and disappointments fighting behind my phony smiles. I tried to turn today into a joke by wearing an ugly sweater with hearts and a family of sheep stitched across it. Ironically enough, I stopped trying for one moment and someone saw how I really felt. Jokingly she said it was the saddest thing she had ever seen, and jokingly, I said that I was just tired.

I guess I am tired. Tired of feeling worthless.

I think everyone wants to be loved. To have someone else think about you, dream about you and want to protect you. Obviously I've never been a guy, so I have no idea how their minds work when they find a girl that they really love. I'd like to imagine that a typical guy would go out of his way to be around her, and put forth effort to make her feel the same way he feels about her. This might sound horrible, but should also be a little jealous of other people that interact with her...monopolize her.

I don't have anyone I love right now or even anyone I "like".
I do want to fall in love though, and have someone fall in love with me...more than anything.
Sometimes, so much that it hurts. Almost like that burn that comes after or during a workout.
After all, the heart is a muscle too...

I was a little disappointed when no one sent me a "singing" Valentine, smiled my way, or even said "Happy Valentine's" today. I don't want a sappy high school hormone fit, I want something lasting.

Ha. I guess everyone does.

I wonder what it feels like to be in love. What does a hug from a boyfriend feel like? Is dating awkward, and when does it become natural? How do you become boyfriend and girlfriend? Is kissing all that it's cutout to be? Does kissing matter?...How do you kiss? What does love feel like? How do you know what love is?

I heard today that Valentine's Day is in honor of a priest who allowed Catholic couples to marry in a time when the Pope prohibited it...why have I never heard that before? I wonder if we should focus on the commitment side of the holiday rather than the romance...

I can't decide if I hate, or respect J. Alfred Prufrock more now.
Is he a coward, or a heart-breaker?

Has anyone ever loved me?

As far as love goes, I try to engulf myself in imaginary worlds rather than reality.
Hmmm...I do the same thing when I try to escape depression...

I have a "I need a boyfriend" playlist on my Ipod. It's full of songs that comprise of men singing of sweet nothings.

I'm scared that the media has increased my expectations of love.

I want to be loved.
But I guess I have to learn to love myself first.

Teen Troubles

I was flipping through the channels today and came across a show on Lifetime called, "Teen Trouble". On the show, Josh Shipp, a teen behavior expert, tries to help teens overcome their drug addictions, or harmful behaviors. The episode I happened to watch was about a girl in California named Ashley, and she was addicted to meth, heroine, and other substances.

When Josh met with her, he said that we all know that addictive behaviors are destructive, but at least they feel familiar to us. Change is scary. He then went on to say when Ashley changes, she is the hero. It's her life at stake, and when she turns it around, she is the one to be celebrated. She was fighting the hardest battle of her life.

As I heard Ashley talk about her experience with addiction, I couldn't help but hear myself in her voice. Although our addictions are totally different, the emotions, and motions are similar. She said that once she started using, she felt like her soul just left and everything just kept getting worse. She felt worthless, and that made her use more. Josh went on to say that once she realized her value she would naturally want to protect herself. From drugs, abuse, and self-defeating thoughts. 

From the moment I started watching the show, I couldn't help but think back to my first visit to the FUN clinic with my mom. Ashley's mom acted almost exactly as my mom did. I guess I've resented my mom for the longest time for how she has treated me, and thought of me since learning of my addiction. She was never adequate enough for what I thought were my needs, and ignorant of how she talked of me to others. She didn't understand anything. She always turned the conversation back to her needs rather than mine at clinic visits, it seemed selfish to me. Just like a few weeks ago when she told my therapist that the reason why I still binged was because individually I didn't follow through on things. I hated her for how she acted. 

After watching Ashley's mom, I realized now that my mom felt just as much a victim as I did. I also realize though why my mom upset me so much. Josh told her that because she felt like a victim she couldn't resist fighting back when Ashley "attacked", but she was just putting gas on a fire, making things worse. She needed to spend less time arguing with her, and more time helping her. To not rage, but to disengage. I can't tell you how many times I wished my mom would have done this.  I felt disappointed if she wasn't calm or collected when I had a mental breakdown, which often angered me even more. I was emotionally raw, why couldn't she realize that?

 I'm not trying to pin myself as her victim, but I think that my addiction victimized both of us. She felt like she was trying to save herself from drowning, but forgot that I was drowning next her (and vice-versa). Ashley's mom went on to say that she felt betrayed by her daughter, and was hurt. 

It's funny to watch Ashley as she reacted to the consequences of her actions, she went from enraged to humble in thirty minutes. The same would happen to me. But she did need space when she was "flipping out", and Josh said it perfectly, "the best thing you can do...is give them space". Heck, I can't tell you how many times I wished that my mom would just let me calm down on my own, let me get back to a rational level of thinking. 

Ashley said that she should be able to do anything to get her life back, herself back. I've thought the same thing so many times throughout the past two years. I guess I lost faith in myself and those around me. She also said that she used to try and keep her past life "private", she didn't want anyone to see what she had been doing, she would put up a wall so that no one could hurt her.  I've felt the exact same way. She struggled with the fact that her dad was distance physically, and I guess I've always struggled with my dad being distant emotionally. 

Ashley also relapsed, but she didn't give up. For a period of my life, I had given up after my first relapse. I still feel defeated whenever I fall back into old habits. I've relapsed four times, and each time is just as hard as the last. 

I'm not going to give up though...I hope.

What Will You Lose?

Today I overheard a commercial on my TV (it was for a weight-loss cereal) that said, "What will you gain, when you lose?"  I couldn't help but wonder, "What did I lose, when I gained?". 

A lot, I guess.

Failing at Succeding

Where to begin with today's misadventures...

Well, I continue to impress myself with how frequently, and willingly, I seem to fail at living.

This is in no way a pity party, or a way to have anyone feel sorry for me, but I feel like lately I seem to succeed at failing, and fail at suceeding.

I did so well until an hour after dinner. Ultimately, I ended up eating about a 1/3 of a cereal box, plus a little extra on the side.

I didn't purge though.
I was definitely tempted, but I didn't.

I feel so fat right now. I mean, I feel fat all of the time, but having a stretched out stomach only makes it more of a reality rather than an ideology I hold concerning myself.

I wish I had something really upbeat to say right now, but frankly, I've got nothing.

I read a blog today that was definitely on the liberal side of writing. Although it was too extreme for my tastes, I couldn't help wanting to be like her. To be someone different, someone radical.

I saw something on Pinterest today that had a picture of some super fit legs with a caption that said, "Would you rather have french fries, or a gap between your thighs?"

Honestly, that little gap is one of the things I miss the most about the old me. I miss my friend, my role model.

I wish I had more confidence that I could make my past my future, but one can only fail so many times before losing hope.

I've decided that my "Nom De Plume" (more or less applicable to it's actual definition) is positivity. No one has no idea how painful my very existance has been lately. I don't even talk to my mom anymore. It just isn't worth it.

I don't know what to do with myself.

Musings of a Sunday Night

Do most problems in life arise from expecting too much, or accepting too little of ourselves?

I feel like bingeing is often the forgotten, or unknown eating disorder. It's common in lives of many people, but often goes unrecognized, or undiagnosed.

Well, there isn't exactly a cure either.

Lately, whenever I meet someone new, I find myself wanting to shout, "I didn't always look like this! I actually was quite attractive, powerful, and popular for a year!"

I wonder if that is because my own insecurities need assurance, or as an act to safeguard my remaining pride...

One thing I did notice when I was smaller, was that with beauty (and a small pant-size) comes great power. It's understandable that Helen of Troy had so much influence over those around her due to her looks. Beauty is something that is feared, envied, respected, admired, coveted, and emulated...especially in the world of high school.

I'll admit that when I was a size four, I looked down on those who were larger (even by a little bit), or unhealthier than I was at the time. Now, I can't help but wonder if people think the same of me. I also fear the idea that people are glad that I gained back the weight, that I was defeated.

I never was intentionally rude to anyone, but I definitely was more than a little prideful. And honestly, I think I deserved to be. I worked hard to lose that weight, and wanted my moment in the sun more than anything else.

Now, I just want to hide in the shadows.

What are "acceptable" curves?

I understand that a big chest, and a big bum can go a long way, but what about the other curves? Like pot bellies, flabby arms, chin fat, and back rolls? What about the stretch marks, jiggles, and health problems that are also included?

I think it's funny that skinny individuals are often the ones that say we need to accept how our bodies look. They can say that because they literally don't have much to accept.Would those same women change places with another person who is morbidly obese, and still think that they are beautiful after dealing with the insecurities, and complications of everyday life?

 I think that there are definite body types in the world, but where is the line drawn between thick boned, and over-weight? Which one was genetic, and which was preventable? Personally, I think that if you have a protruding stomach, then something isn't natural (unless, that is, you're pregnant....). Should we be telling a 200 lbs. 10 year old girl to love her body when she clearly is not healthy for her age?

Do women often go through these feelings as their bodies change with age? Can I parallel my emotions, and experiences with theirs?

Gosh. I do not want to go Black Friday shopping this year. I'm just going to get depressed.

Plus, I have no clothes that hide my stomach anymore, and my pants barely fit me.

My stomach floods over the waistline.

I had a lot more that I wanted to say before I sat down to type this up, but I think it can wait for another time.

This was nice. Let's do this again sometime.