As many people know... I've got issues. We all do. Past issues, present issues, inevitable future issues...etc.

It started up (again) this past fall when I enrolled in yoga teacher training--the lovely issue of body image. I was with 40 other women who were probably a size 0-6. Now, I am not any of those sizes, and I have breasts and an arse. Immediately, I felt like a failure--which, just writing that, makes me feel like even more of a failure, because I pride myself on being a feminist, and (trying) not to give a shit about fascist beauty standards that are unattainable and unhealthy. So, I now feel like a double failure. 

Rewind--when I was growing up I didn't have any major body issues. I was a dancer (ballet and jazz), and took class at least 4 times a week. Though, even in the best of shape, I still remember looking in those mirrors, because that's all you're faced with, thinking I could look better, thinner, etc. Looking back, this pisses me off.

Then something happened. I became horribly ill near the end of my sophomore year of high school--probably a culmination of being ostracized by my group of friends, depression/anxiety, and just a really bad virus or something. I had to leave school for four months--no one seemed to know what was wrong with me. I had horrible stomach pain--the worst ever.

I was weak, borderline anemic, depressed/anxious, and all I wanted was for someone to figure out what was wrong with me.

Eventually, the doctors did an abdominal ultrasound. Guess what they found? Gas. Pure gas. I was just "too gassy." How pathetic! I was immediately put on a liquid diet to fix this, and it worked, but there were other issues.

I was afraid of food. Every time I ate, I would worry that food would make me feel like it did before--which was so painful. I lost a lot of weight really quickly. I remember walking past a mirror at home one day, and I back-tracked, looked at myself, and thought I looked ghastly. During this time, I was also placed on anti-depressants, and was going to therapy twice a week.

Slowly, I began to dig my way out of this disorder (the weird eating habits, not the anxiety--'cause that's still here). I began to put weight back on, and was finally feeling like myself again.

Forward to present--I still have some bouts of disordered thinking regarding food, but haven't really acted on them. Though lately, my self-esteem seems to be somewhat low in regard to my appearance. I'm working on rebuilding myself. I'm working on ignoring my body dysmorphic disorder that tells me I'm ugly and obese.

...I wish I knew I was as beautiful as I pretend to be, because in my "pretend" world, I'm really fucking hot.