And thought I looked ok.

Ok may not sound that fantastic in the grand scheme of things, but I will take ok over looking at myself and thinking how horrid and disgusting I am.

Ok, is Ok with me.

Images depicting my body in all of its glory, while addressing my relationship with food and stigmas which are often related to being overweight, such as name calling.

I stood and stared at my reflection staring back at me, and felt sick.

I spent the first five minutes or so squirming, trying to force my eyes to look directly into the mirror and the next five minutes assessing my body. I pulled on the fat that hangs from my arms, and shook my belly as if it was jelly. I felt the bumps and lumps, and traced the stretch marks. I got closer to the mirror to inspect the scars and discolouration from bras that rubbed my skin. I didnt like non of it, but i found myself thinking about all the things i had been through because of my body. 

The abuse in the street, the physical attack, and the bullying that i suffered for years all because of the way i looked. It’s like being fat means that people have a right to slag you off and make you feel bad. They have a right to talk to you with such hatred and disgust. But why when you have an argument, does your weight become a part of the problem? Only last year I was having problems with an ex housemate and my weight was brought up when he called me a fat bitch. I could understand the bitch part, because that’s how he perceived me at the time, but why fat. What did my weight have to do with that arguement? Nothing.

I realised that I didnt feel sick because of the way i looked, I felt sick at the thought of everything my body had to go through and the way I had made it suffer all because I felt so down on my self. I had let peoples words, and images of peoples bodies that I would have given anything to look like cause me pain. Not just emotional but physical. I had hurt myself and now I was left with the scars.