Posts tagged anonymous submission
Posts tagged anonymous submission
TRIGGER WARNING: SELF HARM
I have a tenuous relationship with my body. Oftentimes it feels like a prison, a barrier to a pure mental life, and in my more desperate moments I still wish I could shed it and escape the physical world completely.
I wear an insulin pump for my diabetes, have acne that I compulsively pick at, and numerous scars from my stint with self-harm (now more or less ended, thanks to antidepressants mostly). I also identify as neither male nor female, which has led to much of the “tenuousness” in the relationship with my distinctly “feminine” body, with its short stature and wide hips, although physical transition (see: top surgery scars) has eased some of that.
Between the scars, insulin pump, and genderqueer-ness, I feel like I never see anyone who looks like me, at least not in the media. I often get questioned about those three things, and I feel like I must either hide them or face endless side-glances and semi-inappropriate questions. Usually I opt for the latter because it’s more convenient to tell someone to fuck off than to alter my whole wardrobe. But more nobly—maybe someone dealing with the same stuff will see me out, alive and unashamed, and we’ll both feel less alone.
I hope this isn’t inappropriate; I noticed other full body nudes, so presumably it’s okay.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to accept my small member, but I am trying. It seems it’s considered okay to publicly deride men for something theycannot change. I believe this should be discussed more often.
The rubber bands on my wrist are there to combat suicidal thoughts, many of which are directly related to my body image issues. I have other things I am insecure about: Stretch marks, bumps, moles, etc.
I shouldn’t have to feel unlovable, or fear rejection because of my body! I am a loving, and even romantic man; I deserve love and intimacy like anyone else.
TW: Mention of EDNOS
I’ve struggled with bad body image and EDNOS for most of my life. I’m 20 years old now, and I’m done hating my body.
All my life I felt like “the fat friend.” People always told me I had a pretty face, but that I could stand to lose a few pounds. I began binge eating in high school and was sucked up in the viscous cycle of restricting and binging. I’m doing a lot better and haven’t binged in a while. If you struggle with any sort of disordered eating: there is hope.
One of the biggest things that helped me overcome the negativity about my body was running. I started running and everything changed. When I run, I don’t think about how many calories I’m burning, I think about how awesome running feels and how excited I get when I can run further and faster than I did yesterday. Running helped me realize how amazing my body is.
And of course, I owe a lot of my confidence to my girlfriend for always making me feel beautiful no matter what. She taught me that it doesn’t matter what other people think of me, only what I think of myself.
When I took this picture, in all honesty, I was expecting to be disgusted with what I saw. Well, to my amazement, I fell in love with this picture and with my body. I realized that I wasn’t seeing my body the way it really was, I had this distorted image in my mind that was crippling my self esteem.
I’ve always been self-conscious about my stomach, but this picture helped me fall in love with it. My stomach is beautiful, as is the rest of me. I will never have a flat stomach, but that’s okay with me. I love my curves.
You are more than your weight or pants size. Your body is beautiful and perfect in its own unique way. Your body deserves your love.
I used to be insecure about my stomach and chest growing up as a boy. I don’t have the hypermasculine physique that society unfairly demands us men to have. I used to obsess if my stomach was too soft or if I had man boobs. I used to not go with my shirt off at all. I no longer anymore as I refuse to conform to these standards of hypermasculine ideals. Instead, I love that my stomach protects my internal organs and that underneath my chest holds my heart. My body’s importance is that it is the vessel for my soul and the carrier of the blood of my ancestors from Africa, Mississippi Valley, Mexico, England, and Spain. I don’t strive for that hypermasculine ideal through dieting, overexercising, drugs, or whatever stress that will come with it. I still have insecurities, but they’re withering away with my growing confidence and pride.
sorry for the mirror shot, I couldn’t get a good picture otherwise.
For a long time, I didn’t realize that I had a problem with self-esteem. I thought insecurities were just to be expected. But a few years ago, I realized that I had insecurities that I really wanted to overcome. My friends, since I was in sixth grade, would always tell me how skinny I was. All the time. “You’re too skinny,” is what they would say. I would play it off as a compliment, but it actually really bothered me. Because I didn’t agree with them. I wore clothes that hid my “muffin top,” as I called it. I was so insecure about the extra fat on my hips, which is where all my extra fat ended up. I would wear pants with high waistbands so that they would cover my hips, and I stopped wearing bikinis because the bottoms didn’t hide my hips. I may have been “skinny,” but I wasn’t happy about it, like so many of my friends expected me to be.
Things continued like that for me for years. Now, as a soon-to-be-graduated senior in high school, I’ve finally accepted my body. I’ve realized that my body has a certain place to keep fat, and that that’s okay. I’m excited to start going to the gym and exercising, and hopefully to better the parts of my body that I’m more proud of, like my legs and my stomach. I’m excited to wear a bikini this summer and be proud of my body and the way I feel about it now. I’m excited to be able to look in the mirror and think “Hey, you’re pretty beautiful.” I know that I’ve got a bit of a ways to go, but I’m pretty dang proud of how far I’ve come with myself.
This is me and I’m finally starting to believe I am beautiful.
Honestly, I took a lot of pictures before choosing this one to submit. I chose this one because it makes me feel good about myself when I look at it, which was something none of the other pictures did. I’ve had body and self-image issues ever since I was in 5th grade and started realizing that my body was different than the other girls’, my arms were bigger and so were my thighs. It also didn’t help that one day in 5th grade the boy I liked poked my thigh (I was wearing shorts) and said, “chubby.” It was the first time anyone had actually said anything to make me feel like my body issues were justified, like I wasn’t the only one who noticed. And it hurt. They say it just takes one insult to bring it all crashing down and it did. After that, I started thinking everyone was talking about me and my body behind my back, making fun of me. I began to wear baggy clothes just as an effort to feel smaller. It only made me feel worse, because I would see the girls in their cute skinny jeans and dresses and I felt so insecure and unattractive. It went on like this until 7th grade. In middle school, the important things are to have cute clothes and a cute boyfriend, or at least that was how it seemed to me. And I didn’t have ether of those. I had started martial arts over the summer because my mom felt like it would improve my confidence, I loved the sport, but it did nothing for my confidence. I turned to self-harming because it seemed to be the one thing I could control, I had tried losing weight but it hadn’t worked. I would burn myself everyday when I got home because I just felt so small in spirit but so big in body and I was so depressed. I had a best friend at the time and I thought maybe things would be looking up because she was so pretty and nice and if she was friends with me, there had to be something there in me. It turned out she would talk about me and say derogatory things about me behind my back to her other friends. When I found out, I was heart broken, especially when I heard that their main source of amusement in her comments came from when she made fun of my body. I ended up trying to become invisible. I went to even baggier clothes and burned even more, trying to avoid everyone because I felt like all they wanted to do was make fun of me. I hid like this until 9th grade. In 9th grade, I finally made a friend. The best friend I’ve ever had and she is still changing my life even 2 years later. She understood me because she was going through the same thing. She showed me her scars and I showed her my burns and we promised we’d make it through together. She started helping me see that I wasn’t “fat,” I was muscular from martial arts and that it was okay because I was still beautiful. To say fuck other people, the ones who really matter think that I was gorgeous inside and out. She saved my life and made me feel like I was pretty and worth it and I try to tell her everyday how much I love her for it. She likes to say we saved each other and I truly believe that, because nether of us would be here if we hadn’t found each other. I still sometimes struggle to see my body as she does, beautiful, but I’m getting there. It has to be the best feeling in the world, finally being able to accept yourself and I cannot wait until I can fully experience it.
Hello! My main focus here will be breasts! Mine, mostly.
Even though I’ve never been at war against my body, I did have a few insecurities about it, I believe. As a teenager, even though I was rather pleased to see my my boobs getting quite big, I felt quite unhappy to see them start to sag, while (in my mind) all teenagers and twenty-something people with boobs had them “perky”. Turns out it’s not always the case, there are many factors that can make boobs grow saggy, weight is one of them. And it is NOT a tragedy.
I was also insecure about my areolas, which I found too large and uncute. Turns out I was being very silly. Turns out boobs and areolas and nipples and everything come into different sizes and shapes, and this variety is beautiful.
So my message here is more directed towards people with breasts that are bigger than average and might be worried about them being saggy (that was my obsession for a while): Your chest does look good. Your breasts’ sagginess or the fact that they’re asymmetrical or that the areolas are not small, well-defined circles do not make them unattractive.
I have learnt to accept and love my breasts as well as the rest of my body, and I hope that every single one of you following this blog will end up loving their bodies, if that is not already the case. I know it can be rather difficult, but do not give up.
(Why is there also a shot of my back, you might wonder? I just generally like backs, so I shared mine ;))
*trigger warnings: anorexia*
I’ve been following this blog for a long time, but have always been too afraid to post anything. So here I go. I have a history of self-harm/hospitalization and was diagnosed with anorexia about 4 years ago. However, despite many treatments and subsequent relapses, right now I am doing better than I have ever been.
Last summer, I had a bad relapse, but I was inspired by this website to try and think of something I loved about my body each day. I found the best outlet for me was photography. I took a photo of myself every day or so, and learned toappreciate my body for what it was.
I took this photo on a self-timer last summer. I was in a very bad place at that time, one of my worst relapses, secretly purging multiple times a day and restricting. I would cry every time I looked at my body in the mirror. Meals were hell. But then I saw the photo. It was one of the first times I saw myself naked in a photo and I didn’t cringe. I couldn’t believe it was me. It made me realize that no matter how bleak you feel recovery may be, there is always hope.
Right now, I am…content. Happy. Food is not the only thing on my mind anymore. I am free to pursue other interests beyond obsessively counting calories and exercising until I pass out. Some days are worse than others, but whenever I hear that little voice in my head telling me to go back to anorexia, I look at this photo and tell myself, “I am better than this. I am more than my eating disorder.”
Every day is a battle, but we alone are the ones that can decide the outcome.
I have been at war with my body since I was in elementary school. I have a fat-phobic family, and comparisons of my larger frame to the tiny one of my sister/friends finally got to me. I lost about 35 pounds in high school. It went from “healthy” eating and exercise habits to obsessive patterns and behaviors that took over my life within a year. I was never *medically* underweight, according to the BMI scale (which I believe is complete bullshit). According to the BMI scale and medical doctors, I was at a very healthy weight for my height. However, I lost my menstrual cycle…..for TWO AND A HALF YEARS. How is THAT healthy?????
I was praised by my family, especially my mother, for my weight loss. But unbeknownst to them, my ‘perfect’ exterior was covering up a shattered interior—my obsessions with food, calories, and weight were ruining my life. I went through a very difficult stage of depression and gained weight last year, somewhat unhealthily, with irregular eating (restricting then bingeing, and also the consumption of too much alcohol) and finally went to an outpatient treatment center. Almost a year later, I am no longer depressed, and I am still at a higher weight than when I was in the depths of my ED. According to the BMI scale, I am “overweight”. I have gained 25 pounds since my lowest weight—the weight at which I struggled the most, hated myself the most, didn’t have a period, and felt the most disgusting—and honestly, I don’t care. I like my curves. Not 24/7, but most of the time. And I like being softer. I like feeling as though I can exercise moderately and eat like a normal person and not think about food constantly. I finally have tons of friends. Guys talk to me because I’m confident and bubbly and like myself. They like my ass. I like my ass. I have a woman’s body. And I’ve had my period back for 7 months. I can have babies someday!!!!! I’m finally taking care of myself, and I couldn’t care less that I’m not in the “perfect weight range” for my height. When I was, I was the most unhealthy I’ve ever been—physically AND mentally.
So suck on that, ED.
This is my belly.I am slowly, but surely, coming to love it. From this angle, I think I look great! From the side, I have a little lower tummy pooch.. but that doesn’t mean I can’t look great, right? These are my favorite panties, because they make me feel cute, and just a little sexy(;
As a child, I was unhealthy, overweight, had super insecurity about my body. I developed some eating issues. I went through puberty, thinned out a bit and became more evenly proportioned, but I struggle with that insecurity every day.
I love my boobs, they’re just the right size. I love my legs, they allow me to stand and walk and run and climb stairs and dance and jump and play. I love my hair, it’s growing and it’s brown and it’s shiny and it’s soft and I can do so many things with it. I love my eyes, they’re a beautiful deep brown and if you look at the right spot in the sun, the rings of green make them look like an aged tree. I love my butt, it’s big and round and jiggly and sticks out and my boyfriend loves it.And I love my ears, they’re cute and small and can hold pretty earrings and turn red when I’m embarrassed.
Most days, I don’t feel so positive about my tummy.
I body/mirror check, constantly.
I fight with myself over food, constantly.
I can’t decide whether to work out or not.
Nothing looks good on me.
But with the help of my loving boyfriend and tumblr, I’m learning to love my body and treat it right. I’ve become more active and begun eating right. By becoming active I mean I work out when I want to, if I have time. I can now run a mile in just under ten minutes, something I could never do before. I can do fifteen push ups. I haven’t worked out in two months, because I’ve been busy. AND THAT’S OKAY! By eating right, I mean healthily, unhealthily, what I want and when I want it, everything in moderation.
I’m working on the mental aspect too. No food is good or bad. Body checking isn’t necessary, I didn’t change in five minutes. I have some muscle, I can do a ton of sit ups and crunches.
This is my belly. It’s soft, it’s strong, it’s a good pillow. It jiggles, and that’s alright. It’s beautiful to some, and someday soon, I’ll love it too.
This is me. I love my body, but I’ve always been a tinsy bit self-conscious about my lack of curves (boobs, butt, etc.). It’s gotten a lot better since I more or less grew into myself. But I still have my days where I don’t like looking at myself in the mirror..
So I’m not really sure how to word this, but you know how when someone tells you something over and over, and you know that they’re wrong, or joking, but you start to believe them anyway? Well, one of my best friends likes to poke fun at people’s bodies. Including me especially regarding my chest…
If you can think of a way to insult a flat chest, I can almost guarantee that I’ve heard it before. I’ve heard everything from “the itty bitty titty committee” to“What boobs? You don’t have any,” and(my personal favorite[re: sarcasm]) “You don’t even need a bra, just get some band-aides.” If we even get on the subject of breasts, she’ll automatically joke that I can’t be a part of the conversation because I “don’t have any.” She’s always just joking/teasing, but it makes me feel so self –conscious, even though I love my chest. And basically, I’m just trying to get back to the point of loving my body, not just when I’m alone in my room, but also when people are being less than kind about it.
Because my body is great. My butt is great, my hips are great, my legs and arms and toes are awesome. And I love my BOOBS. And in this moment, I feel beautiful, and I hope you do too <3
*MAY BE TRIGGERING*
I remember when I was a kid and didn’t think there was anything wrong with my body. I was fine with it the way it was - honestly, I doubt I ever even thought about it.
But as I got older, that changed. I wanted to be pretty, be skinny, be perfect. I struggled with anorexia for a short time, and though I gained the weight back, I wasn’t happy with what I saw in the mirror. I started to have trouble with self-harm.
I compared myself to ever girl I knew, to every picture of I saw in magazines, catalogs, on the internet. I kept wondering, “Why can’t I be good enough?”
The thing is, I am good enough. Just the way I am.
And even though there is so much more to me than the way I look…
I think I can be beautiful.
I still want to get in better shape, sure. I still have those days when all can think is “Why can’t I be skinny?” Or when all I can see is what I want to change.
But deep down, I know now that the only thing I need to change is how I see myself. (:
Two years ago I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, and recently was diagnosed with ankylosing spondylitis (which is arthritis of the spine). I’d wondered for years why I was so tired and achy all the time. I thought it was because I had very large breasts (50G) or because I had been overweight all my life. Nothing seemed to help, and no matter what I did, the only advice I was given was to lose weight. I cut out pop from my diet, since people keep saying it’s one of the easiest ways to lose weight. Haven’t lost a pound. And I probably will never lose one either. I am too tired and in too much pain to exercise. I can’t even sit up for longer than 10 minutes at a time now. I often feel too ill to eat more than one meal a day. Several of my medications have weight gain as a side effect. It was time for a change.
So I decided that, other than my disabilities, which are genetic and therefore not my fault, there is nothing wrong with me. I don’t care how many times people call me fat, fatty, lardass, whale, or whatever other mean name they can come up with, there is nothing wrong with me. See that big roll on my stomach? That’s my belly button. Once when I was 12 I wore a shirt that was slightly too tight and other people could see my stretched belly button. It hurt when they teased me then, but now I think, so what? Yeah, I’ve got a stretched belly button. I needed an umbilical cord to live! And yeah, I’ve got a double chin and yeah, I’ve got flab on my arms. But if people can’t accept me, flab and all, I don’t need to deal with them.
I have finally learned that fat is an adjective, not an insult. It’s okay that I’m fat. I’ll probably always be fat, and there is nothing wrong with me. I’ll probably be in pain for the rest of my life, but I’ve still got my brains and I’ve still got my sense of humour. I don’t care if other people find me gross or disgusting. I don’t have to please them. I don’t care if I get concern trolled by assholes. I don’t have to please them.
I’m fat, and there’s nothing wrong with me.
Triggers: Eating disorder, self-harm, depression, self-hate
I have hated my body since before I can remember. I have always been muscular or “solid”, as my mother would say, and it always touched a very sensitive nerve.
My muscles served me well in my athletic ventures (however, I was never a very good runner because of my body composition) but when I stopped sports due to injuries, my body image plummeted further. I became depressed and disordered eating (restricting and purging) began. Around a year and a half after quitting sports I developed bulimia. While body image is just one of many reasons why I developed an eating disorder, it really fed the fire. In the depths of my disorder, while my body image was still pretty bad, I had moments of “this is the right thing”, “I look better”, “this is getting me to where I need to be”. I had lost weight and felt the need to keep going. This helped to perpetuate the disorder to the point where I was sent to treatment (twice). I am currently in recovery, but still struggling with weight/shape issues.
I also suffered with depression, anxiety, and self harm during this time. I have had many days where I have laid in bed and thought “I am too fat for people to see me” and avoided any social interaction. The self harm furthered my “body hate” because now I had scars to hide. It became another excuse to hide myself from the world.
I want to get to a point where I can accept my body for what it is and appreciate what it has given me. Although I have done physical damage, I am still strong, athletic, and have the ability to walk, run, swim, and enjoy what life has to offer. I hope to get a point where I can submit to this blog a less blurry/dark picture that shows of the lovely layer of fat that keeps me warm and performs other vital bodily functions. I want to stop being ashamed, because it is shame that has kept me in hiding, and harming myself. Our bodies deserve to be respected and praised because they help us to carry on our lives how we would like, and without them, we would really be nothing. I’m not at the point of praise, but I at least recognize that I need to respect the complicated structure that sustains my life.
“You’re too skinny! Eat a hamburger!” and “You look anorexic!” and etcetcetc.
I’m sure you have all heard it before. I know I hear it daily. After a few years, it kind of got to me. I am now recovering from bulimia, and other forms of self harm. Finally, I am now slowly starting to gain confidence and accept my body as it is. If I don’t, then who will? I know many of you might believe that it is easier said than done, but it is possible. The media is misleading, and the sooner you realize that, the closer you are to self acceptance! I have realized that perfection is a myth, and we are all beautiful just the way we are! I hope you all realize that too! <3 xo
BE BRAVE! JOIN THE BODY PEACE REVOLUTION!