Body issues galore

[adrienmundi]

(In which I get kinda personal, kinda specific but not explicit, and expose a mass of neuroses to the world)

I am neurotic as hell about my body; that's probably a surprise to no one. It could be as simple as finally feeling invested enough in it that things that used to be only theoretical are now somewhat actual. Or maybe it's that I'm more vain and/or superficial than I ever thought I was, at least in regards to myself (yeah, I see that the latter sentence could easily fit into the former, if cast slightly differently; so what?) It could be that there really is no necessary connection between who I am, and how I look/choose to look (as a very wise fairy has suggested), but I worry, a lot, that if X looks like X, and is usually connected to Y, then anything X is necessarily Y (this makes sense in my head, which should tell me something).

External markers bother me; numbers, so I have been told, do not lie. And yet, if they don't, how to explain my perception of some fifteen months of "progress" in the face of this "truth"? (trans: according to the inchworm, I'm in the negatives when it comes to cup size; I'm unsure even how such a thing is possible) I have to admit that I'm pretty well satisfied with my legs, and my butt I guess. There, at least, the inchworm and perception are more in line.

I've got to stop this for now; hopefully, I can pick it up again later.

Comments

[scimiotix.livejournal.com]

I suspect that most everyone is neurotic about their looks to some degree and just hiding it. Until just recently, I couldn't leave the house without full face make-up on. From the age of twelve until about a year ago, I would never leave the house without a minimum of four different types of make-up applied to my face. I even wore make-up while camping much to the derision of my camp-mates, yet still I persisted. If I ever had to leave the house without make-up (say, I woke up late), I would be so self-conscious that I would cower if I was spotted by someone I knew and I would avoid people. I couldn't hold a relaxed conversation because I was so self-conscious. A few days ago, I was walking home and I realized that I hadn't worn make-up all day and, more importantly, I hadn't thought about it all day. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I thought about it. This may sound goofy and incredibly vain, but it wasn't really that. I was self-conscious because I couldn't see myself as presentable to other people without it. I believed that I was downright ugly without the mask. I couldn't see myself the way that others saw me. I still can't. Yet, I never, ever talked to anyone about it until recently, util I wasn't so self-conscious of my looks anymore. It would have made me feel to vulnerable to discuss it.

You lost me with the X and Y stuff.

I'm glad that you're pleased with certain aspects of your body. For me it took [a number of years that will not be disclosed*].

*appearance isn't the only thing I'm self-conscious about!

[adrienmundi]

Thanks for taking the time for a lengthy and applicable comment. I think I've spent a large part of my life not at all connected to my appearance, so I'm working through things now that most people went through long past (assuming that most are past this; if they aren't, maybe they just whine less).

[scimiotix.livejournal.com]

I envy the fact that you were unable to think about your appearance at all for so long. It is a concept that is foreign to me (of course, I was raised by a very sexist mother, from a very sexist culture, so feminine beauty was emphasized more than it should have been).