This is a collective image from different stories of completely different girls. I combined it for greater brightness, and that this collective image was able to touch different souls. And although it is written in the first person, it is not my story, although it has my "pieces".
I hate my body. Since childhood, it brings me only disappointment and trouble.
When I was little, everyone was taller and I was teased for being short. I remember asking my mother how you can grow up fast, and my mother joked that you should hang on the bar upside down. And I hung every day, taking it seriously. Hung, hung and grew. And now I'm the tallest in my class, and they call me tall and tall. I again hated its naughty body, which grew more, than need and utterly not on time.
I always thought that my body — my enemy. It always presented surprises and most often unpleasant. Pimples and colds on the lips on the eve of a date. Or the freckles I bleached every spring. Breast, which grew before all. A butt that was either too flat or too thick. Hands-hooks, legs-strings. My legs were called chicken legs, matches, a Bicycle.
And there is no way to get out of this body, not to get rid of it, and it does not want to negotiate.
I remember how furiously squeezed pimples, and the skin remained scars. How savagely I tore the hair from my legs, enduring the savage pain almost with pleasure — I took revenge on my rainy body for all my suffering, but the hair grew back again.
The body does not want to be friends with me, it eats more than it needs and at the most inopportune moment, and then all this lays out on the sides, and completely unevenly.
Wasn't it possible to be born normal and beautiful? My sister is like my mother, and beautiful. And the eyes are large and neat nose, and body hair does not grow. I'm daddy's daughter. Huge nose, narrow eyes, and increased hairiness. Where is justice in this world?
My mother and sister always laughed at me and my father, calling us eagles for our profiles. And they used to tease us with furs. And many people sympathized with me. Grandmother one day, collecting my liquid three hairs on his head (why not the opposite — would be better if the bunch of hair on the head and nothing on the body!), sympathized, they say, unlucky you, like your father, would be like a sister beauty, it would be easier to get married, and now something is already what. Will have to live and suffer. Here I live. And I am suffering.
Dad always looked at me guiltily, like, sorry, it happened, did not want to. My mother at some early age realized that in dresses for girls I look like a monkey, and stopped even trying, silently sympathized. She taught me to wear makeup to hide my facial imperfections, but I quickly realized that my entire face was one blemish.
No, my body is definitely my enemy. I had to fight him all the time.
Pimples, extra hair, then extra weight, too thin legs, and too thick butt. Besides, this body always got sick when it was out of place. Then the exams, then during the holidays, even on your wedding day, I was walking with the temperature.
The longer this body and I live together, the more I hate it. During my pregnancy, I was a huge barge that didn't fit through any doorway. And of course, after childbirth, the state of my body is to hug and cry. And more precisely cry and to hate. Hugging him is too much honor. Hate those stupid stretch marks that came out right away and turned me into a tabby tiger, even though I smeared them with everything. Those drooping sides and belly that don't want to be the same. This sagging huge Breasts that every night fills the whole bed with milk, and have to sleep in a puddle. His hands were huge from pulling the child, spin the wheel, under the eyes, the hair falling out in batches. Beauty, too!
Husband got himself a young and beautiful and gone. My son is nervous, and I have to work day and night to survive. Working where the pay is good, even though it's not really my thing. Men, there is no and not envisioned. Who needs I such an appalling and already "former in the use"? Nobody.
I hated my body and starved it, but it still didn't lose weight. The extra pounds stuck tightly, and at least do something-it is useless. I went to the most brutal massages for weight loss and got the result, but immediately removed the stress of the most disgusting muck, what could get. The burgers, the chocolate cake, fried potatoes. It was impossible to stop. And then I went back to the massage, where the whole body is covered with bruises. No less I mocked the body in the gym with weights and barbells, but it stood its ground. I did not give anything to the contact did not go. And I stopped trying, now I just don't look in the mirror and wear only black and baggy.
When you need to go to the beach, I feel a lot of stress. I'm looking for a swimsuit to pull it all down and hide it. But I haven't found anything like it yet. I probably won't. Therefore, I do not like to rest on the sea.
When everyone is photographed, I want to fall into the ground, so as not to spoil the overall picture of his fat and terrible body. I always look the worst in pictures, no matter how hard I try.
I hate my body. It's mocking me. Another body would have long ago agreed to cooperate and would have lost weight, tightened up, and this-in any.
And wrinkles. Oh, I'm only thirty, and I have wrinkles on my forehead. My mother told me not to wrinkle my brow. But no, and now I'm thirty, and I'm thinking about getting some shots or something. Let in this foolish body then needles poke, times it on-good not wants. Stupid and ugly body!
I hate my body, and it hates me back. And the longer I live, the colder our relationship. I think other bodies are more agreeable and pleasant. Mine becomes a source of frustration and pain.
But I can't change anything, I can't go to the Bazaar and swap bodies with someone. I can go under the surgeon's scalpel, but I have a suspicion that this hatred will not go away, and I will always find something to hate my body for. It's like I'm trapped in a space I don't like. But he couldn't get out.
Sometimes I feel like all my other problems — with men, with finding my business, with the baby-start at the point where I've decided to hate my body. But I guess I'm just imagining it. And here is the body!