I’ve had a negative self image for as long as I can remember.
And I’ve never been able to win in many things. I couldn’t beat my friends in races or outsmart them on a test. I had nothing of my own and nothing to feel good about. And I’ve always wanted to be the best at something or be better than someone at anything.
It is really hard for me to live with my perfect older sister because I constantly compare myself to her. She is everything I want to be, consisting of—being the valedictorian of her class, having a beautiful, lady-like body, being extremely artistic, having an amazingly compatible boyfriend, being independent, being well-loved by all friends and people around her, not letting anyone down, and being the type of person that everyone looks up to and seeks out for advice and help.
She has the ability to do anything and learn faster than anyone I know. She excels in anything that is put in front of her. She is a young, strong, magnificent woman. She is all of these things, despite my parents’ complicated and depressing separation, and this boring, small-town life.
Being around all of this, and seeing the similar outstanding achievements of my peers around me, led to my own self-hatred and low confidence to this day. And I couldn’t live with myself that way, constantly feeling not good enough for anything or anyone, including myself.
The thing that bothered and still bothers me the most, though, is my own body. I cannot stand having a little bit more meat on my bones than everyone around me. I cannot stand feeling insanely huge and disgusting.
When it all started in Junior High, I really couldn’t take myself anymore. My attempts to lose weight began with little things, like pushing myself a little harder at soccer practice, or doing twenty pointless crunches after eating dinner. Anything to temporarily help me feel a little better about myself was worth it, even if it didn’t make any changes or lower my weight.
Of course, nothing worked. Nothing ever worked.
As I got older, and in the 10th grade, the image I had of myself just became worse and worse. I actually started to skip meals, and cut out as much fat and unnecessary sugars as possible. I also became a vegetarian. I pursued this habit because of the unfair and inhumane treatment of animals, and also for myself, because it was just one less thing I could eat without making an excuse. And it was an easy step towards eating healthy that would have hopefully led to weight loss and happiness. Happiness, because I only feel happy when I feel a tiny bit lighter or when I’ve skipped a meal.
