The trouble with me is… Part 2

Hey you, you beautiful thing!

As promised, here’s part 2 of my… erm ‘Me’ series, ‘The trouble with me is’.

Last time I spoke more about the mental side of how I beat myself up daily. Most days without even realising.  On this post, I’ll discuss the body side, or physical… either works well.

As I mentioned in my previous post, we’re under a lot of pressure and influence daily.  It’s massively present in the media in which we read, or ‘gloss over’, on TV and of course on Instagram.  Not a moment goes by without seeing a hashtag #fitstagram #dietlife or #fitfam slapped on a post with perfectly sculpted/toned muscles, tans that make David Dickinson jealous… you know what I mean. And I would be a big fat liar if I said ‘I wasn’t jealous’ – I’m not jealous of their body shape (well, maybe a tiny bit) but more so their commitment to direction, something I lack massively and my dietary education had been messed about with, by foolish yo-yo dieting.

Dieting is where my problems mostly stemmed.  In a post I wrote for Kiki Blah-Blah (when I was in a slightly better place mind wise) I delved into the beginnings of how I came to know ‘I was fat’.

A n d  t h e n  c a m e  t h e  b o d y  p o s i t i v e  m o v e m e n t. . .

I recall watching a documentary on Channel 4 (thanks for coming to Brum guys, we’re amazing here *wink*) on Yours clothing.  It showed the ins and outs of scouting for plus-sized models in an area awash with ‘normal or average sized’ models, and it was then that I witnessed this fabulous woman emerge on my screen.  Tattooed to the goddesses, hair beautifully auburn and enough sass and class to make me pee in my pants… well, knickers.

T e s s  H o l l i d a y  b e c a m e  a n  i c o n  i n  m y  l i f e. . .

Alongside Marilyn Monroe, Judy Garland and Jessicka Addams, I now had another icon on my list and she was a plus-sized beauty!  This feisty woman spoke about the fashion industry, the changes that needed to happen, and then worked a photo shoot like no other.  It was at this point I began to look into the ‘Body Positive’ movement and what it entailed.

Popular misconception? ‘It’s only for bigger people’ It’s not at all! And whilst I am still learning daily in the subject of Body Positivity, there are some key things I know:

B o d y  P o s i t i v i t y  e m b r a c e s  a l l  s h a p e s , s i z e s , s e x e s , c o l o u r s , r a c e s , s e x u a l l i t i e s  a n d  r e l i g i o n s . . .

It doesn’t discriminate.  Period.  I’ve understood that it encompasses an appreciation for all bodies regardless of what they look like.  Hairy? I respect you, Varicose veins? I respect you, Slim and toned? I respect you, Melanin on fleek? I respect you, curvy asf with tiger stripes? I RESPECT YOU.  The list goes on and on… but why couldn’t I love myself? RuPaul always preaches ‘If you can’t love yourself, how’n the hell you gon’ love somebody else?’ I always had a plethora of love to shower my peers with.  However I would beat ME up behind doors about it.

This post would soon end up consuming the entirety of the internet (think the IT crowd) if I listed my issues, but I’ll write some of the main ones.

I ‘hate’:

My hair, my arms, my nose, my crooked face, my teeth, my smile, my breasts, my stomach/belly, my thighs, my calves, my ankles, my feet, my toes… So… all of me yeah? Yeah.  

But why? Why have I programmed myself this way to self-loathe so badly? I guess my only answer is, life.

I was that fat one.  My thighs got likened to horse legs because of the curve they had on the top… my thighs always had met together since I was a child, then went their separate ways at the calves.  It didn’t look ‘normal’

But what the f*ck is normal anyway?! 

This self-hatred I carried for myself tore me apart.  Shopping trips became nightmarish, my husband already knowing what would happen…

Zara finds a nice item of clothing, tries it on, it either doesn’t look good OR doesn’t fit over her awkward body, time to leave the shop in a foul mood, go home and cry.

And this would happen over and over again.

‘Oh it’s just a mum-tum it’ll go away!’

It didn’t.  And that ‘mum-tum’? had existed since I was around 10 years old.  It wasn’t a bearer of babies under tummy, it existed because it was a part of me.  In all the sizes I have been that I have been aware of, that mummy-tummy stayed.  from 14 – 22 at my biggest, it lay there like a beached whale on my stomach, preventing me from wanting to wear anything nice,

B e c a u s e  I  b e l i e v e d  I  d i d n ‘ t  d e s e r v e  t o  w e a r  n i c e  t h i n g s .

Mean, isn’t it? It’s honestly baffling how my mind has done this, yet body positivity shone this light in the darkened cave I was trapped in, ways to see that these ‘media created imperfections’ were indeed, my life and I needed to love them before I could even attempt to move on.

I still learn daily.  2017 was an AMAZING journey of growth for me until an ankle injury halted my exercise regime and I gained a lot of weight (again) so now? 2018 is not a new journey, but picking up from where I left off.  Finding the little avenues to help me grab those crystals ala crystal maze and unlock those doors to inner happiness.  I’ve tried to adopt a more positive approach to life and even created my own hashtag ‘#workwhatyouown’ and began rolling with it… LITERALLY!

Have I had trolls? Yep.  Threats of nasty things? Yep.  Do I care? Nope.  My life is for being happy, and it’s as simple as that.  I hope this time next year I can read back on this post and think who was that Zara being so mean to herself? I dare catch her saying this sheet ever again!

I better not catch you doing the same either!

BodyPosiPOWERRR!

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