Obsession

It must be so nice to devote your precious time and energy to something other than the trivial pest of physical appearance, weight in particular. I am not being sarcastic at all when I say just how jealous I am of those who are confident and don’t give how much they weigh more than a minute of their time. Forgive me for being a repetitive downer because I know I have blogged about body image before, but for something that is constantly at the front of the brain, I feel as if I can validate talking about it again. I also know I have blogged about being positive and loving myself before, too, and sound like a flake for pouring my heart out, but guess what: I am human and this is one of my biggest flaws.

 

I won’t take all of the blame though. If I am being brutally truthful, I attribute this issue to some members of my family. As a child, my weight should have NEVER been discussed. Then, growing up into a young woman, it once again should have NEVER been a topic of conversation. I won’t pin my low self-esteem on others though, for I have made this a bigger problem than it needs to be. I am smart and know I am smart so if someone said I was stupid, it would suck, but I wouldn’t let that thought consume me. I have good hair, so if someone said that my hair was frizzy and nappy, it would hurt but once again wouldn’t consume me and keep me up at night. For some reason though, the way my body looks is always on my mind, and ashamedly I will admit, I think it is because I have never experienced true romantic love.

 

 Yeah yeah,  I am independent and portray this outgoing, leader persona in my professional life, but never having been loved (including never having loved yourself) fucks a person up real good, and it is getting to the point where I think I am stuck like this. Now excuse me for being personal and putting this on a blog, and you can think what you want, but just know that while I am extreme, I know I am not the only person that deals with this. That reasons my singlehood and self-consciousness for the number on my pant tag.

 

I know I sound ridiculously dumb. I know what I am saying and feeling is absolutely ridiculous, but it was if my brain is wired wrong and I can’t stop. And I am sorry but my faulty brain doesn’t understand the notion of loving yourself and that leads to someone else loving you. How am I supposed to know I am worthy if no one has ever told me or shown me otherwise? It doesn’t make sense! So yeah, I guess I am letting my happiness be dependent on someone else, which once again, is fucked up. I don’t know how to fix it though. I do know that I wake up some days instantly pissed off for what I see in the mirror. This has to stop. I also know I put way too much importance in being in a relationship, but when shit like this is all over your Pinterest:

 Image

It makes it difficult. 

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