Another Girl Bitching About Her Weight

It's been a little over a year since my last post. In many ways I've changed. But unfortunately, in others--some of which I am not very proud of and don't quite understand--I haven't changed at all.

Before I started writing this post, I knew what I wanted to write about: my body image. A subject that girls never seem to exhaust. As much as I like to think of myself as a maverick, outside of the confines of feminine stereotypes, it appears that I'm as much of an ordinary, unremarkable 22-year-old female as all the other 22-year-old females in the world. I am a victim of my body image. The issue stands before me like an unsurpassable road block. I just can't seem to find my way around it. When I wake up, it's there. As I go throughout my day, it's there. When I go to bed, it's there. When I look at myself in the mirror, I see my body as if it were in a fun house mirror. But there is a creeping suspicion in the back of my mind that my body actually looks like that.

What's remarkable is that when I opened my blog page for the first time in months, my very last blog post from June 2009 caught my eye. The title of it: "Life on a Diet". And here I am, over a year later, armed with a degree from Stanford University, supposedly educated in the ways of the world, supposedly equipped with the tools necessary to look past the physical. But I am more consumed by my body image now than I have ever been, even a year ago when I started that diet. That diet, of course, died out quickly, along with the hope that I will actually lose the 30 pounds that I want to. Because the truth is, I may hate my body, but if there is one thing I hate worse than my body, it's the gym, and diets, and anything I would have to do to render a change. If I really cared that much about my body, wouldn't I do the necessary to change it? That's what a certain ex boyfriend used to tell me. But somehow when he said it, it just hurt me more than helped me. As annoying as it is for a girl to fish for compliments from her boyfriend, it's a fact of life. And the response a girl does not want to hear is: "If you don't like it, go to the gym and do something about it." I'll be damned if that makes me feel better. I'll tell you what I want to hear: "Oh, honey, you're perfect the way you are. Just shut up about it. You're perfect." In other words, I want nothing more than to be lied to. It's much more comfortable than the sensation I get everyday when my mind eats at me for not being skinny enough, and thinking no man will ever love me because I'm not sexy. Four years at Stanford should have taught me that there are men out there who look past the physical. However--and this is not necessarily because of Stanford, but perhaps in spite of it--I have come to believe the opposite. I don't know where I am receiving my information. I know it's utter bullshit.

I should be intelligent enough to filter out what the media tells me. I should know that the girls on The Hills are not regular girls, that it is unrealistic of me to strive to look like the models in Elle, that the girl I saw in Wal Mart may be skinnier than me, but that that doesn't make her better than me. But over time my mind, which seems to have a personality of its own, has convinced me that if I don't achieve the most fundamental feminine attribute--a slim figure--nothing else about me matters. I may have a great sense of humor, I may be intelligent, I may have the most charming personality on earth (which I don't), but none of those matter until I can attract the opposite sex at the most fundamental level.

And why is it such a priority for me to attract the opposite sex? Why is my biological clock (or whatever that bullshit is) pressuring me to appeal to men when my mind tells me to focus on my personal goals? As I get older, or maybe just because I'm entering a transition period in my life, my mind becomes more and more muddled. I feel like there are a lot of undefined forces fighting to dominate my mind. Biology vs. logic, head vs. heart, practicality vs. my dreams. To be honest, I do not feel at the top of my game. I certainly have felt at the top of my game before. But I have come to believe that something happened to me within the last couple of years that changed me. I have devolved from the education-loving, idealistic shirker of societal norms into a confused, insecure teenager who is completely obsessed with her looks.

It's funny. I never thought I would become like this. The other day my mom caught me checking out my side profile in the mirror (the cursed muffin top!) and told me that I am vain. Me? Vain? I never thought anyone would ever think that about me. I have never cared what people thought about me so much as I do now. In reality, I'm not vain. I am just so consumed with self-loathing that I obsess over it. I look at myself in the mirror, pinpoint each physical attribute that I want to change, and allow my mind to ruminate over self-criticisms. That, in my mind, is not vanity. That is masochism.

In the end, I just want to be beautiful. More importantly, I want to feel beautiful. But instead, I find myself buying clothes that will hide the parts of my body I consider to be fat, I put on make up everyday without fail because I fear being seen as I really am, I dress up as fashionably as I can in order to make up for what I consider to be the drab, dumpy person underneath. So many people tell me I exude confidence. To me, that is just laughable.

It's unfortunate that such a bright mind like my own is spending 85% of the day obsessing over such bullshit as weight and appearance. I am hoping that this is all nothing more than a product of my age. I hope that I will get past all of this. Because it has been nearly a year and a half since I started obsessing over my weight, and rather than diminish, my obsession has only increased.

I applaud anyone who has made it to the end of this post. If anyone has any opinions on the matter, please feel free to share with me. It always helps to have some solidarity. I know many girls go through this same thing, but that does not take away from the sense of loneliness that we all have while struggling through it.