I Do Not Love Myself

So, this may sound like what many others around go through..

I often stand in front of the mirror (usually after having a shower) and start to critically examine my body (almost to a point where some might think I am suffering from an acute case of paranoia – note the doubleĀ superlatives, it’s to emphasize my point – or at least a severe case of obsession). There are many things I do not like about myself. Here’s a list, to name a few..


1. My Bulging, Hanging Belly

I hate it. I hate the way it sags over my waistline, looking swollen and huge every single day. The stretch marks all over it does not help its case. I look at it and I squeeze it and I will it to go. I use all my strength, shut my eyes tight & fervently utter a pray, or five hundred, and I wish with all my might for it to just disappear. Vanish,without a trace. To pull a disappearing act. But then I open my eyes and the image staring back at me in the mirror is devastating. The huge whale-like ball of fat is still there, adamant to move. It is flabby and soft & scarred.

2. My Cellulite-Filled Thighs
I stand in front of the mirror, twisting left and right, just to get a clear, complete look at my thighs from all around. They are sagging too, with cellulite at almost every inch of skin. I dislike the fat thighs. I loathe the abrasions I suffer on a hot day, where I perspire in between my legs, in a way that is not at all sexy or desirable. They rub against each other mercilessly, generating heat from all that friction I could incinerate half the world to ashes in a matter of seconds. Then I come home and see the discolouration of my inner things and I want to puke my guts out. I wish my thighs were slender and toned. I wish they were unblemished, with baby smooth skin that I wouldn’t mind touching every second of every day.

3. My Limp, Thin Hair
I wish to have those voluminous hair everyone on every social networking platform seem to have. The kind of hair that has a life of its own, that cannot be tamed. It is wild, it bounces back and resists every one of your attempt to smooth it down, to de-tangle that wild mane of forest. Mine is resisting of course – resisting to be styled into an appropriate look that can fool people into thinking I have double the volume of hair I actually do.

4. My Down-Turned Lips
I wish my lips were carved into my face, like a perfect bow. Plump below and sufficiently thin upstairs, I wish I could smile a 1000-watt smile that would dazzle everyone who looked at me. I hate my last-minute, pasted-on smile that looks like a fish’s pucker.

5. I Loathe My Flabby Arms
My stretch marks are every where. They encroach, seemingly harmless on every square inch of my body. But don’t be fooled. These scars are ugly. They torment the eyes and even worse, the mind. They make me sick. I look at the scars and I think, “Who would ever want to love me? To touch me? Or caress me lovingly? Who?”

Body image is a serious issue that many grapple with. I do not have these issues but am merely stating the fact that I could have them, just like so many others. I wish people would stop measuring themselves up to actresses and people they see online. These figures have been modified and altered. They have been surgically changed and graphically enhanced. Nothing is real. Not everything is what it seems. We need to be mindful of our bodies, of the love and attention it requires not because of it’s imperfections but despite it. Our bodies are what we make them to be, and we should strive to make them beautiful, no matter the indentations on your skin. The blemishes speak of wars and battles gone through and won. Yes won, because you are here as I am here and we are living a miracle. A miracle that is us.

So, hold your heads high and learn to live, laugh & love.