The other day I was standing staring at myself after I had showered, listing the things that I don’t like seeing in the mirror. Stretch marks, my hips, bad posture, traces of cellulite- the usual. I wasn’t talking to myself, my boyfriend was in the room, but it was really aimed at my reflection, not a prompt for discussion.
I’m not aiming for some sort of airbrushed, kardashian-esque body that makes others feel utterly inadequate as they scroll through Instagram while munching on super noodles (not just me right?). I just constantly build up lists of stuff that I would like to correct. Some, such as my hip bones, that’ll never be any different no matter how many times I throw them some serious shade in front of the mirror. You can’t exercise off bone.
I can’t remember what bit pushed my boyfriend to the point of temper-flaring, but when I said I felt like stretch marks were trolling me he half shouted that actually, I just troll myself and asked why I do it.
Good question. It REALLY annoys him.
I do troll myself. I lay into myself so much about my skin, my hair, my bad make-up skills, any part of my body that wobbles and any time I don’t achieve exactly what I want in the ridiculous timeframes I set myself.
This isn’t because of I’ve got a distorted idea of how I should look or how my life should be from spending too much time on social media. It’s not because I feel a need to keep up with my friends. It way outdates both social media and the friends I have now. It’s been this way for as long as my memory stretches back. It’s older than my stretch marks, that just FYI I swear appeared when I was 12 and whippet thin.
I’m one of those people that’ll try something if I’m told it’s good for me. Drink kale? Yep. Take garlic capsules? Yep. Cut way down on meat to basically veggie level? Yep.
I do things like that. I get caught up. If I could buy a body satisfaction pull and life relaxation pill I would be first in line at Holland and Barrat with my debit card ready to roll. I don’t want to be a ‘me troll’ and spend so much energy trying to change things, although l seem to be pretty consistent at it. It’s pretty much second nature now, even though I’m aware of it and know I should stop and cut myself some slack.
It’s not as easy as being told you look good, you’re doing well or you’re fine just the way you are though. As nice as it is to here those things, the only thing that’s made me realise how bad I am to myself is pushing someone else to sheer exasperation over it.
I’d like to stop one day, but it’s really not an easy thing to give up.