Your Thighs Do Not Define You
It is now official that the novelty of this polar blast has now gone kaput. Please can it stop precipitating. I don’t really enjoy having wet feeties at work. Is that too much to ask?
I hope not.
I forgot to mention how much I love all of your comments on my Comparison Trap post. Seriously, you guys rock. I was afraid to hit publish on that post because I was worried that I was going to get some nasty comments but thankfully the meanies haven’t found me yet.
Today, I wanted to talk about another kind of comparison trap. That is, comparing your body to others. If you’re new to my blog and myself, then you may not know that I am well into recovery for an eating disorder (hence the recent post) so don’t be shocked if I start talking about food, weight and body image.
Lately, I have been having a hard time accepting my ever changing body. When I finally became comfortable with it, it continued to change even though that wasn’t my intention. Then the worst thing ever happened – my thighs started to touch.
Hooooooooly craaaaaaaaaap, Katy, that’s just the worst!
I know, right?
Seriously, why should this even be a problem? How self-centred of me. Surely there are more important things to worry about in my life. Well, the reason I started to see this as a problem is because there are so many people in the blog world that eat so much more than me but still have a gap between their legs. As I type this I just want to slap my palm into my face because this just seems so silly but I’m trying to be honest here. I see people on the blog world eating much healthier than me, exercising more than me and sleeping so much more than me. This is what I meant by my comparison trap post. DO NOT FALL INTO THE TRAP!
Our bodies are all made differently. No matter how much we want them to look a certain way, they are going to look the way they were born to look, crave the foods they thrive on and feel fatigue when they need rest. I used to push my body to look a certain way and that only made me look like balding bobble head. I craved for that gap between my legs because to me, that was control. That was beauty. That was success. Sick, no? But what I do remember from this time is longing to look like the beautiful curvy women that I would see everywhere. They looked so healthy, happy and beautiful. I would wish that I could take a pill to make me look like them. That would make me gain the weight in a snap without having to go through the uncomfortable weight gain process.
Now that I’ve made it through the weight gain and I have reached the weight that my old dietician set for me, I know that I look a lot like those girls that I thought were so beautiful. And I really do feel pretty some days. But I can’t seem to get over the unusual sensation of my thighs touching. My thighs always used to touch pre-ED so why is this such a problem? Why do I think that my thighs define who I am? They DON’T!
So what does define me? My bubbly personality? My love for everything Antarctica, the colour purple and cheesy British humour? My kindness? My love to bake? My determination? My adoration of my Family? Doesn’t all of this (and more) count in the definition of who I am?
When you are having these bouts of extreme body consciousness, think about what is really bothering you. By that I mean, what is happening in your life that you are trying to distract yourself from. For me, I know that when times in my life get tough or if there are things going on around me that I can’t seem to control or accept, I turn to my body for that control or peace of mind. Make a list of the things that are stressing you out. Then compare this to what you are turning your thoughts on to. In the grand scheme of things, do the size of your thighs really matter? Is the world going to end if you don’t get your workout in? Does the number on the scale matter to your lecturers, your teachers or even your friends? Have you ever asked your friends if they would stop being your friend if you gained some weight? Probably not because you’re not a crazy. And if you have, how did that go? Did they give you the “WTF” face?
I guess what I’m trying to do here is collect my thoughts together. I know right from wrong. I know that I’m just hearing stories in my head. These thoughts are just scribbles and brain farts in my head – they are not fact. Thoughts are not facts.
If this has made any sense and you’ve managed to get through it all, I thank you for reading. This post has been one big thought vomit. Yum.
Have you ever been extremely conscious of your body changing? How did you deal with it?
Do you compare yourself to others?
Anything you want to add?