Why Do I Hate My Appearance?

Hello Reader, 

Welcome to another self-therapy post. Today’s topic explores some thoughts around why I hate my myself- appearance in particular. 

Why do I hate myself so much? 

Why do I honestly believe I deserve every criticism? 

Why do I hate my body? 

Why does my mind hate me so much? 

Why can’t I see any of the good in me? 

Let’s talk about body image. 

Look at myself in the mirror naked and feel repulsed by the sight of me.  Disgusted at the rolls of fat, wishing I was as fat I was when I first thought I was fat. Believing that no one could possibly want me when I look like this. Completely flabbergasted when someone says they fancy me. Is it a joke? Some sick form of bullying?  

Why is it that as an adult I cannot see myself as pretty, beautiful or attractive? 

I used to dance as a child. Every Saturday morning from the age of six/seven we did modern/jazz and tap. A year of ballet which I hated. Yearly shows on stage, full costumes. Making new friends, learning dance routines, practicing tap in the kitchen… being yelled at. Screamed at to smile more. Stay in time. Over and over again. Shoved in the back row. Leaving a tap lesson in floods of tears because my teacher screamed at me. Still I kept going. Not good to be a quitter. Better stick it out for another year. Use it as an exercise class.  

I’m eight years old and our costumes for the show have just arrived. Go try them on. I was not a slim child. It’s a neon pink lycra crop top with black lycra trousers. 

‘Who looks the best in the costume?!’ the skinny, popular, solo lesson girls in the group taunt. Of cause they all pick one of them. 

‘Who looks the worst?’ 

No one says anything. They don’t have to. They’re all looking at me. 

Five other eight year old faces dressed in neon pink crop tops all turn to look at the only fat girl in the group. The girl who pulled the trousers up above her belly button to stop her gut from sticking out so much. The girl pulling her crop top down to try to hide her belly. 

The girl who refused to cut her hair short and no one knew why- because she could hide behind it. It distracted the eye from her appearance.  

In a crowd of others I always look the worst. 

To my knowledge/memory I have never heard either of my parents compliment my appearance. They have never once called me beautiful or pretty. It’s only ever ‘that suits you’. Not that I look nice in the dress or that my hair looks good when I went out.  

Praise me academically sure, but looks wise? Never.  

Point out when my acne is exceptionally bad. 

Tell me I’m Lady Muck when I look at myself in the mirror. 

Make fun of me when I’m putting on a fashion show for you. 

Point out how something doesn’t fit me anymore. 

Comment on my weight gains. Tell me to go back to slimming world. 

Maybe you were brought up to think only on the negatives. Remember how degraded that made you feel as a child and as an adult? So why have you done it to me? 

Looks like I’m blaming my parents for it now. 

The things we’re told as children stick with us. Shapes us. A child is moldable. I was shaped to hate myself. 

Where else can we pass this blame? 

Size 6 friends telling me how fat they were. Naturally I compared myself to them. How I was wearing a size 12- twice the width of them.   

In a queue at Chessington where my boyfriend at the time tells me he wouldn’t mind if I lost some weight. Who grabbed and wiggled my ‘love handles’ once he knew I hated it.  

Crying in changing rooms because the jeans don’t fit and I don’t want to get the next size up. 

Being afraid to meet up with people online because they’ll see me- realize that I’m fat- and be disgusted. Walk away, leave.  

Can’t see myself the way others do. Won’t believe it if you compliment me.  

This preconceived identify of myself will shift. Sometimes I’ll have a surge of confidence. Take selfies and post them online for validation- not accept it when I get it.  

There’s an identity disturbance in me. The concept of myself changes almost daily. 

I don’t know where I was going with this.  

Just wish I could give myself a break from me.