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The Biggest Monster is in My Head

September 14, 2010

I’ve never had a good self body image. I’ve thought I was fat from the moment I developed breasts. Which, by the way, I didn’t develop until I was in college. I grew 4 inches in height that first year, got breasts, and started to menstruate monthly.  I joke about how my mom didn’t feed me, which explains the lack of body fat. She was worried I was going to be obese from the moment I weighed 100 lbs. So in my head, anything over 100 is fat. Very fat.

I am a victim of my mother’s induced anorexia. Would the be anorexia by proxy?

So that pretty much explains the body dismorphia.

It should be no surprise to any of you, then, that I refer to my new body as the Frankenstein Monster. The giant scar across my chest plus the giant scar across my belly – from where my OB/GYN/BITCH removed my uterus, using a hedge clippers. And just think, on October 26th the plastic surgeon will be adding more scars to my back! Wheeeee!

But I’m not the Boris Karloff Frankenstein Monster.

I’m more the Phil Hartman Frankenstein. Not so much a monster.

This entry has been brought to you by a woman who is not strong at all.

And has had enough of this shit stew she’s been served.

7 Comments leave one →
  1. Lori in Houston permalink
    September 14, 2010 2:38 pm

    It took me a long time to see my scars as medals of honor. I feel the same way, now, about my wrinkles. At 15 when I was sliced east to west and then, two years later, from north to south, my dreams of ever wearing a bikini died a screaming death. But now, I’m kind of proud of them. And, if you’re really bothered, they can do wonders with plastic surgery these days!

  2. September 14, 2010 4:26 pm

    The only thing that saves me from that point of view — as each asset fades to untimely obscurity — is that my mother was not always right. It took me forty years to tell her so.

  3. Donna permalink
    September 14, 2010 6:48 pm

    I’ve had seven different surgeries (eight, if you count the impacted wisdom teeth), and I’ve got scar zippers in lots of places, but they really do fade over time. Body image issues? I have those, too. But screw it! Everything works, more or less, as it’s supposed to, and most days I’m OK with that. If I have regrets, it’s that I didn’t realize what I had when I had it, and wasted time and energy fretting about what I thought I was missing. And then I think, 15 years from now, I’ll look back on today and say, “Damn! I looked just fine. Not as good as some and way better than others.” As Popeye said, “I yam who I yam” and although it’s taken me a really long time to recognize it, who I am is way more important that what I look like. And Kathy, I heart you for remembering Phil.

  4. September 15, 2010 10:03 am

    Aww Phil Hartman. That whole thing was just such a tragedy. Grr. ANYHOW. I never ever talk about my body in front of my girls because I don’t want them to think badly about theirs. In fact, I think that’s why my really chubby body doesn’t bother me so much — my (step)mom never once complained about her body in front of me. Of course, she felt fat and frumpy, but I never heard her say it. It was a lovely gift she gave me, without her even realizing it.

  5. September 15, 2010 12:13 pm

    My mother did the same thing to me. So I became what she expected. I fight it all, but … I know I should be old enough to not have those evils still haunt me, but they do. So when the mastectomy happened, it didn’t really bother me. I already had a poor body image. Then the plastic surgeon added more. I felt I deserved it. I already didn’t want ANYBODY to see my body. Both knees with zippers – so what.

    I hate my body. I want to change it, but it seems impossible. I was on that trail when the cancer struck, and I am back where I started with a lot of scars to boot. Nothing else to say really.

  6. September 15, 2010 3:03 pm

    I would not be too surprised if at some point you post photos of all those scars! You’re crazy like that, and you’ve shocked me with your courage and humour several times already. I love that about you.

  7. September 17, 2010 8:34 am

    This post has made me think about my own bad self image, or whatever. I have never liked my body and always have thought I was fat, even when I wasn’t. And in thinking back, it was never because of my parents saying anything, ever, about my weight or size. I think it was just due to my fate in life of just being a “big girl”. I am big boned and have a large frame and sadly, small boobage that doesn’t help to balance things out. In high school, when I was ‘skinny’, I wore a size 15. Not an ounce of fat….just all me….size 15 and 5’8″. Of course, all the ‘popular’ girls were a size 2 or 6 at the most, so I felt much like an Amazon. Now I AM fat, in all the wrong places; wearing size 16 pants and 20 tops and for 2 years have not been able to be physically active enough to do anything about it. SO….that self image still sucks. Especially now that I can’t get all gussied up in my pretty work clothes and jewelry to help boost my self esteem. Geez………..I better shut up. Sounds like a blog entry of my own, rather than a comment to you. LOL But, as you so often do….you just got me thinking about things and so I spew!

    But YOU, my friend, are totally beautiful and awesome and I’m so sorry that your Mother gave you the wrong mindset about your gorgeous self. Sending gentle *hugs* thru Cyberspace, even tho you aren’t a huggy kinda girl……just cuz I wanna!

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