So I have body issues.
I may have remarked on that before. I don't remember. It's one of those things that I just kind of consider part of who I am, that voice in my head that reminds me I'm ugly. Sometimes I got that bitch under control, and other times, I do not.
This is one of those times I do not.
I've lost a fair amount of weight in the last few months. 24 pounds, in fact. While this is not an incredible amount of weight, it is not an oh-my-god-what-did-you-DO weight, it is still a noticeable amount of weight...to some people, at least. Others don't notice at all, which is fine. Others notice there is something different about me, but just can't put their finger on it, and end up asking me if I've changed my hair. Which, you know, is also fine. My hair can use some positive feedback.
The point though is, I can notice I've lost some weight, and I thought it was enough to feel slightly better about myself. Not good, mind you, but better. I really thought I had gone from the Butt Ugly Coming Through! category to the Normal Woman Walking category.
Let me tell you, feeling like a Normal Woman Walking is so much nicer than feeling like Butt Ugly. Butt Ugly thoughts are a downer.
Here's the thing about my butt: I can't really see it that well in the mirror. The fact is, nobody can really see their butt that well in a mirror; the best anyone can do is a kind of twisted side-angle peeking of ass. You can't get a straight on view, because your eyes aren't on the back of your head.
So I asked Husband to take a picture of my butt. I had plenty of "before" butt pictures, you see; lots of pics of my raw, red, bruised, belted, and welted butt from before I started losing weight. I thought to myself, here is a chance to see how much better my butt must look!
Husband took a picture of my backside. It wasn't just my ass: the picture he took ended up including my waist, hips, thighs and legs.
I grabbed my camera, plugged it into my computer, waited for the picture to upload, opened it up, and
wanted to cry.
My computer is a mac, so I have iPhoto. Within a second of seeing that picture, I pressed "edit," and started to "retouch" out all the dimples, lines, and rolls. With each edit I made, I hated my body a little more.
After losing 24 pounds, I've decided my butt doesn't look any better than it did before. In fact, I think maybe it looks worse.
I've come to the conclusion that my butt is one of the most ugliest butts I have ever seen, and no amount of weight I lose or exercise I do is going to change that. Nothing I do can help that. It is an ugly butt.
It is not just my butt, though. It is also my back, legs, and thighs.
I have an ugly, misshapen, wrinkly, dimply, pimply, blotted, blemished, smooshy, poochy, saggy body.
I am feeling bad about it.
Not only that, I am feeling bad about feeling bad about it. It's one of those things. A couple women at the munch I attended the other day told me I'm hot. I'm sure they said it to compliment me, and not to make me feel uncomfortable. But I did feel uncomfortable, one, because I don't believe it, and two, because I feel guilty for arguing with them about it when they are clearly not trying to start an argument.
They mean what they say.
So do I.
I don't know why I'm writing this, frankly. I am not going to give up getting to a healthy weight, I'm not going to give up exercising for my own good, and I'm not going to wallow (too much) in self-pity. I am going to accept the fact that my butt is ugly, no amount of weight loss will make it a pretty butt, and I will focus on my good attributes.
Like my eyes. I have pretty eyes. And I have nice funky toes, too. Funky is not pretty, but it adds character.
You there, you with the pretty butt: yes, you. Enjoy that nice ass. Be proud of it, and use it well. Some of us are living vicariously through you.
Well, through your butt, anyway.