Reflections. Getting closer and closer to 2013 has made me reflect on the things that I’ve seen and got to experience this year like the Paralympics, where I got to witness people overcoming hardship and bodily disadvantages and soar to heights I can’t begin to imagine.
And this, today, made me think.
I hate my legs. Hate doesn’t even cut it. At the most extreme times when I was suffering from depression I cut myself. But in contrast to a lot of other cutters who choose to cut their arms as a subconscious cry for help, I cut my legs, because I knew I’d never really show them to anyone.
I know I have a tiny waist and a good size rack and I wouldn’t say I’m ugly either. I have a long list of ‘conquests’ to show that I’m desirable at least.
And yet I don’t feel feminine. I don’t feel sexy. I don’t feel comfortable in my body, because of my short, short legs. Even when I was suffering from anorexia they wouldn’t go any slimmer.
And the worst thing is that I can’t do anything about it. If it were my boobs being too big or small I’d get a boob job, or if I didn’t like the shape of my body, I’d do something about it.
But my legs? I can’t do anything about it. Ever.
But today I remembered that what I saw at the Paralympics and I felt stupid to be so in hate with my legs and being so insecure about them. I thought to myself ‘if these guys can overcome bodily deformations and dysfunctions, then I can overcome some stupid legs’.
So I went out and took pictures of myself baring my legs for outfit pictures. I felt like crying, but I did it. I still feel like crying but also exhilarated and proud for doing this.
I will never like my legs, but at least I’m making baby steps, right? I know it will take me some more steps before I can show my legs when other people are around, until then, my legs will be safely wrapped up in (multiple!) layers of tights.
But baby steps are still steps.
Current Song: Backstreet Boys – Who Do You Love