I will tell you that I know you've tried what feels like everything to create a tolerable existence, but it hasn't worked thus far. I also know that you have hoarded your past expired medications in your toy hamper waiting for this day when you finally get "the nerve" to go through with ending it all. Please don't let today be your last, I want you to experience what it's like to smile for real again and you'll be taking that opportunity away.
After years of being told that we don't know how to eat, we've actually started to believe it. This makes us completely vulnerable and therefore prime targets for any new diet plan or product that come our way. When did we lose faith in ourselves and start putting all our trust in complete strangers, who care more about healthy incomes than healthy consumers?
Rihanna recently had her Instagram account deleted after posting one of the topless photos from her very racy, very stylish spread in Lui magazine earlier this month. Even though Instagram maintained it was an accident (who in their right mind would piss RiRi off on purpose?) and reinstated the account, it had still been wiped squeaky clean.
Those words secretly worked magic on me. As a disabled person, I had an extra swing in my waist that never bothered me. The joy in my feet was something far more powerful than anyone could understand. The flash in my teeth, were vicious to those that fed me negativity, and the same flash was a brilliant smile that won the hearts of those that I cared about.
Have you ever wondered what it would be like for a film crew to follow you day in and day out, documenting your daily rituals all in an effort to create a successful film? I have a chronic condition called Dermatillomania, which has left me scarred and disfigured on the outside, alienated and "different" on the inside.
There is definitely a disconnect between love-your-body theory and reality. Women nod their heads sagely having heard all this information before, then look at themselves in the mirror and go back into the same negative self-talk. And sadly from my standpoint, women's body image has only gotten worse over the last 10 years.
We are not just expected to put in the same amount of work in the office, and still more at home, we also have to find the time to go to the gym, pull on skin-tight shape wear, prepare gluten-free, carb-free, Paleo, blah, blah, meals, get Botox, gel manicures, and buy expensive serums, lotions, and potions proven to even out our complexion, hide fine lines, and reduce sagging.
When it comes to their appearance, women can never, ever, ever win. They're always too old, or too fat, or too thin, or too tall, or too short or some combination of the above. It doesn't matter if we're talking about now, or 50 years ago, or 100 years ago, the story is always the same: women can never win.
I was an unhealthy teenager. I hated my body, and I didn't think that much of the rest of me either. I always felt awkward, so I gorged on things like ultra-cheesy pasta to escape life. I have gradually built self-confidence and slowly replaced most of my bad habits with better ones, but the old me, or at least the memory of the old me, still exists and will always exist.
My friend's foray into the world of fitness modelling inspired me to take a look at the term "eating disorder" in my trusty dictionary. I am completely shocked and saddened that the fitness model craze is not only unrecognized as another eating disorder, but is also encouraged by the hardcore fitness community.
In time, all of my pageant friends became so obsessed with their appearances that they made every woman who walked down the street into a comparison, celebrating when they discovered that they were still the "fairest of them all" and reaching a near breakdown when a long-legged stranger made them feel as though there was more work to be done. A petite blond at a cafe immediately made them "fat." A girl with acne made them scoff and cackle like hens. In time, the side show of pageantry bled off into their every day lives with such vehemence that each moment became a graceless performance.