This is going to sound like the most narcassistic post ever, but frankly, I don't care.
For the past 2 days, I've felt pretty. I did a styling challenge for Tadashi Shoji where my friend Anne took photos of me. The results are on my plus size fashion blog. When I got the photos from her, I looked through each one and not once did I say in horror: “Oh my God, is that what I look like?” Remember when that happened a couple of weeks ago? Sinking feeling.
For years, I've felt a major disconnect between what I actually look like to others versus what I see in the mirror. I convinced myself that I looked one size when I was much larger in reality. It seemed like a way my mind was trying to protect myself from the horrifying truth about how unhealthy I was. Of course, when I would see photos of myself, the crash of realizing I had been fooling myself that I looked happy and healthy was nearly unbearable. Crazy depression would follow. Self loathing and a complete withdrawal from what few life activities I was doing at the time, followed by even more weight gain. Awesome cycle.
With these pictures though? I saw MYSELF. Not the me I used to be or the me I want to be. It's just me. I wish I could explain it better, but it's almost like seeing yourself in the mirror for the first time. It's me – all of me – and it's exactly as I see myself.
look at my calves!
I felt so pretty that for the first time in my life, I climbed a tree. I blame Katniss.
even with a fake moustache – all me.
I'm where I'm supposed to be, and it feels good. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to twirl in my pretty dress because it makes me feel good.
