Get the great ass you’ve always wanted

by statia on February 9, 2005

While we were at the gym yesterday, I caught a bit of Oprah. It scares me that I find Oprah interesting sometimes. Oprah is one of those types that you either love or you hate. Like, Martha, I want to hate her, but dammit, it’s hard. At least I can say for Oprah is that she tries to do good. She didn’t turn into Sally, or Montel.


Yesterday she had a bunch of women on who were addicted to plastic surgery. Who would stop at nothing to look “perfect.” One woman’s husband was about to leave her because she had racked up so much debt from her surgeries, that they had re-mortgaged their house and her husband was working three jobs. Yet, had she not had this threat over her head, she would still have more surgery, because in her eyes she wasn’t perfect. Others would steal, pose nude, etc. In a way, I can totally understand. I’ve never had plastic surgery, but I’ve definitely contemplated it, and still do. I’ve always hated my legs and most likely will someday do something about it. When I have the means. But I understood the pain. No matter how much their significant other told them how much they loved them, or how beautiful they were, it didn’t help. I totally identified with them on that level. It wasn’t about everyone else, it was about them. Part of it scared me because they all thought at the beginning, “if I just get xyz done, I’ll be perfect and that’ll be that.”

I was going through the garage the other day, looking for a few old old baby pictures, and I came across some old pictures of me and my ex. This was me five and a half years ago. The night before my wedding. I look at this picture and I can’t believe that’s me. I looked so sick. I was sick. Yet, at that time, I still wasn’t thin enough. Even though my size 2 pants were falling off my waist and my ribs were protruding out, I was still too heavy. This is me now. I’m not fat. I know that. But, I feel uncomfortable in my skin. My old clothes don’t fit me the way that they once did. I’m working out, and yet it seems like it doesn’t work. I’m trying to fight what seems like a never winning battle. I can’t figure out if that battle is being thinner, or finding comfort and happiness in accepting my body the way it is.

I look at that old picture of me, scared of getting too heavy, but also scared that I’ll end up becoming obsessive about the control again. I’m hoping that keeping that old picture and looking at it from time to time, will keep me from going back down that road.

It really is a never ending battle.

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