Acne is hard to live with. Do you know how hard it is to look in the mirror and fucking hate that bumps on your face just won’t go away??? I’ve been fighting this shit for 9 years and I am tired of it.
Me: 150 is a good goal weight for me. It’s within a normal range, it’s achievable, i was once that weight in my adult life, and i can get there in time with healthier eating and exercise
Goblin me, intent on being evil: you should shoot for 130, even better, go for 120lbs, a weight you haven’t been at since before puberty and that would be extremely unhealthy for you and your body type. You’ll destroy yourself trying to get there but maybe you’ll stop hating your body in a swimsuit finally
Body image talk big text
Damn I hate not being sure about how I’m Like, allowed to feel about my body. Like, I want to be happy about how I look and feel and never again succumb to the hatred I feel seeing pictures of myself because that’s what like… evil companies want. And I also can recognize that thin privilege exists and there’s likely times where I benefit from it as much as I don’t see myself as thin at all. So with that in mind, I don’t feel entitled to be so critical of myself because I experience privileges. And furthermore I don’t feel entitled to take up space in a body positivity setting. Then of course gender plays into it and I don’t even wanna think about it. But it’s just confusing. I just saw a pic of myself and I see how uncomfortable I was feeling with myself that day. I see how bad my posture is so that I don’t look so busty. I see how much bigger I look in reality than what I think I look like?? Which is weird cuz on one hand I feel like I am very fat and on the other hand I am surprised by photos of myself where I see what I am actually shaped like and I am disappointed constantly. And then of course why should it all matter. Anyway I just need to talk about this so badly cuz I can’t just stop having a body. And I don’t want to talk to anyone directly about it cuz this isn’t very happy subject material.
I can’t tell what size I am anymore. I can’t tell if I’m gaining or losing. I constantly feel I get bigger with every bite but I know logically that’s not true. I log my food and it doesn’t seem much once it’s written down, but when I’m eating it feels like so much. My brain feels slower. My skin is terrible. I’m exhausted all the time. I don’t like to feel like this, but I also don’t want to *****. Hoping to go on more runs soon. That should make me feel better.
Warnings: cussing, body negativity, body image issues
Pairing: Warren Worthington III x Reader
I love you and your writing, and you’re an amazing person and writer, and I’m sad and extremely low on self-esteem, could you do a Warren fic/one-shot/drabble/whatever-you-choose where the reader is feeling insecure because she has tummy rolls and doesn’t like her face and thinks Warren is too handsome for her and he loves her and her body so much and…fluff? Like I am in a very scary place and I need major fluff and hugs please please please love?
A/N: Been so long since I wrote something that this came pouring out at 1 am. I hope you see this and you feel better! Sorry it took so long!
You looked in the mirror for what
felt like the millionth time today. It was a bad day. Strike that, it was a
really bad day for your self esteem. You kept turning to the side and poking at
your rolls on your stomach. They made you feel so bad, so ugly, so unwanted,
even more now since your boyfriend’s body was so perfect.
You hadn’t been able to stop staring when you met Warren Worthington
the third. He had been shirtless when you’d met him which made it worse. He was
tall, blonde, blue eyed, a jaw so perfect he should go into modeling, arms that
made you feel safe wrapped in them, and good lord his abs. He had abs on his abs. This didn’t even include his
wings. There were so beautiful they didn’t seem real. There wasn’t a part of
him that wasn’t perfect. The man looked like a true angel, like he was hand
sculpted by the Creator themself.
Every time you saw Warren, your boyfriend of five months, you
couldn’t figure out why he wanted someone like you. You were fat, you weren’t
attractive, and you were boring as all hell and told lousy jokes all the time
to cover it up. If he only knew what you knew about yourself then he wouldn’t
want you anymore and that hurt you more than anything. Five months in and you
knew you loved him. You hadn’t told him so but you did.
“Hey baby, you in there?” you heard a familiar and sexy voice call
out. The knock startled you and you nearly fell over. “Babe? You okay?”
You quickly wiped your face and flushed the toilet to make it seem like you
weren’t in there for nothing.
“Out in a minute!” you called hoping he would buy it. You turned the
faucet and washed your hands. You dried them on a towel, threw your sweater
back on, and opened the door. Warren stood there with a questioning look on his
face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to take so long.” You said quickly.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He looked suspicious. Warren may be tall
and blonde but he was anything but stupid, despite what some people thought. He
knew something wasn’t right with you. Something hadn’t been right with you
for a while now. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the bathroom lately.”
“I’m fine, just ate something that didn’t agree with me.” He nodded.
“Okay, when you wanna tell me the truth I’m ready to hear it.” He
threw up his arms and you watched his wings flare out. His tattoos made his
cheekbones look even more incredible.
“What do you mean?” you asked nonchalantly.
“I mean, the trips in the bathroom for freaking hours, picking at
your food at dinner, you won’t let me see you in anything smaller than a
turtleneck, you hide, you cover yourself, you won’t let me touch you, it’s
getting bad enough you won’t even talk to me or let me hug you. Are you mad at
me? Did I do something wrong? Is something going on with you I should know
about? Babe, I love you, I don’t know what is wrong but I wanna help fix it.”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands. “Do you just not want
me anymore?” Holy shit…what? What? What!? WHAT?!
“Wait a minute right there Warren Worthington III! You think Idon’t
want you anymore?” You threw
your arms up over your head. “Are you fucking crazy? That isn’t it! That
was never it! I don’t understand how you can want me?” You felt tears pressing into your eyes.
“What are you talking about?” he raised his voice a
little. “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re the most beautiful girl I ever
“You’re a liar!” you yelled matching his tone.
“Don’t call me that! How can you say that?!” He raised his again.
“BECAUSE I’M FAT!” You shrieked. He took a step back. He looked at
you with wide eyes. “Because I’m fat! I’m ugly! I have zero personality or
redeeming factors. I tell jokes all the time to cover up the fact I’m not
worthy of you okay?! I’m just not! You are a literal angel! You are gorgeous
and sweet and so handsome and you’re smarter than anyone knows and I’m not
worthy! I’m just not!” You wanted to say more as the tears ran down your face
while you made the argument against yourself but you stopped when his arms, and
wings, wrapped around you and he lightly covered your mouth with his hand.
“Stop it. Cut that shit right now. Let me talk.” He uncovered your
mouth. “I don’t know where you got this idea that you weren’t worthy of
me. If anything I’m not worthy of you. You are gentle, kind, loving, and God
knows you’re beautiful. Every part of you is beautiful. I make bad decisions, I
smoke, I drink too much, I do bad things and listen to music that pisses
everyone off. I argue, get mad, and have a temper but you still hug me every
day and say you like me for who I am. You don’t get to talk bad about yourself
ever again, because sometimes you are the only good thing I have in my life.
You’re the only good thing I ever did in my life.”
“Let me finish!” He pulled you into the bathroom and had you stand
in front of the mirror. You looked in it and saw the usual sight of yourself
you hated with Warren behind you looking like the angel he was. He gently
reached down and lifted both your sweater and t shirt under it over your head.
You stood there in your bra and shorts right in front of him. You had never had
sex, hell, you had never been this undressed in front of him before. Your first
instinct was to cover yourself but he held your hands in his own.
“I don’t know what you see. So, let me tell you what I see. I
see the face that I love waking up to every morning, I see the hair that looks
messy and all I want is to play with it, I see the lips that form a smile when
you’re watching a funny movie or watching me train with the guys and all I want
to do is kiss them,” he left a kiss on your lips and then on your neck “I see
the most beautiful eyes in the world, I see the best pillows I’ve ever laid my
head on,” his hands gently ran over the sides of your breasts, you laughed at
that “I see the waist that fits perfectly in my arms,” he wrapped both his arms
around your waist. “I see the body that may very well, one day years from
now, give me a son or daughter or both, I see my beautiful, amazing, gorgeous
girlfriend that I love with everything I have left of my heart. Now, why the
hell would you ever think I wouldn’t want you over something stupid like a roll
on your adorable stomach?”
You were so stunned you couldn’t speak. You went wide eyed taking it
all in. You looked at him through the mirror’s surface and then you smiled.
“Warren, I…I love you.” You said after several minutes.
“I love you too Y/N.” He turned you gently so he could kiss you
properly. He gently picked you up and pulled you off towards the bed. He never
broke the kiss. “Now, can we please make out or do I have to keep
convincing you?” You didn’t answer with words. You just pulled him down for
Negative: I feel fat.
Alternative: I feel dysmorphic. I feel uncomfortable in my body.
Negative: I don’t want to eat xyz because I don’t want to get fat.
Alternative: I feel uncomfortable with eating xyz. Xyz is a fear food. I don’t want to lose control by eating xyz. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable after eating xyz.
Negative: This shirt makes me look fat.
Alternative: I feel uncomfortable in this shirt. I don’t love the way I look in this shirt. I feel dysmorphic in this shirt.
Negative: I hate xyz part of my body.
Alternative: I feel uncomfortable with my body. I’m having body image issues.
Negative: Xyz food is bad for you.
Alternative: I don’t enjoy eating xyz. I feel uncomfortable eating xyz. Xyz isn’t something I eat.
LANGUAGE IS IMPORTANT! Often times, it’s easy to forget that the things you say aren’t what you really mean, and can even hurt people who interpret your language differently. Explore you fat-shaming food-shaming language and see what you’re really trying to say that doesn’t shame anyone else. It’s okay to feel negatively towards your body or food, but it’s not okay to use language that reinforces that negative on your yourself and others.
PS I would love this to be a thread of reblogs with more alternative languages!
1. Eternal Summer. Fall Out Boy. || 2. Black Dragon Fighting Society. My Chemical Romance. || 3. War Pigs. Cake. || 4. Original Prankster. The Offspring. || 5. Never Wanted to Dance. MSI. || 6. Pete Wentz is the Only Reason We’re Famous. Cobra Starship. || 7. Smells Like Teen Spirit. Nirvana. || 8. Welcome to Paradise. Green Day. || 9. I Was A Teenage Anarchist. Against Me! || 10. Give Us The Wind. The Future Islands.
The struggle with weight loss is that I’ll never have the body I /really/ want because I WILL have extra skin since I gained so much weight from my ED. I don’t think I’d ever be able to afford surgery either so I’m grappling with that as I fight my disorder.
Binge/emotional eating is so frustrating and I don’t like the idea of saying I’m addicted to food but the fact is that’s probably what I’m facing since addiction runs in my family (except it’s alcohol and not food go figure). I use it as a coping mechanism and also a punishment all at the same time.
While I’m glad I’m not an alcoholic, it really is frustrating being the fattest person in your family. But! My grandparents overcame alcohism and my mom has never been an alcoholic but has lost a lot of weight to take care of her diabetes so I’m sure I can do this!!
It’s just stressful and scary all at once
[Tweet: @AmericanID_MN to @AJemaineClement: “"This is the ideal male body. You may not like it, but this is what peak performance looks like:” followed by a selfie of Jemaine Clement giving a thumbs-up to the camera.]
chubby!kirk is really really important to me, especially when it comes to gender swapped au’s - if the media in the 23rd century are anything like they are today, being female AND the youngest starship captain ever AND in charge of the fleet’s flagship would mean she is constantly under media scrutiny, just waiting for her slip up, and they’d rip her to shreds over every pound she put on
which would really start to get to her after a while, especially being as insecure as every kirk in every universe is
You think biology has stopped forgiving you.
And each year the moon slips 1.5 inches farther from Earth,
you tell me that you’re always one step farther
from loving yourself and two steps closer
to finding your own ghost. Years from now,
you say even the palaeontologist
who tries to assemble your fossils will give up
when they find that even your backbone has
given into being more liquid than bone.
That the left hemisphere of your brain lit itself on fire
when you were ten, and no longer remembers how to use “love”
and “myself” in the same context anymore.
I know you are all bruises and thunder
from beating yourself at night in your sleep,
pinching your hips and thighs until your blood
has stopped running and started howling instead.
Five years ago, your mother began noticing that the
carton of milk always seemed to refill itself and started hiding all the
measuring cups in places she knew you couldn’t reach.
And after spending four hours lifting the fork to your mouth with
both hands shaking so hard they’d think you were trying
to balance a whale’s heart on your fingertips,
I watched you struggle not to turn your stomach inside out over
toilet bowls the way sea-stars do.
Baby, I know you hate this body.
I know you have forgotten what the stars taste like
because you’ve been so caught up with the idea that you
must shrink until your thighs can hold the universe
between its spaces before you can call your skin and bones
something like home.
But please, let today be different.
Tell me you are learning.
Learning how to rearrange the bones of
the words “my”, “love”, “I”, and “body”
until it sounds less like broken English and
something more like an apology.