I have gained a decent amount of weight in the past few years. Probably most of it while dating my fiance. It doesn't make me happy but I have noted that I am generally more happy than when I was slimmer. This is due to a few facts. One being that my fiance doesn't make me insecure that he will leave me for someone else or that he is repulsed by my body and it's various imperfections. Another being that my fiance isn't constantly harassing me about my body and it's various imperfections. One of my exes did that constantly. He told me my thighs turned him off (but apparently my vagina didn't). He told me I should work on getting rid of my stretch marks and suggested buying cocoa butter to do so. When viewing a Special K commercial, that detailed a diet plan that included eating their cereal for two out of three meals a day, he pointed out that that could be a viable option for improving my appearance...and I was already smokin' hot (Hahaha! No really, people told me that occasionally during that time period. Just not him.).
He also wished I was more like his ex (but that's a different story) and was obsessed with porn and Jessica Alba. At that stage in my life I hated Jessica Alba, I hated how my ex treated me, but most of all I hated myself. Jessica Alba and myself were innocent parties but I chose not to blame the guilty one at that time. As a lot of abused women, I stuck with the asshole despite his clear abuse, clear disrespect, clear lack of love, clear distaste of me in general, and his clear obsession with is ex. Clearly, he did not want me but I was a mediocre substitute that he was willing to "put up with" at the time. But!
Today I am quite sure I do not fit into my ex's standards of attractiveness. And I'm glad. I don't want him to find me attractive. My fiance finds me attractive despite my cellulite. Even it's increasing volume over the past few years. I'm fatter and happier than I was in the past. In 47 days I'll be fat, happy, and wearing a pretty wedding dress that is flattering despite my girth. Fuck my ex. Fuck airbrushing. Fuck society's standards of beauty. Fuck that kind of ignorance.
I'm tired of even thinking and talking about my ex but I'm constantly reminded of his douchebaggery quite often. And it's about time I stop denying it to myself and people I know. My fiance's stunning contrast in behavior and treatment was the first thing that opened my eyes and made me stop questioning myself and my worth all the time. Hearing similar stories from other women who have gone through abuse over the years at the support groups I host and realizing that I too was abused has continued to open my eyes. It's easier to see things more clearly when you're not personally involved. And most recently, reading about how obsessive porn consumption is capable of skewing men's ideals of beauty is ringing true. And as I discovered today, Jessica Alba is probably still hotter than I am but she's far from the perfection my ex constantly rubbed in my face. I read about The Impossible Beauty of Jessica Alba on Hoyden About Town. It's a good read, I recommend it.
My ex would have a problem with the bulge circled above. There's nothing wrong with that bulge. There's nothing wrong with the picture on the left but there are people who clearly do because the image on the right is the finished product. And that finished product isn't even real. Today I don't hate Jessica Alba for being the unwilling standard of what I was supposed to look like and most importantly, I don't hate myself. I do hate my ex as I probably should have done years ago when it mattered. At least now I'm in a relationship with someone who is realistic and respectful. And at least now I am realistic and respect myself.
Me too, son.
1 week ago