Creative not Curated

I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not perfect! In fact I grew up most of my life believing I was below average. That’s the thing about being the “big girl” in high school…you never forget that guttural feeling when you realize that the thought of anyone liking you is a class joke…

So I leaned into it. I became funny. Because at least then I was worth keeping around for some reason. I buried myself in books. That was as much romance as I could expect. No high school sweetheart for me, just the likable funny big girl! At least I fit somewhere.

When I got out for a couple years I didn’t eat. P90x became my best friend and I ran until my lungs burned. I wanted it to hurt because then maybe I’d be too exhausted to feel the hurt inside….It worked. Suddenly, people treated me different-a lot different. I was looked at as though I might have something valuable to say and what’s more I was finally a “romantic option”.

In many ways it felt good, almost like revenge. “See now I’m worth more”!! It didn’t always feel good though… it came with a realization. I’m only human to some people if they deem me “fuckable”….I’ve passed out from being lightheaded and my bones are starting to show, but somehow now I’m attractive. Now that I’m suffering I’m suddenly worthy. It still wasn’t enough though. It never is…

I gained some weight back, never like before though. I discovered I love strength training. I love seeing my muscles pop and grow! It’s incredible! Because I’m getting stronger not smaller! It’s something I plan to refocus on in the New Year… chronic stress is not so kind to the body and I’ve had enough this year to last a lifetime….

It’s hard most days. My job entails seeing seemingly “perfect” women everyday. I see the likes, I read the comments, I recognize much that I heard growing up… I examine my insecurities in everything I post. Wondering if every random dislike somehow correlates to me being ugly or a joke…I hate thinking like that..

I’ve seen skinny, big, tall, short, dark, pale, and everything in between. They’re all beautiful. So why can’t I be?

This story isn’t meant to be a pity party. More like a purge of something that still sits deep in my chest fucking hurting me.. even after all this time.

I don’t know what the future holds, but maybe someone else needs to hear this too or maybe someone needs to realize their words have power and meaning.

Either way…Stay Peachy,

Perstephanie