Things I’m afraid to tell you

Today as I was going around reading the different blogs I frequent I found Rhi’s post from today, Things I’m Afraid to Tell You, incredibly relatable. I don’t care what anyone else says, there’s something beautiful in finding a connection and community through revealing things we struggle with. Because of this beauty, I will tell you something despite my fear.

Things I’m afraid to tell you: I don’t always love my body.

I started crying after a failed shopping trip last week.

With all of the weddings I have coming up this fall, I am in desperate need of a dress to wear. So while I was out shopping with my mom at Target I decided I’d see if I could find something cute & affordable while I was there. I tried on probably ten dresses. Not one looked good on me.

It was awful.

They were all either too small for my boobs or fit my boobs and were too big everywhere else, made my broad shoulders look like they belonged to a linebacker, were too short for my long body, or just looked awkward on me. I kept up a brave face while we were in the store, but as soon as we were in the car I’d just had it.

I wouldn’t say it was a sad cry, if anything it was a mad cry.

I was mad at the fashion industry for not making things easily accessible for women with my body type. I was mad at my body for still not looking like it should in clothes after losing sixteen pounds over the last two months, for disappointing me after all of my effort and sacrifice. I was mad that, at the age of nineteen, I have to be so deliberate about what I eat. I was mad at the media for feeding society lie after lie that we as women need to look a certain way. I was mad at myself for caring so much that I didn’t look that certain way, even when I knew that in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. I was mad at myself for not being a strong enough of a woman to love my body unconditionally. And most of all I was pissed off that if you really thought about it, I was crying about little more than a handful of yards of fabric.

What a waste of tears.

Always,
L.A.