My entire childhood and some of my early adulthood, I was always the fat girl. I'm very proud of how hard I worked to be in such good shape, but sometimes I wonder why I don't eat myself back to morbid obesity. I don't know why I was completely ashamed of myself! I ate my emotions and "cut" them off (i.e. self-mutilation), leaving my brain in a dopamine-induced food haze. Of course, that didn't last! It was always followed by shame; not just because I ate too much, but because I lacked the will and motivation to do anything about it. Then after a series of profound moments and unbearable boredom, I decided to better myself.
I want to see the world and meet different people (Yes! This misanthropic nihilist wants to meet people!), try exotic foods, and learn about different cultures. You can't do these things lying in bed all day. Not to mention, I really hate hating myself. So, I got up and decided to do something about it. Naturally, there is A LOT more to this story! Perhaps one day, I'll write about it in my autobiography.
Long story short, I used to define my self-worth based on how I looked. I've been fat my whole life, within that same time span, I've also been a misfit. Eventually, I learned how to cake on makeup and do my hair in an attempt to either draw people in or push them away. I thought the only way to be valuable was to look valuable. If I didn't look like what I perceived to be valuable, then I deserved to be alone. How petty! How moronically artificial could I be to not remember the rot that inevitably sets in?!
Do people treat me any differently now than they did when I was fat? Yes, very much so! Are they nicer? Not really...
No matter what I look like, I'm too different to fit into a traditional mold. I'm too aware to be blind to the fact that beauty is nothing more than quality mating, innately making you a more titillating conquest. I used to want kids, I also used to pretend to love them (Kids are annoying). However, I already decided in my mid-twenties it was best not to reproduce. For that reason among many others, theirs no point in being valuable to anyone but myself and those who value me as a person.
I'm not going to lie, I enjoy looking at men and women with beautiful parts. Regardless of my shallow tendencies, it doesn't diminish the fact that those individuals are people with thoughts, feelings, hopes, dreams, and insecurities of their own. Being beautiful doesn't make you special or unique...it just makes you lucky; and more often than you might deserve, you get lucky!
Vanity is dangerous and potentially self-destructive. We're more than the pretentious layer that society expects us to be; the clear, colorless human beings that make our idiosyncrasies less terrifying and uncontrollable. We constantly change and transform, we grow old and then revert to stardust. We are different, yet we are the same. As an act of self-love, I vow to be less of a superficial twat goblin!
