I don’t think of myself as beautiful. I don’t see myself as beautiful. I have an eating disorder, and although I happen to be in the last months of pregnancy, I can’t help but be more than a little bit relieved that I didn’t gain as much weight this time as I did with my last pregnancy. Is that shallow? You betcha. I can acknowledge that this isn’t the healthiest line of thinking.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I gained about 65 pounds, which put me firmly in the fat category in my own mind. After the birth I pretty much stayed that way for the next eight years. It really bothered me. I tried everything I could think of to lose weight but none of it worked. You see, I’d never been fat before. My whole life up to that point was like a blissful skinny dream. I’d never weighed more than 115 pounds before then, and was usually at 110. Anything above that was like the worst thing I could imagine.
I tried to starve myself skinny on more than one occasion, but all I ended up doing was making it impossible to function. I would even purge what little bits I did eat throughout the day. It was awful. I was so depressed. I truly believed that in order to be beautiful, I had to be a certain size. And even today, knowing all the things I know and having lived through that hell, I still can’t dream of being happy in a larger body. I even have to set alarms to remind myself to eat, while pregnant, because if I don’t, I will not eat enough in a day. This happened to me today, in fact. I went like seven hours without eating anything, and this morning I almost talked myself out of breakfast. Can you believe that? How fucked up is that? It’s pretty fucked up, let me tell you.
I often wonder just how all this got started in my head, and when. I remember growing up, and in my childhood not a single person ever told me they believed I was beautiful. It never happened, not even once. Not even my mother, or sister, or grandmother, or aunt ever told me I was beautiful. I hear sometimes people getting upset because they heard ‘you’re beautiful’ in their childhoods more often than hearing things like ‘you’re intelligent’, or ‘you’re talented’, and it makes me feel stupid for ever wanting to hear the words ‘you’re beautiful’. Apparently, I’m rather shallow.
So, all I had to go on were conventional beauty standards, which, I was skinny, so at least I had that going for me? It wasn’t perfect, though. I didn’t develop any meaningful female shape until I was about seventeen. I was a super late bloomer, so I wasn’t getting any attention from anyone my own age, just old ass perverts on the street. And when I did eventually get a boyfriend, that turned out to be a disaster of epic proportions. Abuse and rape happens, even in highschool.
So, where am I going with all this? What on Earth does it have to do with this religious blog? (Aside from the fact that it’s my blog, and I’ll write about whatever I want.) Well, it’s because of Apollon. It’s because He sees someone that I apparently do not. He has always been consistent in His praise of my so-called beauty. I believe that He believes what He says, but it doesn’t coincide with what I see. I don’t even know why it matters to Him if I see what He sees anyway. I’ve accepted that my human form isn’t at all like my natural astral form. If you saw me on the astral, you’d likely never think to associate the two forms. I can accept that Over There I am physically beautiful, while being the complete opposite over here. But that isn’t enough for Apollon.
In these past few weeks He has been asking me to look at pictures of myself. It’s been really hard for me, since I don’t take a lot of pictures, or allow many pictures to be taken of me. He’s also been insisting that I share those pictures with others. It makes me so uncomfortable, I can not even tell you how much. But I’m doing it. I don’t feel any differently about myself, but I’m willing to see where this takes me.
I struggle with the thought that beauty doesn’t matter at all. I’d rather like to believe that, than to continue to hurt myself with the knowledge of my lack of it. I think maybe I’d rather believe that than to believe what Apollon is telling me, and trying to show me. It’s been such a comfortable thought all these years, and one that’s gotten me through a lot of tough times, psychologically. But maybe it’s run its course? This whole trusting in your God thing is not easy.
Also, I’m not fishing for compliments, people, just processing my thoughts. I’m shallow, but I’m not that shallow.