to:
I am probably a:
I'm not sure why it's such an imperative for me to be skinny, and why it's such an imperative that I have tiny thighs and a flat belly.
I've come to terms with not having tiny thighs. I've kind of decided that, as most women go, having thighs (in general) is a fact of life.
I've come to terms with the fact that at my height, I should only be a certain density.
But I just can't come to terms with the fact that I will probably never have a flat belly like this:
I mean I could... but when it comes down to it all I tend to choose to be lazy than to do something about it.
What I think I'm trying to express is that I think I'm normal. It's very hard to find pictures of normal people. It's very easy to find pictures of people belonging in the extremes. So much so that because I'm inundated with images of "skinny" women, I get the feeling I'm starting to think of them as normal. I mean they clearly aren't.
I think it's a very interesting task, trying to write yourself out of thinking something. It might not be so interesting to read sure... but that's kind of the reason I try not to advertise my blog.
I think the last thing I'm trying to nut out is the fact that I get the impression that talking about your insecurities, or the things that make you sad, seems to be avoided. I guess when people are together in a group they're trying to have a good time. I mean, I don't know about most people but when I'm with other people I tend to feel happier, and there's less time to think. I feel like if I talk about any worries or fears that it will ruin the mood. That's not to say it stops me from doing it, but I guess over time I've stopped talking about certain subjects.
And those subjects usually end up here.
I also get the impression that no one actually has insecurities, and that I'm the only one that does. I mean obviously that's not true, but it's very very easy to focus on my own thoughts, and it's very easy to look for "evidence" that supports my impression. From a psychological stand point I see why that happens, and that it happens to most people, so technically I should know better. And I'm trying. I'm slowly but surely collecting everyone else's insecurities and weaving them into a blanket that I can hide under and keep warm in. Or some other ridiculous metaphor representing warmth and comfort.
I think I'm feeling better about my thoughts now that I've written this out.
