Body dysmorphia sucks. It was obnoxious in my teenage years, nearly crippling in my twenties and as my 30s ended, I’m finding new and interesting ways to dislike the way I look. As 40 creeps up, I’m understanding why women go under the knife and inject things in their faces. Because the things that I dislike about myself now are still thinking I’m too fat (not giving myself any grace because I’ve had two children and had a car accident in my back and body don’t work the same way) and now learning all new fun ways to dislike my face. 

Most mornings when I wake up I don’t even put on my glasses, it’s just better that way. I won’t wear makeup because after I get used to hiding all my imperfections, it’ll take me weeks to months to look at myself without criticizing my appearance. I guess my natural resting bitch faces are catching up with me and all the lines are getting deeper. That doesn’t help that. I definitely scowl most of my days at work because of the dumb things my freshmen do. Captions leave marks. 

It’s probably also why I give up social media so often during lunch. Besides the mind rot of Doom, scrolling and picking apart every aspect of my life because it doesn’t What influences are filming and staging. I just look at other women who have multiple kids and all this free time to exercise. I keep telling myself maybe when B is older I will do it again. But the reality is I just need to find the time to work at myself again. 

And even when I get the time, things are going to be different. My body is different. How it holds extra water, weight, and fat is different. After having Adelyn, things returned to normal, but after Bennett, everything’s lingering. I don’t know if that has to do with having a boy or a girl. But I have seen so many other women that just look like they’ve never had kids before. 

I know this is a first world problem and vain to a core, but it’s an ongoing battle. 

One this month I’m losing.

We got these cool jerseys for our competition team and I accidentally ordered a medium. I didn’t think any big deal of it until I saw a picture of me standing next to the rest of my high school girls. And because my chest is so large, I looked pregnant all over again. That was a spiraling moment for me. It didn’t matter that once I pinned the jersey back; it fit just fine. No, every single thought was “you’re fat, you’re old.” 

Like when did old jump into my mental abuse. Not one bit of me feels old. Maybe it’s creeping into my thoughts as the calendar keeps peeling away. We have less than 50 school days left and the kids that are graduating this year of my graduation clones. I’m ‘05 and they are ‘25. I’ve always enjoyed this thought and never really felt old. I just thought it was cool. And then I took that picture and wished I could erase myself from it.

As I write this, I am more annoyed with myself. It’s all dumb thoughts. Thoughts that I never seem to beat. 

My body dysmorphia stems from a deeply unhealthy place. Celiac kept me under 100 lb for most of my life. Doctors say my healthy weight should be between 110 and 115, and I’m 127. Not that much of a difference, but my body just feels wrong with all this extra weight. I regained my post-baby weight (135 pounds) and spent six months wanting to avoid people. I started working out and I felt good again, however, I got sick and everything stopped. 

Getting back into that routine is going to be a necessary evil; sacrificing time with the baby or with my husband is the only thing that will make my brain okay with what my the way my body looks. 

So cheers to being nearly 39 and still battling the same stupid thoughts from twenty years ago.