That being said - I ABSOLUTELY have bad days!! Sometimes I even have bad weeks. I will brush off every compliment from my boyfriend, hurting his feelings when he's only trying to be supportive. I will have what I call, a BODY HATE BREAKDOWN, where I still stare into my closet, panicked (Jeans are the devil!) - convinced that absolutely nothing will ever look good on me again, and I should just go out and buy myself 7 velour pant suits - one for every day of the week. Yes, I'll now be someone who lives in sundresses and sweats.
I'll finally will myself to wiggle into a pair of jeans, and swear that they are tighter than they were last week. I will curse my hips, thinking of the nachos I ate the day before, the margaritas I had over the weekend, and then I'll just cry. I will sob like a two year old. I cry because I am disappointed that I don't look the way that I feel I should look (based on a body image I've built in my mind for myself).
I cry because after all the hard work I've done physically, psychologically, and emotionally, I am still feeling these feelings and having these kinds of days. These episodes of body hate. It's frustrating and a little heartbreaking. It seems silly, and maybe vain, and unless you suffer from these insecurities on the deep level that others and I do, you really won't ever understand it. It's not vanity; it's about so much more than that. For me at least, it's really about feeling like you're somehow failing yourself, it's about work you think you're not accomplishing, and it's about feeling so weak when you find yourself in front of the closet in tears.
People who know me think I'm crazy. They know how hard I've worked to get to a healthy place, and they try to be as encouraging as they can, even though they just don't get it. I'm happy to say that for me, these days are fewer and father between than they have ever been, but everyone's got a breaking point. This body image battle is tough, and I'm only human, so I'm entitled to a breakdown now and then, it is my body, after all. I am proud to say however, that thanks to all that hard work my loved ones spend so much time reminding me of – I am now capable of picking myself up, putting on the devil jeans, and getting on with my life. No matter how bad it is, I will always get up, and the next time I have the nachos; my most recent body hate breakdown will be nothing but a distant memory.