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Remember the issue of Newsweek with that title? There was a teenage girl on the cover looking at her reflection and prodding her flesh, the implication that American women can't see their own bodies in the mirror.....and as hard as I stared - too fat? too thin? - I couldn't tell which she was.
....It's even worse with my own body.
I've been losing weight lately, and not in the good way. Stress, unhappiness, money. Stress kills me. I can't eat. It's pathetic to try to eat a few slices of toast and not be able to stomach one bite. Depression makes me so unmovitated I can't move (ie it's 3:30 am, and I have class in 4 hours. I'm still waiting to start my homework, and can't even compel myself to bed). And then given my financial situation I literally have no income, so I'm not exactly buying myself groceries. Bad all around.
My wasp-waist seems to be slowly disappearing, while cushioning falls away from my hips and boobs, making me susceptible to painful accidents involving doorknobs.
My butt is still my butt, but my pants are falling off at the hips - I look for my stomache, and see straight down my pants to the floor. I have to belt them in a few sizes, which means chunky denim folds - pretty uncomfortable....but I don't want to buy new clothes, as I anticipate gaining my fluff back when life is simpler.
Still? Every time I notice the 10 pounds or so of empty air spinning around me, a well-trained foolish part of me rejoices. I don't think I'm healthy right now, but every time someone comments on the weight I've lost, my brain fires off a little happy dance somewhere deep inside, even as I explain that it's not healthy for me.