Leaving Behind a Slight Case of Body Dysmorphia

It never fails, Facebook & Instagram ads bombard me on a daily basis. Recently, I’ve discovered these: cellulite reliever wands, lash lengthener serums, eyebrow thickeners, face exercisers, micro abrasion facial apparatuses, chicken neck preventer ointments, and the list continues.

I know there is an algorithm as to why this happens. The more I click, the more ads will pop up. If I didn’t click on the ads, they wouldn’t show up. I know Facebook & Instagram  know my patterns, what I search for, what my insecurities are, and it can somehow figure out keyword searches based on information.  I click, admire, and wonder what I’d look like with such advertised improvements. Do I need these products? Do they work? I’ve bought many of them.

I can’t help but wonder… why is there such a push for me to change my current self to improve? & why am I personalizing these ads? Were they created for me? Where are the ads on self-acceptance, self-love, self- compassion, and learning to embrace and love my body? Where are the ads on helping others, serving the world to help make it a better place, & how to be a  better spouse? Why are all the ads about solving a problem I may or may not even have? Am I broken somehow? As a result of my continued clicking, the ads continue to be created. So, technically, I’m part of the problem.

It’s not just social media. They are hitting me from all angles. Snail mail is not any better. I’m getting “Mommy Makeover” leaflets promising that breast augmentation will make me feel perfectly wonderful. Are they reading my mind? How do they know I’m insecure about my boobs? To be frank, going under the knife scares the living shit out of me. & while I completely love the look of implants, I don’t think I can get over the fear of someone cutting my body and the fact that I have to sign my life away.

Don’t forget liposuction (do I need lipo? isn’t running miles and miles a week & participating in hot yoga on the regular enough?), botox (needles scare the shit out of me), lip injections (which I don’t even need), & brazilian butt lifts (what exactly is that anyway?)  I want information on how to accept my body as it is, how to love myself from the inside out, and how to be a better steward of my community.

& when is enough enough? Is my 130 pound frame enough? How much weight makes me ‘skinny enough’  to not receive these stupid leaflets in the mail? Billboards bombard me, too. & don’t let me forget the “Living a Great Life @ 50” magazines I receive each month on my driveway. Ummmm… you’re a decade too early peeps! Dumb.

Are my obvious crows feet, deep forehead wrinkles, happy little smile wrinkles, occasional acne, and super annoying acne scars considered flaws? What happened to celebrating  what I look like without the use of special camera lights, filter options, and other brightening techniques? Aren’t I enough without all these options? As long as I subscribe to these techniques and continue using them… they will exist. I sorta wish I’d never ever even signed up for Instagram or Facebook at all. I miss the flip phone days. Much of the time, it plummets my self-esteem. & yet, I continue to post and use these social media platforms.

Why does Facebook assume that I want to improve my waistline, exacerbate my acne, and nip my acne scars in the bud? These ads sorta make me feel bad about myself by insinuating I’m not enough as I am, currently. Or maybe that is the story I’m running in my head. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t click on these ads and peek into the testimonials. Clicking only promotes more ads and I’m falling right into the trap.  I order these products swearing they’ll make me feel ‘good enough,’ as if ‘good enough’ is a  destination. They never do because good enough comes from the inside out, not the outside in.

My feelings of not good enough started in 1st grade when I had to repeat due to an ADHD & Dyslexia diagnosis, when I was blamed by my stepdad for my mom’s mental illness at 15, and when the love of my life cheated on me in high school. Those scenarios, & many others, led me to the conclusion that I was not good enough/ flawed somehow. It wasn’t until recently that I realized I created the story of not being good enough in my own head. Those scenarios were just events that occurred in my life, nothing more and nothing less.

I was watching T.V. the other day and heard this, “Body Dysmorphia is when you always find something wrong, with your body, & take steps, often, to improve your physique.” Hmmmm… that’s me… 100%. I’d go out on a limb and say that is most women. I’m sick of it.

I started crying yesterday as I was using my concealer wand that I ohhhhh so adore. You won’t catch me without it. Tears streamed down my face as I hurriedly covered up those nasty hormonal acne scars.

“I hate my face.”

B overheard me. He turned around. He stepped into the bathroom.

“Don’t you dare say that ever again. I was just thinking about how beautiful you were when you walked into the breakfast area at the hotel today. I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the room.”

My eyes spilled over.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

I got done ‘erasing.’. I popped the cap back on my golden concealer and I wiped my tears away as B hugged me gently.

Something has to change.

Change starts with me.

What I do know: no amount of therapy, no magical tool, no fancy cream, no miraculous ointment, no amount of reassurance, no super-duper procedure, & certainly no apparatus can make me feel ‘good enough.’ People can tell me all day that I’m beautiful, but this is something I have to believe, whole heartedly, for myself.

It starts inside.

It starts with me.

What’s the solution? Acceptance.

1. I’m going to choose to hide social media ads
2. I’m going to throw away & not read ‘mommy makeover’ leaflets
3. I’m going to take a week off Facebook
4. I’m going to take a break from Instagram
5.  I’m not purchasing ‘improvement’ tools
6. I’m accepting my face as it is because my face is beautiful
7. I’m going to stop admiring women with perky breasts and accept mine as they are
8. I’m going to stop calling myself a turtle of a runner and accept the speed I run
9. I’m going to focus on completion over competition
10. I’m going to be proud of my tummy, for it carried two children to full term
11. I’m going to look at my tummy pouch as a reminder of the greatest gifts I treasure: my children
12. I’m going to be proud of my physique, for it’s allowed me to run over 150 miles this month
13. I’m going to believe, whole heartedly, that I am enough… always