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Body Dysmorphia - Blog Posts
Sometimes the person in the mirror seems so… strange
It feels like it’s not me
My body
My soul
It’s not me
It’s not who I want to be
So how can my reflection be me?
So I stare at my reflection
Wondering who it is staring back
every time i look in the mirror its someone new who stares back at me.
a face, with features i have had since birth, changing every 34th second
yet every time i look at my reflection it is the same little girl who stared ahead at me.
a face, with features i have had since birth, the solemn look i get when the tide is just out of reach
"Dude, wdym?? You're super pretty!! What made you feel so insecure about your figure?"
Answer: the way fat people are portrayed in movies and scenes where they eat themselves half-blind like literal pigs. Having to watch them as a child started it all.
I can easily tell most movie directors think fat people's only personality trait is eating 24/7 and it hurts.
It feels wrong every time but I don't want to make her feel bad 😭
Im starting to believe that i maybe have body dysmorphia, i dont know if getting thinner of fatter, im shaped like a whale & dont want to look in a mirror
guys idk what you think about hindu culture, but we think healthy fat, rolls, thighs touching and full breasts and thighs as auspicious. not beautiful by the way, auspicious. we think it is godly. we think it is lucky.
please, if any of you are struggling with your weight, looks, height or whatever, always remember that some culture, somewhere out there believes that that is pretty. that you are what is lucky.
Just a really small vent piece, might go back to expand it later and make it into a full story. TW: Self harm/body horror
I unzip myself starting from the eyes, catching my eyelashes between my fingertips and ripping down. It is always difficult during this process of shedding to ignore the parts of the skin that I despise. The way it bulges and folds scatters my brain in panic to see. Tonight I feel wild with the need to get it off me, to not have to carry the burden of it, like an ill-fitting suit that itches with every movement. That fucking itchiness, always there, makes me want to scream. Sometimes it makes me weep. Tonight it makes me so eager to tear the skin off me that I do tear it accidentally, forming a thin line that wells up red after a second. In my itchy impatience I wait until I’m free to stitch the rip back together, guilty, knowing each red line acts as an arrow to point me out as a freak to others. I've seen the way they stare. They can go fuck themselves, I snarl now, knowing I won’t feel so confident when their eyes are scanning my skin, their lips curling. Problems for later. So many problems. I hang it up on a coat hanger and the head lolls down, eye sockets so empty they threaten to swallow me into their darkness. I close the closet door. I will open it again tomorrow morning.
Another silly story for another day of being loosely tethered to this word
Ghost stares in the mirror and wonders if it should shave its hair down to the roots. Wonders if the sheen would shock the living or make it that much more invisible, stripped down to a bedsheet with hollow black circles to stare from. It puts down the razor.
Ghost watches with eyes at the back of its skull. It drifts into town, lingers on the bridge above the train station. Feels haunted by visions of laying on the tracks, staring up at the stars and the pale gulls circling above. Warm summer nights. Fog hangs heavy over the town; a train thunders through into the void.
A man in a striped scarf smiles a greeting through his thick beard. As he passes his hand catches a flaring corner of the bedsheet, rips it away. Ghost is left bare in the wake of his footsteps, watching the sheet descend like a parachute into the fog. Exposed now, wearing wounds like windows, Ghost continues into town. Smiles waveringly in greeting to each person it passes.
i hate being recorded or having photos taken so having a 5 minute long video of me trying to dance to legally blonde out there for everyone to see is making me want to kms
"There is this urge inside me, I need to get it out"
Dude why are my friends so gorgeous like when I'm around them my self esteem is lower then the apple bottom jeans + boots with the fur girlie could ever go...
The Rebirth - March 2023
This started as a vent art At this point in the campaign I was going through a depressive episode and what was supposed to be a turning point in my character's journey made things even worse and things didn't get better even after the story ended. So it was both a vent for me in my personal life and for him. He became a character through which I could explore my self image issues, but it kind of got ruined for me. ( However I was so attached to him at this point I found a different group and gave him a fresh start with a new name, and modified backstory. And so far it's going well. I didn’t want to end this rant on a negative note. )
did i binge or did i eat the recommended amount of calories for someone my age?
Hi hello I'm a new follower and can I do a request of vance that help male reader with body dystopia because and comfort them
Thanks so much for this request baby and thanks for the follow ❤️
Over Critical Much?
Pronouns aren’t specified! So gn! Reader. Fem please don’t interact! This is for Enby and Masc people. Thanks for your interest though!
You were laying in your bed as you lay on his chest. You were curling one of your fingers in his hair. He knew something was up.
“What’s wrong y/n?” He question bluntly as you look up at him. “Nothing.” You say as you close your eyes gently.
“No secrets l/n.” He says with a annoyed face but not annoyed at you. “My dysphoria has been acting up lately.” You say snuggling into his chest.
He sighs as he rubs your cheek. “Your being over critical.” He says as he gives you a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I know me telling you that your beautiful or handsome won’t give a permanent fix. Just know you’re perfect. We’ll get through this together hun.”
He kisses your forehead with a big smile as he looks at you softly and you smile back. “Alright now lay back down. It’s bedtime for you.” He says rubbing your cheek. “I love you Vance.” “I love you to y/n.” He closes his eyes as you close yours as he drifts off to sleep.
Being nonbinary + having body dysmorphia means I always shower with the lights off
Normal people showering:
Trans people showering: don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdown don’tlookdowndon’tlookdown
honestly i do find my body traits extremely attractive. i began romaticizing the features of my body that i dislike but somewhere along the way it turned to genuine attraction. i would go feral for a girl with my body type but somehow i still hate my specific body.