The truth shall set you free

Lately I've been hard to reach
I've been too long on my own
Everybody has their private world
Where they can be alone

Are you calling me?
Are you trying to get through?
Are you reaching out for me?
I'm reaching out for you
-Eminem, Beautiful

On the strong urging of those who apparently know me better than I may know myself, I was told to look into B.D.D. For those of us who laugh and often times mock the ridiculousness of the idea that all humans can be categorized with disorders and defects, body dysmorphic disorder it seems is a disorder that haunts those of us with a mirror problem. For the past two years since my own college graduation, I’ve become increasingly more obsessed and, at times defeated by the “man in the mirror”. The man in the mirror never seems to agree with me. He’s always filled with self doubt and feels the need to constantly expose my flaws; if it’s my oversized ears, my increasingly rounded face, my haircut..well you can see where the hell im going with this, it can be rather debilitating. And while I’ve since realized that my habits of obsessing over the mirror is not only abnormal but derived from my house of mirrors (literally). I’ve got mirrors everywhere in my house, including one so that I can look at myself taking a shit…yep…like I said, a problem. Now I’m not writing this for sympathy; If I had to give reasons for my desire to write about this disorder as it relates to me, I’d say its 1) to further explain to people why I’ve since become a recluse since my graduation of college 2)because I know myself too well. All the books and websites on b.d.d. stress going to seek psychiatrists help in dealing with it. Yeah, can’t evvvver imagine myself doing that. Not because I’m so tough that I cant pour my heart out to a psychiatrist, its more so because I’m too stupid/stubborn to actually follow thru with it Writing about it, and sharing it will have to do as it is more than my usual response to b.d.d., which has always been to work out harder- I’ve at times spent anywhere from 3 to 4 hours routinely/daily working out (that isn’t a weekend that is) At one point the lady working the desk at the gym I attend, after seeing me and my twin brother working out together for the first time in what had been months rationalized that I must’ve been two people all along because I was in the gym for so long each day. Definitely realized I had a problem at that point. But that seems normal to me. And then there was the times when I wouldn’t leave my bed, not wanting to face the day. I’d sleep until 2pm regularly. I didn’t want to face myself, didn’t want to look in any reflection and see a person who I didn’t feel like could be useful to anyone. I just wanted to sleep, workout and come home to wait to do it again the next day. I’d avoid any and all social interaction (not much different than today) and hope to talk to no one at work. I’d race up to my perch of an office, talk sparingly to my office mate, and for two hours wait to work out- and that was only if I actually made it to work by 2. More than once I slept til 4pm, get up, shower and go workout. Painful and dark times in my life, only now do I truly see why I did it. At the time, I had this misconceived notion of reality, stuck in my own head about my relationships (or lack thereof) and forcing situations with people who probably didn’t realize why suddenly now I had become so awkward /uncomfortable in my own skin…
Most often times I obsess over my stomach. Which is even harder to admit aloud (not that I really am) because that feels even more, dare I say, effeminate. And while that is extremely sexist, dudes my size with big chests and arms don’t usually obsess over their stomachs; my own twin brother could give a shit less about whether he works out his abs or does some insane amount of cardio- he’s more than happy knowing he’s the biggest damn dude in the room. That’s an admirable quality, one that I increasingly envy with each passing day. But not one that’s realistic for me to just suddenly adopt. I don’t desire that for one, but also because of some deep rooted psychological problems from growing up as the fattest kid in most rooms. (ugghh one of those excuses) But in all seriousness, there’s some intense truth to it, I just never really recovered, I always wanted vindication for those years of my life, for people to tell me constantly how I look now to make up for the years of “big willy” or what ever long since repressed social memories I have from my days of being a chunker. I suppose a lot of the obsession is derived more so as a response to those years of growing up fat and being unattractive, my way of saying “how do I defeat obesity”, and my overwhelming desire to not only defeat it, but to destroy that part of me, to suffocate it so far in the back of my mind and body that it completely disappears.
“A distorted image of self can also occur after weight loss. Some people who have lost significant weight have a difficult time accepting their bodies. With this phantom fat phenomena, they may be disappointed in the way their newly-thin body looks, or they may have a hard time viewing themselves as anything but overweight.”(thatsfit.com)
It’s always nice to find out God has a sense of humor. Phantom fat phenomena just doesn’t seem fair if it wasn’t for comedic purposes, in the sense that people such as myself who lose what would be considered a major amount of weight (prob 50ish lb’s for muah) still mentally live with that weight can only be laughed at. Otherwise I’d probably just bash my head until I forgot all this knowledge, because it would be my reaction to finding out that while I can physically lose weight, mentally I never truly can.
And while my pursuit of said desire, to eradicate “Big Willy” (as I was so aptly nicknamed because of the wretched trash that Will Smith released during my childhood) has never been actually stated knowingly (its not as If I’d list it on my life goals) I know I’ve had problems with it for a long time. But it wasn’t until I began to reflect on my two years spent in what I describe as “undergrad purgatory” in which I’ve stalled my life stuck in whatever misconceptions I created about myself during my four years of undergrad are replayed constantly because of the associative properties my memory possesses when it comes to this place (Knox). I’ve become so closed off since the days of undergrad, increasingly distanced from the realities of everyday life, stuck in the perpetual ineptitude of having to rationalize my own appearance to myself, the one person who should be in tuned with that. I envy those who can be fat, not workout, and yet still get smoking hot women. And by envy I mean, I want to thrash the life out of you (or at least devour your soul) because of how fucking hard I’ve worked and for what? To become strikingly more reclusive, at times debilitated by my need to be able to look in a mirror and see just how I look on a regular/obsessive basis. Its as if I overcame so much to finally reach my potential in my final two years of college, making good friends during all four years of college, only to have an increasing distance from so many of them because of the constant thoughts of “why would anyone want to talk to me on a daily basis” or the ever present idea that no one truly likes me because I have so little impact on their lives/aren’t attractive enough. And I’m sure at this point, if anyone (doubtful) is actually still reading this, you’d think enough with this self-pitying bullshit. And you would be correct, however it’s the first time I’ve ever felt comfortable even talking about any and all of this so fucking deal with it (please). How does one go about acquiring what is described as “chronic low self esteem”? who the fuck did I get cursed by in a previous life? This has to be like the movie ”thinner”. I can only hope I too was getting a roadie when I hit a gypsy. My biggest fear of b.d.d. has to be the fear of intimate relationships. That to me scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to be alone, or in my case a career third wheel, spent latching onto my brother and whoever it is he’s dating at the time only because I have a fear that no one would ever truly want someone who “looks” like me. I blow most situations in which a girl likes me because I really don’t think they actually like me. I spend most of the time with said girls looking for some reassurance that they do in fact find me attractive. Enough is enough, and I suppose that means I’m gonna have to figure out a way to either; defeat this thing, or marry Jillian Michaels. While I prefer the ladder, I unfortunately don’t think shes playing full time for our team (if ya know what I and women’s health mean) and not to mention the lack of mirror space for two (sigh)..Its hard to sustain successful relationships of any type, when one is constantly focused on “is my hair too long on my neck” or “do people see the bloating of my stomach” and I’m now bowing out. You win man in the mirror…