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Hello, officer? I’d like to report a case of missing legs — On Having Excoriation Disorder

Contains mentions of blood, and substance abuse disorders

       My legs are, without a doubt, one of my best features. I cherish them. After a history of negative body image, it is important to me to have a part of my body I like. But for the majority of the month of September, I have been hiding them. Despite hating the cold weather and feeling a great sadness that the summer is coming to an end, I have been glad to have an excuse to break out the fleece-lined tights and jeans early. I cannot begin to entertain the idea of being seen with my legs bare anymore, because since the beginning of the month, my calves and thighs have become a torn canvas of irritated skin and dried blood.

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It’s MY Body, NOT Yours.

Ever since I was young, my parents have attempted to tell me what I can and cannot do with my own body. They told me that I was too young to understand how society would perceive me, depending on how I dress and how I choose to express my own body. They told me that until I turn 18, they are responsible for what I do to and with my own body.

This included my own virginity.

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I’m a girl…I can still ask you out, right? Is that weird? Oh. Oops.

This past Friday I finally had a date with the guy I really liked for about six months, who also happens to live in Pennsylvania. I don’t fall for people very often..but when I do, I fall HARD. We’re talking send-a-care-package-in-the-mail-just-because-you-have-a-busy-semester kind of hard. And folks, it went horribly on Friday. I’ve been putting the list of things in my head that made this night turn into a similar scenario to the bombing of Pearl Harbor (maybe I’m a bit dramatic..but here it is):
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Pressures in NYC

The first time I moved up to NYC I felt like I was in constant competition with all of the other girls there. Which is ridiculous considering there are millions of other girls and most of them look like, and probably are, actual supermodels. I would buy new clothes that I thought would make me fit in, tried out different styles that were not me, and would never leave without doing my hair and makeup. Needless to say I was miserable, for many other reasons, but this was also a factor. I came home early and swore off NYC and my career.

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Blessed with Bosoms

I have had boobs since I was eleven years old. In fact, it would seem at eleven, I would experience all the things associated with puberty in that one year. Some of my oldest friends can’t even remember me being “flat-chested” and they would joke about how I was born with boobs. I have had a love hate relationship with my boobs mainly because others seemed to notice them. I have heard every single epithet hurled at me from eleven until now at twenty-five from males and females alike. Just to name a few names, Tits McGee, Tig O’ Bitties, and my all time favorite, Jiggles. Through these names were probably meant to be endearing, I  am growing sick and tired of the attention solely based on my boobs. But it is not only the names but the gawking, the back handed comments, the jokes ( I have heard every boob joke by now), the jealousy of other women, and the back problems.

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Avoid Leaked Nudes Like the Plauge

Roughly two weekends ago, popular social networking service Reddit served as a hub to host leaked nude photographs and videos of various female celebrities including Jennifer Lawrence, Victoria Justice, Kate Upton, and Jessica Brown Findlay. Unsurprisingly, the content spread like wildfire and has since been redistributed on other social networking and image hosting sites.

Apparently, the racy content was originally procured by an individual — a gentleman and a scholar, surely — who hacked each woman’s iCloud account. Taking this into consideration, netizens are slightly more sympathetic to the victims than if, say, the pictures and videos were leaked by a scorned lover or accidentally uploaded by the women themselves to one of their personal social media accounts.

However, that is not to say that victim blaming isn’t alive and well. Continue reading →

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I’m a Crybaby

Today, at school, I cried in the bathroom. I walked out of class because I was embarrassed over the most ridiculous thing. I cried because “no one understands me” and “today was a shit day”. I also cried because I was angry. Angry at people, angry at myself for taking things personally, and furious because I was sitting on the bathroom floor sobbing. As I sat on the floor between a locked stall door and toilet, I kept asking myself, “Is it okay to cry? I’m a spoiled, privileged, young person. I have a great life! Why am I crying? Why? Am I overreacting? Why can’t I stop? Why should I not be able to cry when I want to? Why do I keep crying? I need to toughen up!” This continued for an hour and thirty minutes. Time I will never get back.

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A doctor’s view on health

I’ve always been active. In high school I was a year round athlete and my body reflected this. Looking back on pictures I can hardly believe that I looked like that because I always saw myself as huge. According to my weight which was 15-30 pounds higher than my friends I thought that I was so much larger than I was at 135 pounds, I had an extremely warped view on my body. Now as a senior in college I have gained about 20 pounds and it is a continuous struggle to love myself. There are days I stand in front of my mirror and feel empowered and beautiful and strong and there are days when I’m getting dressed with friends or looking at old pictures that I feel like somehow I’m failing, but why do I think that way? Continue reading →

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Empowerment, Doing Sex Right and Terrible Doctors

When I think critically about why I decided to visit the doctors a few years ago, if I really am honest with myself, I realize I was seeking sympathy more then a cure. That’s not to say I wasn’t looking for a solution. I just wanted someone to reassure me that I would be okay and tell me there was some sort of several-step program that could “fix” my body effortlessly. This was not the case (could you guess?).

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Fatness, Doctors, & Shame

I’ve always been fat. And until a couple of years ago, I was completely unaware that I had permission to love my body exactly the way it was. And so does everyone else. Everything changed when I discovered body positive bloggers on Tumblr who wrote about fatness. When I first read these posts, it was as if a wave of recognition washed over me – I felt validated and like I was no longer alone.

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