Debbie (fiantha) wrote in selfinthemirror,

emotional moments at the mall

This is my first post in this community, and I am so glad to see a community about these subjects that deals with body image, not on new ways to lose ten pounds before your high school reunion.

What I realized today in the mall is that it is absolutely impossible for me to wear pants. The more troubling part of this is that I realized I am bothered by this fact. I spent a long time shopping today with my mother for a single pair of dress pants, but my huge hips and thighs and little calves make me look like a turkey drumstick. I was practically crying after trying on the fourth or fifth pair of identical pants, all of which clung to my hips, made a little indent where my legs joined my body, and then showed every lump of my thighs. I always wear broomstick skirts, every single day. I wear them because I love them, because they reflect my hippie personality and are as close the historical costumes I adore as I can wear without getting asked "Are you a tour guide?" twenty times a day. They also flatter my figure- no one can see my hips or thighs! Most people think I weigh about 140, and I'm actually 180. They also think I'm an Orthodox Jew, but that's not the worst thing in the world. I try so hard not to care what I look like. I know that my body is strong, I know that it is healthy, aside from certain neurological quirks. I have lovely hair and pleasant face. I found a shirt today that made me look fabulous, but I keep focusing on those pants, and mostly my reaction to them. I can't understand why a confident, intelligent woman, raised in a fervently feminist family, will spontaneously burst into tears because she can't find a pair of pants that flatters her. I tell myself that it's no big deal. I remind myself of friends who weigh more than me and still look attractive and sexy. I'm not bothered by the weight as much as I'm bothered by the fact that I care about my weight. Do any of you have this problem? Have you in the past? I suppose I probably just need to mature a bit, but at eighteen, in college surrounded by girls who look like they walked out of a Cosmo cover, I feel inadequate and hate that I feel inadequate based on something as insubstantial as a reflection in a dressing room mirror.
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