A Crack in Self-Esteem: July 21-Present

There are days when I feel physically and emotionally healthy, but sometimes my mind can't help but get the better of me. Since writing these blog posts, I feel like I can air out some of my racing, self-deprecating thoughts and then forget about them once I've clicked the "Publish" button. Blogging, so far, has been an effective way to be honest about myself without feeling the need to make excuses for my appearance or shamefully slink into the background. But then there are days when my old patterns take over. Hopefully this post will help to absolve my week of obsessive negative thinking.

Exactly a week ago today I had a doctor's appointment. I was a little nervous, but I had generally calmed my mind down enough so that my heart wasn't pounding like crazy in the waiting room. When they weighed me, the scale read "95"--with my clothes on. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I thought I at least weighed 100--that's what I tell people anyway--so to see that number was gut-wrenching. I haven't been able to shake the thought of it since. I knew I lost a little bit of weight after a recent Crohn's episode, but not that much. (I don't own a scale for obvious reasons.) When I look in the mirror now all I see is a hardness to my body; bony with a lot of gaps where flesh should be filling me out. I didn't notice that as much before my weigh in. I've been measuring my forearms like a nut job to see if I've gotten any smaller. I don't whip out measuring tape or anything; I loop my thumb and middle finger around the widest part of my forearm and if my fingers can touch, I know I'm in trouble. If there's a space where my fingers don't touch, I'm slightly reassured that I haven't lost too much. Generally speaking, the bigger the space the better I feel. I often try to keep my upper arms flat against my sides to maximize whatever fat is there, because I feel like that will make my arms appear more normal and less scrawny.

Last weekend I caught a glimpse of my legs in a pair of shorts in a store mirror and was instantly embarrassed that I had been walking around like that all day. It makes me wish it was fall so I can't start layering on clothes again. It's strange how seeing a number on the scale can completely change your perception of yourself. I was feeling better about myself, unapologetic for how I looked, but after seeing that number I felt like crawling under a rock or something. I wonder if the way I see my body in the mirror is skewed in the same way anorexic people are said to see themselves, only reversed. When I see my body, I think to myself, Oh my god. You're disappearing. I know I'm not going to totally "vanish" or anything, but to notice that I'm shrinking or that some of the fat or muscle I used to have is gone, is pretty unnerving.