My Take on B.D.D and being the D.U.F.F

Body Dysmorphic Disorder
a mental disorder characterized by distorted body image and obsessions about

perceived physical shortcomings.

Abbreviation: BDD.

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Let me start this blog off with saying, sorry that it’s very long… Also, know that there are days I can feel very empowered and beautiful, and within a second I can go straight to berating myself and feel worthless, useless and disgusting…
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I am fat.
No need to say anything about it, it’s true… I didn’t just wake up one morning this way, but I did wake up one morning and realize it was actually a reality…
I stand in front of that giant wall of mirrors in my dining room while I’m eating… I make myself look at my body while I’m eating… Tell myself it’s never going to get better if I keep shoving food in my face…
However, I still really struggle with binging…
I had hoped that upping my dose of levothyroxine would in turn help me lose weight… That it would kick my metabolism into over time and some how I would just miraculously start shedding pounds… I can’t tell you how disappointed and disgusted I am ever time I still see I’m over 300lbs…
I used to be so into exercising. Running used to clear my head… The only thing I would think about while running was pushing myself to the next point because I was disciplined…
I know I”m not disciplined anymore… I cry when walking short distances… Not just from the pain I feel in my back and my feet going numb, but also because I know what I used to be capable of and I want it to be that easy again… I want to be as skinny as I was my senior year and still think I was fat… Not be fat and disgusted with myself…
I can’t even enjoy the physical aspect of my relationship with my husband because there are mirrors in our bedroom… The minute I catch sight of myself I’m instantly depressed… I can’t enjoy it because all I keep thinking about is how I can’t breath easily and my stomach jiggling back and forth… The pain in my lower back is to the point I can’t bend over without putting a hand on my leg for support and I can’t lift my leg up on to my other leg enough to easily put my shoes on anymore… But, this whole time, I still look in the mirror and beg to see any kind of change in my body… I take measurements once a month even though I’m not physically active hoping to see some kind of change… And I’m always disappointed because though I am measuring in the same places, the inches are either the same or more and then I end up wasting a day in bed because I don’t want there to be any chance I see the way I look…
I have days where I think I’m definitely losing weight and I start to hope… And then, the next day I’ll look at myself in the mirror and think I gained weight…
But, this isn’t new… This didn’t just start when I got as big as I am now…
I am fat…
I am disgusting…
I hate my body to the point I stay up endless nights and berate myself for it…
I hate my body to the point that I stay up at night scheming of what I would do if I won the lottery or somehow found a magic gene and had 3 wishes…
I obsess over how I look, but I hate looking at myself in the mirror….
I am fat… And fat is who I am.. I have always been this way… I have never had a positive role model in the “body image” game… I’ve had a lot of people comfortable in their obesity and I’ve had even more people uncomfortable with the thought of gaining weight that I get the brunt of it…
I’ve had so many people tell me “that’s a 5+ pound dress… You can’t get that”
I have been called fat my whole life… But never once unhealthy…
I’ve had more people tell me that being overweight is common in women my age than I have had anyone show me concern for how much I weigh…
I am fat… And fat is me… I spend so much time making my face look good in hopes that it will distract people from looking anywhere else…
I can’t fit into a booth at a restaurant without being unable to eat properly…
I struggle to look in a mirror.
I call myself fat in front of people before anyone else can… But it still hurts me when other people say it about me…
I am fat…..

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This is a post I have been thinking about writing for a long time…. In fact, it’s a post I have been writing over the course of several days…
Originally, when I started a blog on here it was based on body positivity, healthy eating, my struggles and makeup (lots of makeup).
I often made a point to make educational and informative blogs regarding the issues many people face these days with Body Image and looked to inspire people to find a good way to see themselves.
It was hard keeping up with the “body positivity” as I got sicker and sicker and started gaining a drastic amount of weight while I was already pretty morbidly obese… And the more I tried to remain helpful (and hopeful), the more I would go back through pictures of me from my past and realize I had taken advantage of what being fat really was…
I grew up chubby… I remember when I got into the foster home that eventually adopted me I finally learned “shame” when considering my physique… My soon to be adopted mother had at the time made it very clear that I was grotesque and there was no reason a child in 6th grade should weigh any where near 200lbs… Leaving out the fact that I was already 5’8 or 5’9 at this time… and considering 180-190 was the prime physical weight some one at my current height of 6ft should be, I can’t say that I agree, looking back to that time, that I was “overweight”… I was active and at the time eating a healthy schedule. But, I began seeing myself in a different light… I don’t think I ever liked who I was physically or personality wise… The way I had grown up and the lack of friends and increase of bullying as I got older made me an outcast…. I was the black sheep at a very young age and up til I was in 6th grade only the kids from grades k-3 would even talk to me….
By the time I had gotten adopted I had just turned 13, I was adopted 4 days after I turned 13 actually… I had spent a semester of my 7th grade experience in KS and we had to travel back to PA to finalize the adoption during Christmas break.
KS was the first place I ever truly made a friend. The first person I met there was a girl I still talk to to this day… She walked up to me the day we first moved in when I was standing outside. I made a really awesome circle of friends, 3 girls and one guy, that year and it was pretty awesome… It seemed we were all kind of outcasts in the whole school… And consider the junior high was attached to the high school, that was 6 long years of rejection and bullying.
 Alright, to the point here. So, in 7th grade I started playing as many sports as I could… Growing up in Northern PA, most sports clubs were a buy-in and sponsored by the city. being as I grew up in and out of foster care and pretty poor… I never had a chance to play sports other than soccer 1 year, and I don’t remember ever really getting to play in a game…
So… I was super big on doing sports in order to lose as much weight as possible… I started with volleyball… But I quit right before the first game because I believed literally everyone was making fun of me… No one wanted to practice near me, none of my group of friends played and being that I was weird, I once actually hit myself in the face with a ball… I was really good at volleyball… And I think I played because I wanted to impress my adoptive mother, since she played varsity in high school… But, alas, that was the first and last thing I quit doing after I started… I was only allowed to quit because I was 95% certain I was being made fun of, anyways.
In that first quarter I did lose some weight… But, I was still super self conscious… I signed up for basketball and really didn’t care that I didn’t really play at any of the games… I loved the practices… We did some crazy drills and I lost a lot of weight without even realizing it.
I was always super comfortable in jeans and t-shirts. I had some girly clothes, but all the shirts I usually wore were super baggy and my jeans were like a size or 2 too big… I never liked showing off my body, and I didn’t really like wearing shorts either… In south east Kansas that was kind of a big deal, considering at any given moment it could be like 96 degrees in the shade with a dry humidity level of 100%… The only time we really got reprieve from the heat was december, january and february… But, I don’t think I really owned a winter coat til I moved back up to PA.
I was in band, so we marched through out the first and second part of the year and over the summer. And my entire junior high career was very active. We had to run a mile and half every week in P.E. I did basketball and ran long distance in track. My high school career I played Tennis in the fall along with marching band, I did track/long distance in the spring and over the summer I was life guard and riding my bike to and from work when allowed. I was not out of shape once in my entire junior high and high school career, however I was never comfortable or happy with the way I looked… I always compared myself to the other girls… I still had what I called back then “baby fat” on my stomach, it always pooched out when I sat down… I don’t know if I ever have or ever will have a flat stomach… I was tall and gangly… My hair was one length and down to my butt for a long time and I only ever put it in a pony tail (in fact, I still do that to this day if my hair is long enough… straight into a pony tail and not thought of again). I still had that circle of friends from 7th grade, but I was still very ostracized by my peers. So much so that it was getting physical with some of them after I stopped giving in to the name calling… When I was in 8th or 9th grade, a senior in high school legit pushed me to the ground while calling me a faggot and telling me I’d never have any friends… If it hadn’t been for another senior guy being there to get him off of me, I probably would have gotten the shit kicked out of me by him and the two other guys sitting there…
Anyways… So, my freshman year in high school a senior actually took some interest in me… We were both in band, he played football… It really threw me off for a minute, but he used to tell me how beautiful I was and always wanted to spend time with me. We passed notes back and forth to each other in an elvish alphabet… We made out a few times, but he was pretty respectful… I wasn’t super big on the whole physical aspect of dating… Once he put his hand on my upper thigh on our way back from a band trip and I was legit so scared all I could do was look out the front window of the bus. My adoptive mother made it a point to tell me that seniors only date freshman for one thing… She was very graphic about it… My adoptive parents were very sexually open minded… At least the mom was… That didn’t make me break up with him… We ended up breaking up because my mother… She started driving me to and from school, checking in on us… I just got tired of it, so I ended it… We were still friends for a little bit, but considering he was a senior, it didn’t last long because he graduated and went off to college… We emailed for a little bit, but I think at the time he had made it clear that he was looking forward to seeing me alone in a different city because he wanted to introduce me to the wonderful world of sex… He was also in a relationship at that point with someone I knew, but he wouldn’t tell me who it was… I found out from the girl after they had broken up…
So, my whole freshman year was being made to feel like men only wanted me for one thing and I was not allowed to express any kind of interest in boys otherwise I was made to feel non-worthy of that kind of attention… After growing up the way I did, it really kind of set this unnecessary thought pattern when it came to having any kind of relationship with someone outside of friendship.. I often referred to myself as a “c-class girl”, defined by the fact that I was good enough to fuck but not good enough to take home to your friends and family… I’ll say it’s even a reason that I hate monogamous relationships to a point… But, it also made it very difficult for me to find out who I was as a person… I knew for a long time that I was attracted to both sexes… But, I never found a physical attraction to any one at all… I got really excited around people I liked… But I also got extremely anxious and sick because I always thought they only wanted that “one” thing and they were going to get it and leave or they were going to see what I looked like and run away… It made me leery of connection, but kind of a slut… I assumed if I kept having sex that they’d stick around… Even when I didn’t like the way I looked…
My freshman year really set my thought process on how I looked, fit in and dealt with situations… I started really suffering from depression, and my parents had my on so many psychiatric medications that I didn’t really know if I could feel anything at all other than sadness and numbness. I started experimenting in self-mutilation… It was the only thing that could rise any feeling in me for a long time… I used it for a number of things…
One year, during basketball season I ended up playing Quarters with a group of guys… But this was more like ‘bloody knuckles’ because you had to keep the quarter spinning and if you knocked it down the original spinner got to flick the quarter into your knuckles. I think I either impressed or intimidated the guys because I never flinched in pain… I was already used to cutting my skin open so it didn’t matter how far the quarter went in, I still enjoyed the game… At one point the quarter struck my actual knuckle and it freaked the kids out… It really pissed my adoptive mother off… I don’t know if it’s because I was hurting myself or because she couldn’t get me to stop… She told me many times that no one was ever going to want to hold my hand if I kept splitting open my knuckles and got extremely pissed whenever I told her I didn’t care if any ever touched me ever…
I once thought about joining cheerleading and was informed that I didn’t really fit into that group of girls by my adoptive mother… She didn’t stop me from trying out, but 3 days in to the try out practices she kept me home from school claiming I had Carbon Monoxide poisoning because we got into an argument the night before after a track meet… So I was automatically disqualified due to not attending the mandatory practices…
My adoptive mother used to make passive aggressive comments about me asking for seconds at dinner, saying that I was just undoing all the calories I burned at whatever sports practice I was at… When I was playing tennis we had the outfits that were shirts and skirts… The first time I got my uniform she made a point to tell me it was too small and went into the school and had the coach force someone to give up their uniform to give me a bigger size.
One year, when I was a life guard. A guy had taken a serious interest in me. I thought it was weird, but really was in to it. I liked him. I snuck around and went off to his house with him. We got to a point where we started making out and I was just in my bra and underwear… I had made it very clear I wanted him to leave the lights off… It was still daylight outside, but he was kind of a nerd, so his room was pretty dark save for the computer lights. I had told him I was ready to go and he jumped up and turned the light off… Saying “please, I just really want to appreciate your body.” I was mortified. I covered my face and as much of my body as I could before curling up on his bed and begging him to turn the light back off… After that, my adoptive mother had found out and I wasn’t allowed to leave the house anymore without supervision… She didn’t actually find out what I was doing, just that I had walked over to this guys house and hung out with him… She let her mind do the rest, I suppose… That set a pattern of thought for her and myself… I became mortified of sex… How would I ever be able to do that without her finding out… She knew everything… That guy was so angry with me after I “disappeared” that he really never talked to me again, he didn’t even come back to the pool…
I was a size 8 in pants for a long while until I bought a pair of size 8’s for myself on a church Christmas shopping trip and was told that I looked like I had to be uncomfortable because the pants were WAY too small for me and she was surprised I could even get them buttoned.. All of this was said after my adoptive mother chastised me for buying anything for myself on a “trip meant to buy things for others”.
The end of that year (which was my junior year), I cut all of my hair off to the scalp. I was trying to avoid cutting myself, but that didn’t work, because when my adoptive mother came back to “fix my butcher job” in her words, I was made to feel idiotic for doing that… How would anyone know I was a girl now. Considering I was so flat chested and no curves at all. Some people actually did mistake their son, it was made quick to point out that I had done that to myself and no one really said anything else. I had some fun with it during track practice, often getting other teams to admit they even thought I was a guy… And, from then on I never grew my hair out again…
I met my first husband when I was 19… Around this time I was very underweight. I think I clocked in around 140… I’m pretty sure this was because during my last semester of my senior year, I lived with a couple from my church who were very active and very body conscious that I rarely ate with them. In fact, they had their big meal during lunch time and by the time I’d get home from work, they would literally only be eating cheese and crackers… So, that was about all I ate for 7 or 8 months. I kept up the habit of really only eating once a day, if I did eat, and then kind of binging when ever I had the chance… But, I was still super active. I was still running, I walked everywhere and I had a lot of “experimenting” going on. So, when I met my first husband, he would often bribe me for sexual favors with fast food… I was all about it at the time. I thought it was fun, and I still really was only eating once a day… I remember asking him if he would still love me if I gained 200lbs and was super fat… He said he would, nothing would change his mind… I doubted his words, but I laughed none the less… I think I did gain some weight. I think I got back up to like 170 or 180… But, I had a tummy.
When him and I broke up the first time, I moved to Pittsburgh… I really didn’t eat much then… But, I ended up having my adoptive parents come get me after like a month or so and the first thing my adoptive mother said when she saw me was “Your stomach is sticking out more than mine ever did”…
Needless to say, I started getting pretty active again. I made a small group of friends, Casey (my first husband) and I got back together (off and on actually) and eventually I ended up moving in to my one friends house and a few months later Casey and I had gotten married…
I got super depressed… I stopped leaving my bed, I wasn’t active anymore, I ended up getting placed in a psych ward (for the last time… Out of 4 times… I vowed never to go back)… I started gaining weight and stopped taking care of myself…
I think I was a cool 200 or more when I moved in with Casey and his family, and it wasn’t long after I moved in that we found out I was pregnant…
I had, as mentioned previously in blogs, a hard time dealing with that pregnancy… To the point I accepted getting fat over believing I was pregnant…
However, the whole time I was with Casey I never once felt fat, there were MANY, MANY problems in that relationship, but he never once made me feel ugly or fat…. I might not have worn a size 8 anymore… But I didn’t realize how bad I had gotten by the time I left him the first time… But, leave it to someone who is supposed to be supportive and close, my adoptive mother, to point out that I was obese, had flabby-fat arms and a fat face… I remember crying on the phone to Casey.. Asking him why he never told me how fat I was… Wondering to myself if that had had a lot to do with the problems we had…
When I left him for good, I was moved in with a friend… From April (when I left him) to July or August of 2013 I had lost 90lbs… I was more active, I was pretty much drinking all of my meals in the form of alcohol and I’m pretty sure I was super stressed… I was still driving back to Ohio when I could to see my son… There were a lot of issues there… When I ended up moving back in with my Adoptive parents the divorce became the center of my life… I drank a lot during this time… I was very stressed out… I did try and date but it was hard for me to get into it… I started working out at the Y… I got down to like 220… In less than I a year I had lost around 120 or so lbs… I really liked the way I looked… I started buying clothes that fit me… I really got into makeup… I grew my hair out past my shoulder blades…
From January of 2015 to August of 2015… I managed to maintain the weight… I had moved down to Pitt sometime in April to live with my sister, I threw away all my size 22’s and 24’s and bought a complete new wardrobe of size 16’s… (I still have most all of those clothes in duffel bags in my closet)…
I moved back to Erie and was still dealing with a lot from Casey… I was driving back every weekend when I could, sometimes it was every other… Keeping my custody going at his house and we were still seeing each other in a physical way… I don’t know if it’s because I thought it was easier or if I really was still working through those feelings… I met Adam and we were pretty much inseparable. We even started working together… Through all of this I was still on my Psychiatric medications… One of them was a Latuda, which is a huge weight gain caution for people… I was dealing with a lot and thought that I was severely depressed so my doctor upped my dose from 40mg to 80mg…
I never really paid attention to weight at that time because Adam and I were walking 4 miles together every day to work. It wasn’t until October i realized that I ballooned up to 280… But, most all my clothes were still fitting… But, I had started really swinging into depressive episodes again…
In February we had moved in with Adams dad… And, in February was when I really crashed hard finding out just how much weight I had gained…
Due to being in school and sick a lot, I had quit working in November of 2015… But, when we moved in with Adam’s dad, it became very clear that I couldn’t just sit around all day anymore… Even while being in school.. I had a job interview for a very awesome position at a small construction agency in town… The only pair of dress pants I owned were a pair of Khaki’s I bought when I was living in Pittsburgh… I could not get them up past my thighs the night before my interview… I cried for 45 minutes… I knew I had gained some weight, but I didn’t realize how much I had gained…
That was a really rough night for me… I’ve always struggled with the way I look… Even when I felt good about myself… But I never realized just how much I thought of myself until that night… I felt like I betrayed myself… Because when I threw away all my old clothes I told myself I was never going to allow myself to get back to that point…
I don’t even know how much I weighed at that point…
I started going to the doctor, asking them what could be wrong. Why this was happening… There was no reason for me to have gained so much weight, and the fact that I had been dealing with the fluctuating weight gain and loss since I was 21 was not good.
I got a lot of “it’s harder for women to lose weight”, “weight gain is natural for women your age”… I even had a doctor tell me I should be eating less than 500 calories and working out half of my day…
The one doctor I had been seeing (who I decided to stick with) started me up on Topamax, thinking that would help me lose weight and get rid of my migraines (which it did help with the migraines). I tried to get more active, but it was hard to do anything by myself and Adam was working a lot and didn’t want to work out after work. Considering he is on his feet for 8+ hours a day I guess I didn’t blame him… But I did use it as an excuse to stay lazy…
I got really sick in November of 2016… Thanks giving day actually… I was vomiting all the time, had diarrhea really bad… It had gotten to the point where I wasn’t sleeping or eating because I couldn’t keep anything down… It seemed at the time no one had an answer for me… They told me it was an allergic reaction to the Zythromiacine I was on for an earache… But, that shouldn’t have last 14 days and counting…
When I was still vomiting and having diarrhea in February of 2017, the doctor finally started listening to me… I think it was the fact that I kept pointing out that I was still gaining an obscene amount of weight even when I couldn’t keep any kind of nutrition in my body…
that’s not entirely true… For the first week, I did lose nearly 10lbs… I remember my doctor saying that was the one good thing of acute illness, the rapid weight drop…
But, not long after that I had gone from 282 up to 320… And that’s when my doctor scheduled a colonoscopy and a liver ultrasound…
Nothing came of the colonoscopy… They couldn’t understand the phenomena… And no one ever told me why I couldn’t keep food down at all… But, the liver ultrasound had shown a NAFL (non-alcoholic fatty liver) due to the high triglycerides from being overweight and the blood work showed a just high enough TSH count to have the doctor tell me I was Hypothyroid…
I would like to say that I have poured over my blood work since 2012 and noticed that my TSH levels have been slowly rising up until this point… My liver functions were so out of wack from drinking so much that who 2.5 years of “Casey” I went through and gaining weight so rapidly, which could explain the throwing up…
My sister has this disease called Gastroperesis, where her stomach literally is paralyzed and won’t digest food, so she ends up experiencing a lot of pain until she eventually makes herself throw up…
We talked about it and I think that really explains a lot. She said it can just come out of nowhere, go away and come back again… I do experience a lot of pain with eating and always have, but I hate throwing up… So, eh… I experience a lot of mental and physical pain with eating… As much as I love food, it scares me… And it has for a long time… I don’t “emotion” eat… In fact, I had posted some where that I had thought my depression was causing me to eat more recently… And, the more I think about it, the more I know it’s not true… My shame stops me from eating…
There is a girl I follow on instagram after meeting her one time at a budoir photo shoot… She started a blog a while back to discover herself… She struggles with weight and body issues. She is active and healthy… But, she is also a part of the secluded world of fitness and often faces much criticism due to how she looks… Mojofitlovepunk, LearningwithCurves, This is her blog, and though it’s only 3 posts at the time of my writing this, there is a lot of wisdom.
Her latest post was about accepting who she was, struggling to understand the clique’s of the fitness world and the stigma that comes a long with being a trainer and also letting every one know that she was proud of where she’s gotten in her life.. Regardless of her struggles, she loves who she is… I can’t wait to read more from her. I love that she is in the fitness world… I love that her hobby became her job.. And I hope that some day I can come close to the kind of acceptance she has for herself.
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I’ve always been the D.U.F.F. I’ve never considered myself pretty or special… And, even though I always thought I was fat when I was younger, I did have my brain…
I may not be skinny. But I am very smart… Smart enough to know I don’t know everything and, also, that acceptance is something that’s hard to acquire when you’re working from within…
So, yeah… I’m fat… I’m disgusted with myself… But, I surround myself with people who love me regardless of what I look like and aren’t afraid to tell me the truth… People that help build me up when I’m down and put me in my place.
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