A Diary From Noone

She spoke but no one heard, every scream seemed a whisper, and so she took pen to paper...

Tag: #ugly

Botched Up Bodies…

I have always hated my breasts. They have always been large in size but the bigger the natural breast, the less kind gravity can be. That is a fact. I have always blamed my mother for encouraging me to sleep without a bra on as a teenager, whilst developing. Truth be told, I doubt that notion made to much difference, but it is easier to blame your mum then an anonymous God or fate!
I have always said, that if I win the lottery or come into money, I will be straight down the plastic surgeon’s. Boob uplift, liposuction, laser cellulite remover, the list goes on, the whole shebang! People say just exercise more or eat less. People say an awful lot! The reality is, I can honestly say that all of my ailments are not self inflicted. I do exercise. I eat rather well. Looking back at my pictures in my twenties, I looked fabulous, but even then I was body conscious. People have always picked on me for my weight, even as a child. Those voices are never silenced and will haunt me to the day I die. My issues are not just physical but mental because of being traumatised by criticism about my shape, size, appearance, looks, being dumped by partners or nagged by family members. I never got to truly and confidently enjoy my size when it was rather good. I used to have a natural four pack! I doubt that is ever coming back. One can wish, but actually, I would rather four kids.
Age has of cause played it’s part, like it does upon everyone else, but also depression has ignited comfort eating in the past, I used to sleep eat, sleep walk to the cupboards, snack and wake up feeling sick from poorly digested food and crumbs in my bed. Thank goodness that stopped, but now with BPD, depression, anxiety, psychosis, I have to take an awful lot of medication to steady my mood and weight gain is a side effect.
It is no secret that I self harm. I believe this makes me a little less screamish then most, but watching the inspiring weight dropper Josie Gibson under the knife on celebrities botched up bodies, the surgery really made me feel sick. Josie was asleep through all of it and woke up looking great but I am now in two minds. Not like I can afford surgery anyway but it has definitely opened my eyes to the seriousness of cosmetic surgery. Surgery is surgery and always life threatening.
I suppose that if I was fortunate enough to truly make a decision, under the knife or not under the knife, I am single and thirty-two with suicidal tendencies, if I am going to die, I wouldn’t mind dying whilst trying to look hot. I would wake up hot or wake up not. Chances are, it would be the first, then maybe I could find a man to love me, in this cruel, judgemental and shallow world that we live in. Most importantly, after thirty-two years of failing, maybe, just maybe, I could learn to love myself. I have a lot of love for everyone else but have never loved myself. If nothing else, it would be great to embrace that feeling.

No Picture’s Please!

When you look into the mirror,
What do you see?
When you look at a photograph of yourself,
What do you see?
When you take a selfie,
What do you see?
Beauty?
Potential?
Are you happy to let these picture roam free,
Travelling from the camera,
To a photo album,
Or on the internet for all to see,
Instagram,
Facebook,
Filter,
Tag,
Transported to a world of technology,
Where it will stay for eternity,
Become part of your history.
Bad angle?
Swipe and delete,
Rip it up,
Scratch it out,
Deny the tag,
Erase it,
Burn it.
Do you care what other people see?
Does analysing how you look equate to vanity?
Is worrying about it a profanity?
You may see something in me that I don’t see,
My personality may disguise it,
But I don’t want you to look at me,
Out of fear that you may see what I see,
And like me,
Have it etched into your memory for eternity.
You need not discuss,
Comment,
Insinuate,
Mock,
Or ridicule me,
By saying that when you look at me,
You see beauty!
I know what I am,
And beautiful I am not.
When I look in the mirror,
See your photographs of me,
Take a selfie,
I see blurred lines,
Mismatched shapes,
Flaws,
Dents,
Blemishes,
Fat,
That amalgamates into a vision of ugliness and nightmare’s,
Leaving a taste of bitterness.
I hate myself.
I must confess.
To top all of my personal insecurities,
We live in a world where self image is priceless,
And that makes me feel even more worthless.
Beauty is within the eye’s of the beholder,
I have eye’s,
But see no beauty.
Be it a curse,
Or bad luck,
This card was dealt to me,
I don’t ask for your sympathy,
Just please,
Don’t take pictures of me.

You Fat Cow 🐮

Do something about it!
I know all about it,
I don’t need you to speak of it,
Or shout it!
I got scales all over my body,
That’s why I ain’t with nobody.
A skinny girl in a fat woman’s body,
My reflection is distorted,
I don’t know this body.
I fantasise all day long,
About physically changing from what I am now,
Which is wrong.
It’s the tablets that have changed my physicality,
But taking them is essential,
A practicality.
I got fat stashed,
Like a millionaire has cash,
Five foot two and nowhere to hide it.
From my head to my chest and my knees and feet,
Weight has conquered,
I admit my defeat.
They say beauty comes from within,
But we know that’s a lie,
Who are they kidding!

London Baby….

Seeing all of these beautiful women in their short shorts, bikini tops, tight Spanish dresses and heels makes me more self conscious then ever. When I get body envy I only want to comfort myself with more and more food, have an ice-cream, have a milk shake, drink wine and sangria, eat pizza!
I am so self conscious, I almost don’t want to go outside of the apartment at all. The weight, the scars on my body, the colour of my skin, it is not my paranoia, people are looking at me and I just want to shout, “What exactly is your problem!?” Only I already know their answer, disgust!
So back off people. There are people with worse physical appearance then I, and when I get home, I must hit the diet and exercise regime hard.
It is one thing getting looks of disgust off a stranger,they shouldn’t be so bloody nosey or shallow. I stare at the girls but conceal the envy and just try to look polite! I have a hen do and a wedding to contend with, old faces and outspoken people will be making comments, vocally, with their eyes or both. I am not sure I can handle it!
If anyone that I am bound to bump into that isn’t particularly close to me, if we haven’t stayed in touch. I am like double the size of when we last met. So deal with the shock, do a bit of bitching and please just enjoy the company when we meet. I am on a long, long, long journey of recovery and would not be going back to London as yet if it didn’t mean so much to my friends!
I take antidepressants and anti psychotic drugs every single day! Both of which have weight gain as the main side effect. I haven’t just been eating cake in Brum for the last three years. I began to loose weight and then got far to comfortable and relapsed entirely with my x, plus I was in hospital for 22days May /June and the food there is not healthy.
I hope you are all just thinking…. Get over yourself! For once, this attitude will not offend me. My future trips to London are for the grooms and bride to be, I’ll just be drinking in the corner, minding my own business. I have only wrote this post because I am self conscious enough, without extra digs or comments about my weight and health, I don’t want my low self esteem plus anxiety to result in me not showing up. I am not as independant as I once was and so will not be able to see friends and family outside of the hen and wedding. I will only return when I feel well enough mentally and confident enough physically. I just really don’t want to let my friends down! So please help me by accepting the situation, I have a huge objection to not make my situation permanent xx

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