Skinny Enough?

Instagram, the start of the problems.

Photoshop – Pretty and skinny.

But what about me? Look at my body, my face, my everything. I panic, I begin to sweat, I look at everyone around me. I used to be skinny like that too. Until I had anxiety and they decided that I needed medications that ruined how I looked.

They want me up to 600mg, I’m already at 300mg not including my other medications. It makes me gain weight, I hate weight. I hate how I look now.

“You’re pretty.”

Am I really? Or are you just saying that to be nice?

“Okay, if you want the truth, your cheeks are a bit puffy, but otherwise you’re good.”

I used to be skinny, before I had medications and heart troubles, and something the doctors don’t know what it is yet.

Why can’t I be pretty still? I don’t like being puffy.

“You’re not fat.”

I might not be fat, but I’m not skinny either.

I just want to be the old me, the me without anxiety, without depression, without having to take medications.

“That’s not going to happen.”

Other people can deal without their medications.

“They’re different.”

Oh please, oh please, I just want to be pretty again.

Selfie after selfie and I still look different. No longer the same me, no longer the same person. I hate flowers, they make me look ugly, white makes me look disgusting.

“BE HAPPY THAT YOU’RE STILL PRETTY!”

But what if I said I have scars on my legs from something called striae and the doctors say it’s not normal stria?

“But you’re still pretty.”

What if I said my hair won’t grow any longer anymore? What if I said my hands are rough, that my face has acne, that I wear glasses, I’m short, and I have puffy cheeks, and most of all I have teeth that won’t stay white.

“You’re still pretty, you just have to accept who you are now.”

Accept who I am?

“Everybody grows.”

I don’t fit my extra small pants anymore, my extra small shirt, my pants from 2 years ago, my shirts from 3 years ago. I don’t fit my old clothes anymore.

“Everyone grows.”

But if I haven’t grown taller I should still be skinny, still fit the same clothes.

“Accept who you are.”

I’ll try, but it’s hard, and it makes me cry and oh it hurts to feel out-of-place.

“Everyone feels that way once in a while.”

Oh I just want to be me again.

Stop being so harsh medication, stop making me gain weight.

“Hush, hush, you’re okay.”

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