#i have not been diagnosed with anything (body dysmorphia! an eating disorder! nothing) so this is simply the raving of a mad man

[lcsklss]

i am gonna vent. if i know you irl, please dont interact with this or acknowledge this. in fact, no one needs to interact. im simply spewing shit from my brain

(this ended up being long, and it took me a good hour to type everything out, apologies)

tw: overall, shit body image, slight discussion of self-harm, crappy societal beauty standards that have haunted my existence

i brought up to one of my friends that i sorta forget i am a women, that when people look at me, they probably see an adult women, and that knowing that is very weird to me

i realized i have never told any of my college friends about this, about my body issues

i dont know exactly when it started, but probably with my grandfather

my moms father has always been a very intimidating man, he is loud, tall, says whatever he wants, is fairly curt. it is his way and nothing else

i remember my mom, brother, and myself drove down to CT to visit my grandparents. we sat at the table, i was across from my grammy, my mom and brother one on side, across from my grandfather

i remember i stood up, my grandfather watching me, and he said (around the lines of) "you have broad shoulders for a girl"

i dont know how old i was, i dont know why he felt the need to say it, but i think about that comment all the time

i remember i started getting self-conscious that i had some peach fuzz above my upper lip. i remember the first time i shaved it, i slightly cut myself. i remember my dad saying while he smiled (around the lines of), "trying to shave your mustache?"

i dont know how old i was, i dont know why he felt the need to say it. i still have a mark there. that cut has never gone away. i always have a reminder that i have to shave my upper lip.

then my body started to grow

grow larger then the other girls

i played soccer from first grade, to eighth grade. my the time eighth grade rolled around, i was doing modified girls soccer for my school and another indoor team in the winter.

i was always the largest

and the slowest

i remember, during practice for my indoor team, out coach made us do suicides. if you were the last one to complete them, you had to do it all over again

i was the last one

i remember crying, and trying to cover it up

i was so embarrassed, i hated myself so much in that moment

i was an athlete, i should be able to keep up with everybody else

but i couldnt

i remember when i was in PE, we were sitting against the walls of the gym

i sat down with other girls and we were talking about something (i cannot remember exactly what was happening, if conversation even happened, or if i was involved in the conversation)

another girl came over and started talking to the girls next to me

i remember she said (around the lines of) "ive heard that if your thighs touch, then that means youre fat. you should have a thigh gap"

she never directed it towards me, but she meant for me to hear it

i have never had a thigh gap

not even when i was freshly pushed out of my mom

i think about that everytime my legs chafe when im wearing shorts

im fat

my thighs should not look like this

im fat

when i was a kid, my school nurse was worried that i was at risk of childhood diabetes. but you can't diagnose someone with diabetes by just looking at them. i had to have my blood drawn. the nurse doing it did it wrong, missed the vein and proceeded to move the needle around in my arm.

all because a school nurse thought that i was at risk of childhood diabetes. by doing nothing but looking at me.

i have thought about cutting myself for as long as i can remember. i never have it would hurt too much and knowing myself i would accidentally die but i have urges to

it manifests itself usually when i can feel my stomach on my clothes. when i think too much about the stomach rolls that i know no one would find attractive. when i wear a bra and i know that there is a big roll right below the bra

you know when people measure flour, they take a kn!fe and get rid of any flour not in the measuring cup?

that is how i would do it

anything hanging out too far?

sliced off

the "love handles" sticking out too far?

diced up

i would have to grab paper towels, and apply pressure to make sure i dont bleed out

but then i could hand pick the tissue fat, leaving me skinnier

i would have to call 911 myself, but hopefully it would just scab over. and i could pick off the scabs

i wore, and still wear, many sweatshirts. it is the one place i dont have to think about my stomach.

in eighth grade i was wearing a sweatshirt. one of my friends (at the time) said "you wear sweatshirts because you dont want people to ?????" i cant remember her exact words. but i think it was "so people dont see your stomach" i always remember it as "so people dont see how fat you are" but i think thats me projecting

i dont sh. i pick at my nails often, and rip off skin on the pad of my thumb near the nail, but thats an anxiety thing

i eat three meals a day, even if i dont want to. i know i need to eat.

but then sometimes it feels too much

that if i eat too much for one meal then i need to balance it out and eat less for the next meal

i often think i have overindulged

i had two things of eggs, two hashbrowns, two small breakfast tacos, a waffle, and a muffin for breakfast today

that is simply too much

i should not have eaten that much

people are gonna think im fat for eating that much

they're gonna look at me and see myself how i see myself

they're gonna see the body rolls i desperately want to disappear

they're gonna look at the plates ive collected (3) and think thats too much for someone my size, but it makes sense that someone my size would have multiple plates

they're gonna look at me like im just another fat girl

on a scale of "twig" and "obese" im mid. i am the middle ground. i recognize that i am not as fat as other people, that i have curves in places some people dont have. that my breasts obviously exist, not as large as others. but i recognize im fatter then other people. people whom i view as pretty

other girls who are fat are pretty

other girls who are skinny are pretty

but i am not

i never will be

i remember a friend came to visit me in the summer. i wore a shirt that was a little more revealing then i normally wear (the v line was just a little lower). i stepped out of my room, and the first thing my dad says to me, "is that what youre wearing?" i dont exactly remember how i reacted. i think i got visibly frustrated. i turned around and went back into my room. i couldnt stop thinking about that comment.

"is that what youre wearing?"

why not? its hot outside. i want to stay cool.

do i look bad in it?

i started to overthink my appearance, stepping into view of my mirror, second guessing the shirt. then i got frustrated at my dad. why should i let him dictate what i wear or how i feel.

but it doesnt matter.

i changed my shirt.

i couldnt stop thinking about it. i couldnt stop thinking about my appearance. i couldnt stop feeling my stomach on my shirt. i couldnt stop the pit opening in my stomach, a wave of discomfort.

i stepped back out after i changed. "you didnt need to change".

yes i did.

the possibility that someone could find me attractive is,,, so abstract to me

i have almost been in two relationships.

i know its possible that someone can find me attractive. but its rare

the thought of someone seeing me as i am, seeing the belly rolls, the back rolls, the horrible farmers tan, the underarm skin, the belly stretch marks and breast stretch marks that have yet to fade

of someone touching that skin, that skin that no one has ever touched but me

but me when im trying to see what i would look like flatter and narrower

over the summer i wore a bikini top and shorts for the first time

and when i look back at the videos from that day, i am disgusted by how i look

i dont look cute, hot, or attractive in any sense of the word

i look like a box, i look chunky, i look awkward

i dont look like a woman. i have neck hair i constantly have to shave. i have peach fuzz to manage. i have sideburns that need to be put in check. i dont wear womanly clothes, i dont wear clothes that show off too much stomach, or chest, or arms and if i do, i wear either my black Bo Burnham sweatshirt or my maroon MCR sweatshirt.

when i am in a state of self-awareness, it manifests itself in a small wave of,, disgust?

its not nausea, its a pit in my stomach that opens itself up, its the sudden urge to take a kn!fe to my skin so i can finally stop feeling this way. its an all-encompassing feeling, as if something is covering me in a shroud of self-pity and disgust.

i dont have an eating disorder, nor do i self-harm

nor am i fat enough to be embraced by any sort of fat community. but im not skinny enough for people to not stare and think "oh shes so brave"

idk how to express this to people. the disgust i have for my body runs deep. the disgust does not feel justified because im not obese. people do not see what i see, they dont feel a pit open in my stomach when it expands and i can feel my shirt

[hobaworld7]

MYG - Insecurities (TW) (M)

Pairing : reader x idol/yoongi

tw: mention of eat!ng dis0rder, body dysmorphia, weight and insecurities about reader's body, like b!g or feeling not enough. there is also a lot of fluff.

PLEASE : don't read if you are underage or are struggling with ed because this could be triggering*

I feel like i'm in the right place to write about that, i've been medically diagnosed with anor3x!@ and went to many therapies for my ed. so please be comfortable to get help if you struggle or you can always talk to me, my dm are open!

a/n: I wanted to write this one since a while, so here i am a 10pm when i have to wake up at 5am tomorrow, but hope you'll enjoy and please comment some request!

disclaimer : BTS or Suga doesn't belong to me. The scenario does. Remember that it's only an imagine. I also took some of his quote about body positivity because it fits with the story. I'll put them in italic, so you know that they are not mine.

LISTEN TO THIS SONG IF YOU NEED A REMINDER OF HOW BEAUTIFUL YOU ARE!

________

You've been struggling a lot lately. One year ago you were diagnosed with an eating disorder. You've went to therapy and since have been follow by a psychologist and your doctor. It was doing well, you've improved a lot but you were still feeling fragile. A little thing could be triggering enough to put you in some bad habits again. Summer was coming and even if your psy kept telling you to love your body that it does so much for you, just the thought of wearing and seeing yourself in short or crop top in front of people make you sick.

Here you were, in front of your full size mirror. You've tried at least 6 outfits. Nothing was okay. Your thighs were a little too big and you didn't like the way your arms fit in all of your tops. At this point, your bedroom was a mess and you were at the breaking point. You got out of your clothes, put on one of your boyfriend's hoodie and decided to call him.

-Y/N, is everything all right? I'm waiting for you at the studio.

-Yoongi, nothing looks good on me. I feel fat and ugly. I don't have anything to wear. I tried 6 outfits. I just can't get out of the house today, sorry my love...

-Babe, put anything that feel comfortable and come to the studio please. Take that long sleeve of mine that you love seeing me in. Wear it. You would look beautiful, as always, in it.

-Yoonie, I really don't feel like going out...

-Please jagiya, I'll wait for you now.

He hung up before you could say anything. He knows it was the only way to make you go out of your apartment. You went to his wardrobe, grab the long sleeve he was talking about and some legging too. You put your favorite white adidas shoes and some sunglasses before heading out. You were feeling shitty but you know you had to go see your boyfriend to feel better. He had a whole pm planned for both of you. You took the bus to his studio.

_ _ _

-Babe I'm here!

You knock slowly on the door and open it after hearing him telling you to come in. It was a little studio with all his instruments, some screens and a couch so he could rest during the busy days. You always love coming here when he was working on his album.

You hear him talking over the phone so you decided to get cozy and find your favorite spot on the couch under a blanket. You were scrolling on TikTok when Yoongi decide to come lay on you like a big bay, his head resting against your chest.

-Hello beautiful baby girl. What do you wanna eat?

-I don't feel like eating...

You wrap your arms around your belly. It was a bad day.

-I know, but you still have to take a bit or two. Now please, tell me what you wanna eat?

-I don't know, some ramen would be good?

-Perfect babe, i'll order something.

He kisses your forehead and go order food. You were a little hungry actually. But the eating disorder was like controlling your thoughts and after that body-hate morning, you didn't feel like you could eat. Like you were punishing yourself.

But Yoongi was amazing and understood how you were feeling. That's why he was forcing you to eat and get out of your apartment. He wanted you near him so he could watch over you because it was a bad day.

____

After you ate and he did all the work he had to do for the day, you both went home. You were feeling a little bit better. Once you arrive at your place, Yoongi went to the dressing to get changes and you went in the kitchen so you could grab something to drink.

-Babe! Y/N! Come here please.

You hears Yoongi scream from the dressing room. You let your coffee on the counter and went to the walk-in. When you open the door, you saw that he cleaned all your mess of the morning and took off the sheet that was covering the mirror. It was a full length one and he put on the sheet a week or two ago when you told him you felt ugly this day.

-Come here baby.

He reaches out for your hand. You take his hand and he slowly drag you near him. He put his hands on your shoulder and turn you around so you are facing the mirror.

-Baby, please not today..

You put your hands around your body.

-Please, let me do something okay?

You mumble as an answer. You knew he was stubborn so if you let him do what he wanted to do, it would be easier then try to leave right now.

-You are so beautiful baby.

He puts his hand on your hip and slowly pull up your hoodie.

-Raise your arm baby.

You slowly do as he said and he then slowly undress you. You were now only in your bras and legging. You rapidly put your arms around your body and turn to face him.

-Please babe, can I leave now?

Yoongi put his hands on your cheek and lift up your face toward him.

-Trust me with that okay baby? You are so beautiful and I love you so much. I just want you to know. I wanna tell you over and over again how perfect you are. Now turn around and look at yourself in the mirror, please.

You turn around slowly and he put his index under your chin and lift up your face so you can see your reflection. He cover your neck of kisses and put his hands back on your hips.

-Look at that beautiful body. He's so precious.

He take off his shirt and trow it away. Then his hands are on your hip and his lips on yours. As he kisses you, he undress you of your legging.

-I don't want you to loose weight. Just imagine, one gram of your beautifulness leaving your body. I wouldn't be able to live.

He goes sit on the couch that decorate the corner of the room. He take your hands and once he's comfortably sit, pull it so you can sit on him, facing the mirror. He start kissing your neck and shoulder. His hands touching every parts of your exposed skin. His mouth was devouring your skin. Your eyes close, just taking all this sweetness and pleasure in.

-Open your eyes baby. Look how beautiful you are.

You start feeling his lips, sucking and gently bitting your skin. Probably leaving marks all over your body like he loves to do. You didn't really mind, honestly. Yoongi loved it so much, seeing his passages on you so it kinda turned you on.

-You are so pretty baby. Look at your body. Reacting so much under my touch.

Both of his hands were touching your body and you were shaking under his touch.

-Y/N, I love you so much. You are so amazing. You are so beautiful. Please never think you aren't enough or not pretty enough. You're a piece of art.

___

If you want to read more, here is the link of my masterlist : https://www.tumblr.com/kimtaehyung-taetae-writing/710423978560421888/masterlist?source=sharethank you army!

[alaskan-wallflower]

tw for animal death (kinda) body dysmorphia, suicidal thoughts and mentions of eating disorders

so…my dog is dying.

i’ve had this dog since i was little. I’ve had her for twelve years (i’m older than 12 in case you’re wondering. i’ve had her since i was a toddler.) and i don’t know what to do. she won’t eat, she is peeing everywhere and she isn’t her normal self. and i’m scared. the thought of having to put her down makes me feel sick to my stomach and she was diagnosed with CHF and Hyperthyroidism, and the vet said that she may not have too much time left. and i feel awful that i can’t do anything to help, i can’t fathom losing her. it terrifies me. she’s been in my life and provided so much comfort and i don’t wanna lose her, but seeing her suffer breaks my heart. and i don’t know how to handle this. i’ve never been good at handling emotions without breaking down completely and losing the one thing that’s making me happy rn is going to fucking break me. maybe i’m being dramatic. who knows.

and then earlier today, one of my family members saw me in a bathing suit, a one piece, and i’m…kinda curvy..? i don’t like talking about my body because it is weird but y’know…like, my legs are kinda thick, and I do have a visible chest. It’s nothing drastic like Jessica Rabbit or anything, but y’know. and i kinda have a chubbier stomach..? not obese, and not even fat, i’m of average weight for my height, my bmi is like, 22 or something, but i just…don’t have a flat stomach, which i was insecure about to begin with. i do work out, i have been doing better over the summer, but i just can’t make my stomach flatter. i do exercise, i walked nearly 6 miles a day the past two weeks and i’m trying to regulate my exercise times, i really am. and i try everything i can to lower my weight in a healthy way. But I tried binding my sides to make my waist smaller and mg stomach look more flat, but i can’t with a bathing suit. and a family member just…decides to saw something about how ‘i’m fat’ and i know it doesn’t sound like a big deal and i’m probably being dramatic, but i don’t have a good mindset when it comes to my body in the first place and the first thought is to go back to old really bad habits of mine.

and usually, when i stay feeling like this, my mental health tanks. and i’m stressed as fuck about school and i really fucking don’t wanna go back because this year is gonna be difficult for me academically, i’m in all honors and ap classes and it’s fucking terrifying. because everyone thinks i’m supposed to be smart, or that i’m supposed to fill in my brothers impossibly big shoes, and i can’t handle it. i feel like i can’t do anything. i’m not smart. i’m not bright, i’m no prodigy and i will never be. i’ll never be anything more than a lowlife, second place kid in my family. and i want to just…i want everything to stop. for five minutes. i need time and i don’t have it. and i’m scared.

and i already know no one is gonna see this, let alone give a shit. but it just…hurts. i’m not my brother. i’m not someone who’s smart, i’m not gonna be the future president, i’m not gonna be anything. i’m just…me. and me doesn’t seem to be enough for anyone. my friend circle completely combusted and all of the kids in that group just…left. that’s a bad thing about me, is i try too hard to keep everything i have safe and secure with me, and when it all falls apart, i just…shut down. and i feel horrible about that. i feel bad that i can’t keep everyone happy. im supposed to be the glue of my friend circle in school and i just feel like i broke it. because this year they kinda just…drifted away from me without a word. just kinda stopped wanting to be near me, stopped wanting to partner up with me during class, they would literally just start grumbling whenever i asked or they were paired up with me and i don’t know what i did wrong. and im scared to start school because of it. im scared that im gonna be friendless and im scared that i’ll be alone again. and i hate it. i hate everything that’s going on in my life and i just wanna end it.

and i know no one will see this. i know no one will care, but i just…needed to get it out somewhere. i’m sorry.

[briamichellewrites]

45

Mike looked into body dysmorphia, a disorder where a person’s view of their body is distorted. A person could work out excessively, cover themselves in clothing, get cosmetic surgeries, wear makeup, or diet to remove perceived or imagined flaws in their appearance. He wasn’t a mental health expert, but he would advocate for her to get an evaluation. Bruce mentioned he would also do research. He thanked him for the update. Though he hoped it meant Brie would receive treatment, he wasn’t holding his breath.

He and Patti consulted Tom Hanks and his wife, Rita. Their son, Chester was also going through a serious drug addiction. It started when he was sixteen. He had gone to multiple rehabs but was yet to remain sober. They were heartbroken to learn that Brie was going through the same thing. It seemingly started after she gave birth to her twins. They also told them about her divorce.

It was civil. She was going to sign away her rights to Mike and his boyfriend. That was the last update they had about that. She had gone to Paris to look for a vacation home. When she came home, that was when things started. She overdosed on cocaine and was in the hospital for twenty-four hours. Because of the divorce, she was living at a hotel but they kicked her out after her overdose and she had been homeless since. Mike and his boyfriend were afraid she was going to try to take her life.

“She was diagnosed with postpartum bipolar disorder, which could be causing this. We have no idea what the hell is going on.”

“Why are they getting divorced”, Tom asked for clarification.

“Because she is going to sign custody over to Mike because of mental health issues. To do that, they have to legally divorce. He and his boyfriend are going to share custody with the biological father.”

“That kind of makes sense. Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, he came out as gay. They were involved in an open marriage, which she fully supported because she wanted him to be happy.”

They met his boyfriend. He was the kind of guy who was perfect for him. Very respectful and he treated Brie like a younger sister. They had nothing but wonderful things to say about him.

brielikethecheese: Another twenty-four hours in the hospital because the police found me passed out in a public bathroom. The only reason why I’m on this app is that I feel like I’m screaming into the void. All that comes back are the thoughts in my head. I’m not worth anything. Not even love. I’m ugly and nobody understands. I’m just going through a manic episode and will be better in a few days. Fuck that. Why get mental health treatment if nobody fucking cares? How fucked up do I have to be considered worth listening to or taken seriously? I’m so fucking tired.

Mike tried. He and Brie felt like she wasn’t being listened to by the hospital’s mental health staff. It was beyond frustrating. He was so scared that one day he would find out she was dead. The twins were back home with him and Phoenix after staying with his parents. They had gotten over their colds and were feeling better. When his mother dropped them off, they gave them big smiles.

Dada! He and Phoenix were thrilled to have them home with them. It was the distraction they needed. The twins were learning how to sit up by themselves, though they were still a little wobbly. Before they knew it, they would be crawling all over the house and putting whatever they could grab into their mouths. That meant being very careful about watching them. No, Lily. Don’t put that in your mouth, Lila. Their little girls were growing and it was exciting to watch their milestones.

Brie was desperate for something to eat, so after the appointment, Mike brought her into the studio. They had a break room with some free food. He let her pick what she wanted. She got a couple of oranges, a banana, and a Gatorade from the vending machine. He handed her a bag of chips. Thanks. She was starving and had limited places that would allow her into their establishments, so any food was appreciated.

The band was waiting patiently for him. They had started practicing but they needed his vocals. When they came in, she pulled the garbage over to a chair before sitting down. They were in shock at her appearance. She had lost weight, her hair was a mess and she looked like she hadn’t showered in days. They watched as she peeled the orange and started eating it without acknowledging their presence. Mike read their minds and nodded. Phoenix patted his shoulder before he took over with Brad.

She was sober but was wanting to go out and find something to get her high. Her body had gone through withdrawal from heroin while in the hospital. Chester watched her and it broke his heart. He knew what she was going through and he wished he could take it away from her. But, he couldn’t.

The media found out about her latest hospitalization and shared it on the news. She wanted to go to Paris to escape the media attention. But she would need a visa to stay for over ninety days. Three months wasn’t enough time. After eating and cleaning up, she went out with her bottle of Gatorade. Where was she going? She didn’t know. Her body had to move around because she was anxious and restless. She was craving heroin but didn’t know where to get it.

During the next break, Rob, Chester, and Phoenix went to go look for her. They found her gone. Brie? They looked all over, even in the women’s bathroom. No. She had left. Chester mentioned going back to make sure she hadn’t gone through their stuff and taken anything. That was a good idea.

“Did you find her”, Brad asked.

“No. We should all check our stuff to make sure she didn’t take anything”, Phoenix said.

They checked their wallets but it didn’t look suspicious. No, she hadn’t taken anything. She seemed dazed like she wasn’t really there. They all noticed how she didn’t even acknowledge them when she came in. Chester went through his stuff because he couldn’t find his antidepressant medication. That was what she had taken. It wasn’t about money, but getting high.

When they were done rehearsing for the day, they went out to their vehicles. They noticed a figure wrapped in blankets lying on top of a flattened cardboard box next to the dumpster. When they got closer, it was obvious it was her. To make sure she was still alive, Rob bent down and shook her. She groaned before sitting up. Why was everyone waking her up? He apologized and said they just wanted to make sure she was still alive.

Chester asked for his medication back. She didn’t have any medication. They pulled the blankets off of her until they found the bottle of medication next to her. She was lucky he wasn’t going to call the police on her for stealing. Phoenix and Brad grabbed her arms and forced her up. They then followed them back into the studio. She protested the entire way.

Inside, Rob put his hands on her shoulders and told her he didn’t care if she hated him or not. He was bringing her to rehab. She didn’t need rehab. Yes, she did. She was stealing from them. Fuck you! She fucking hated him because he was just trying to get rid of her. Then, they could forget about her. She struggled until she got out of his grasp. After stumbling, she tripped on her feet and fell. Thankfully, she didn’t hurt herself.

They helped her up. Leave me alone and let me sleep! She could sleep in rehab. I’m not going to fucking rehab! Mike realized that the thing she was afraid of most was being abandoned by them. He went over and hugged her tightly. We are not leaving you. They just wanted her to get better because they loved her. It wasn’t about forgetting about her. She started crying.

“It doesn’t fucking matter. They kill people in rehab. People fucking die. Then, they burn their bodies to get rid of the evidence. The people turn up missing and everyone thinks they ran away but they really are just buried somewhere. They have huge furnaces, like huge pizza ovens. They give them with medication and then they overdose. That’s how they get money. Insurance pays them to kill addicts to keep them off the streets.”

That made absolutely zero sense. She wasn’t thinking rationally. The saddest part was she believed it was all true. It wasn’t true and they had no idea where she came up with that idea. They could waste their breath by convincing her of the truth but it wasn’t worth it. What could they do? They were helpless. That meant they had to let her go.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon @fiickle-nia @boricuacherry-blog

[orchestrahearts]

ivy & her eating disorder

i don’t think i’ve addressed some of these details in depth publicly on either of my blogs so here’s a more comprehensive post on it. tw for bulimia and emotional abuse.

As pointed out to me recently in canon, Ivy’s body image issues started at a very young age. She was literally 8 when, for a period of time, she basically stopped eating. Why? Because her mom regularly was telling her how fat she was. (In reality… she wasn’t. She was maybe a little above the average for her age and height, but nothing so dramatic as Leigh would put it.) The constant comments dug into Ivy deep, and she decided she’d fix it herself. So she stopped eating, and when she gave into her hunger, she’d immediately get rid of it once she was done.

Leigh is, fully, an undiagnosed clinical narcissist. Throughout Ivy’s life, she’s been regularly manipulative and emotionally abusive. She criticizes her every failure, minimizes her every success, and constantly holds herself up as the standard. She also regularly pitted Ivy against her younger brother for her attention and love. The harshness of Leigh’s criticisms always increased if she was feeling insecure or if Ivy wasn’t being respectful and reverent enough of her.

The biggest thing Leigh always had comments on was Ivy’s weight. Whether she looked fat or thin to her, she always had something to say about it and her eating habits. Ivy felt like she was always under her mother’s scrutiny. This turned her into a massive perfectionist. She couldn’t be anything less than perfect if she wanted Leigh’s approval, which she so deeply did, and never received. Her frustration at this lack of validation manifested in large amounts of insecurity and anger which carry on to this day.

Ivy’s eating disorder went unnoticed (or rather, undiagnosed) for twelve long years. She hid it well, but it was always in the back of her mind. She had terrible body dysmorphia from Leigh’s constant criticism of her size and always felt the need to be smaller. She massively reduced her calorie intake (which was terrible with her active lifestyle) and purged when she felt she had too much. She regularly suppressed her hunger with things like gum.

She only stopped these patterns when, during her run in the Broadway musical Chicago, she broke her foot during a dance routine misstep that should’ve only been at worst, a rolled ankle. When she went in to have it treated she learned her bones were getting weak, and if she continued on the path she was on, her career would end. She hadn’t been diagnosed but enough symptoms were there for them to know. She was only 20.

Ivy refused to retire from the business she loved and had only just got started in so she reluctantly went into treatment. She quit her show and spent several months getting better. She worked on healing her body, gaining back the necessary weight to become healthy but avoided the psychological care that was being offered to her. They wanted to get down to why she’d been doing this to herself for so long but Ivy didn’t want to address it. She was committed to getting better so she could get back to her life, she didn’t want to talk about the reasoning behind it. She especially didn’t want to talk about the ongoing criticism in her mind that was just echoes of things her mom would always say to her. She met young people who grew up in (physically) abusive family situations and what she had wasn’t that. Facing the reality that she grew up a victim of emotional abuse was too much for her to handle.

When she completed her inpatient treatment program she immediately broke one of the first rules set for her: no heavy exercise. Dancing on Broadway was notoriously rigorous and Ivy took on a role in a new musical Hairspray, which was doing trials out of the city. The show was dance intensive but she hoped being out of the city might relieve some of the pressure. That didn’t turn out to be the case but there were only two alternatives to not performing: getting a day job, or moving back in with her mother. Neither of these Ivy considered an option.

By the time we reach canon, over a decade later, she’s mostly recovered. She primarily eats healthy food as a way to stay away from problem behaviors, but will occasionally indulge in some junkier food. It’s a big rule of moderation. She’s also mostly learned to tune out the body critiques in her mind. She can dance eight shows a week, singing at full capacity, and barely break a sweat. It’s a wild difference from when she was 19, constantly tired and dizzy and forcing herself to make it from one scene to the next. She’s learned to appreciate her body for what it can do for her and how well it’s weathered years of harsh treatment in the arts. She struggles and almost relapses sometimes, especially when she’s stressed and particularly when her mom’s around sewing doubts in her mind, but she’s managed to stay healthy because she never wants to face the prospect of having to quit because her body can’t handle it ever again.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

The Size of a Heart

Pairing: Lee Hoseok (Wonho) and Reader

Word Count: 9,919

Genre: Established Relationship AU - Slice of Life AU - Smut - Angst - Fluff

Overview: Between work and obtaining an MFA, it had been too long since you and   Hoseok had gotten to spend more than a few hours together, let alone be intimate with each other. When he whisks you away for a well-deserved   weekend getaway, just the two of you and no one else, you eagerly jumped  on board, and him. But when you wake up alone left with your thoughts,  unable to escape the insecurities you once put behind you, this weekend  changes your relationship in a way you hadn’t even hoped for.

Warning: Tattooed Wonho, Pierced Wonho, messy kisses, Wonho is a hoe for the reader’s boobs, size kink - body insecurity, body dysmorphia, talk about dieting, talk about starving, talk about binge eating, fasting, self-hatred, self-conscious, use of the term fat in a negative view – explanation of the butterfly project.

A/N: This drabble was perhaps one of the hardest fics I’ve written, and that’s because this story deals with something that I’ve struggled with for many, many years now. With that being said, one of the many things this story deals with is body dysmorphia.

For those who are unaware, body dysmorphia or - Body dysmorphic disorder - is a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or  flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by  others. I am stating this right now, I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder, but I have done many of the things that are mentioned later on in this fic.

This was not an easy story to write because I put in my own experiences with being self-conscious, with hating what I see in the mirror, with seeing an image of myself that isn’t what others see. To be honest, I’ve also left out a lot of the things that I’ve done because of that. There were many moments were I had to stop and walk away from this fic because it was so hard to read the things the MC is going through, and knowing that I did them, that I still do. It’s not easy.

This is just a heads for those who may not be comfortable reading such things. And that’s perfectly understandable. For those of you do decide to read this fic, well, I hope you enjoy. I really do. There are moments that made me laugh, so I promise it’s not all angst lol. I really do.

Master List:

Music Playlist:

Part of the Intimacy Anthology Project

©thatmultifandomhoe 2020. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness. Leaning against the side door, you watched the world blur by from the passenger seat of Hoseok’s car.

Only half an hour earlier did you get a text from him telling you to pack a bag. Somehow, he managed to clear his own schedule, and knowing that you were free as well, he decided that the two of you needed a getaway from reality for a few days, even if it was only to his place. The best of it all, was the promise of spending all day in his bed.

You and Hoseok had only been dating for six months at this point, and while sex with him wasn’t a new thing, this was the first time that you were going to be spending a weekend with him. With all the hours that he put into his tattoo shop, and you working on obtaining your MFA while still working full time as an assistant to a family run law firm, more often than not your schedules didn’t line up. Work and school dictated both your lives, making it near impossible to spend more than a few hours together.

Despite living in the same city, the two of you relied on video chats and messaging apps to stay connected as if it was a long-distance relationship.

Which is why once you had received his text about his plans, you had rushed around the apartment, ignoring the strange looks your roommates gave you as you ran to your room, throwing in clothes from the closet without a second thought and those lacey bra and panties that had been waiting for their moment to shine.

Three nights. Two days. Alone with Hoseok sleeping next to you, was all that you needed and wanted to do. There were no plans whatsoever that involved leaving his bed.

Shifting in the seat, the corners of your mouth lifted when seeing Hoseok glance at you, his eyes lingering on your bare legs as you straightened them out more. He was driving one-handed, the other resting on the console, fingers intertwined with yours as he rhythmically rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Won’t be much longer,” Hoseok said, lifting your tangled hands to kiss the back of yours.

You hummed in agreement, watching the corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiled and chuckled, glancing up at you before focusing back on the road. He had asked for you to be ready to go by seven, that way there wouldn’t be much traffic to deal with.

“You sure you won’t have to work this weekend?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Hoseok nodded, kissing your knuckles once more and keeping them against his lips for a few extra moments. “I promise, love. I made sure not to book any sessions.”

Adjusting in his seat, he shifted his knee against the steering wheel, the clicking of the blinkers going off as he pulled into his driveway. Your smile widened as you let go of his hand to gather your purse and backpack, prepared to open the door when the lock sharply echoed in the car. There was no time for you to react because the next thing you knew, fingers were gripping your chin and turning you to face Hoseok. For a split second, his sneaky grin took up the majority of his face before his mouth descended onto yours.

His plush lips were soft against yours, and while he had given you a quick kiss when you had left the apartment, you had been too excited about being with him to be able to properly enjoy it. Now…the bags slipped from your fingers, a dull thud barely registering in your mind as you cradled the back of his head. Briefly you felt him smile, but when you leaned further into him, his hands sliding their way down and around your frame as the kiss deepened.

It had been so long since either of you kissed like this. Usually you settled for soft and sweet, occasionally indulging in his games when he would try to pull you back for a chaste kiss, then another, and then one last one, I promise, until you had to rush to get back to the office or class.

Hoseok tugged on the bottom of your shirt until it was freed from your jeans, eagerly sliding his palms over your back, trailing each bump of your spine and leaving your body shivering with his sudden touch. Threading your fingers through his black hair, you lightly tugged on the locks, his sudden groan shooting you straight in the heart.

“Been too long,” you murmured, shifting in the seat so that you were sitting on your knees in the seat, and for the first time ever, hovering over Hoseok as you leaned back down, hungrily kissing him.

When was the last time the two of you were able to lose yourselves in each other? Without worrying about work and projects getting in the way every single time?

There was no warning from Hoseok except for a squeeze of your hips when you felt yourself becoming airborne for a few brief seconds, finding your new position to be straddling his hips. His hands felt like they were everywhere, lost in the taste of the mint gum he must have chewed earlier to do anything more than moan when his hands slipped into your back pockets to squeeze your ass.

Taking advantage of your open mouth, he slipped his tongue in, grip tightening on your ass as he felt your hips rock against him.

Even with the AC on, the cold air did nothing to cool your body temperature, making the already warm summer day hotter inside the car. Although you knew who to blame for that sudden change.

Your heart was racing as the kissing continued breaching into desperate lust. Your chest was aching from the lack of oxygen, but you refused to give in to such a simple thing like air. In your opinion, this, kissing your boyfriend, was far more important despite how much your lungs were disproving this decision.

It didn’t help that despite being on his lap, space between you and the steering wheel were tight. Needing something to hold on to, you slid your hands up Hoseok’s chest, gripping the sides of his leather. The sudden pull on his jacket had him moving forward, and with your minds preoccupied, neither of you realized the consequence of that action until it was too late.

The horn blared in your ears, jolting the two of you apart at the unwanted noise that only stopped when Hoseok tugged you off the steering wheel and against his chest. For the short moments afterwards, the outside world fell silent, your chest heaving as short gasps escaped from trying to catch your breath. Palms placed firmly on Hoseok’s chest, they moved with him as he tried to regulate his own breathing, and it was there that they shook with his shoulders, his giggles starting out soft and adorable before growing loud.

His laughter was infectious. So much so that you found yourself resting your forehead on his shoulder, cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so harshly. The longer that you sat on his lap, a dull ache settled in your knees, but there was nothing in this world that was going to make you leave his arms, the very ones that were wrapped around you with one of his hands cradling the back of your head. He held you just tight enough to reassure you that he was in fact here and holding you, that this wasn’t just another hopeful dream.

“Are you okay?” He said, his voice light with his giggles.

Nodding, you leaned backwards to look at him, eyes smiling as bright as his smile. “I’m fine,” you reassured, stealing a glance behind you to make sure that you didn’t hit the steering wheel as you shifted on his lap.

 His soft pink lips were darker and his hair was disheveled from your fingers. Reaching you, you gently fixed the messed up looks, missing the way that his laughter turned to only the occasional giggle, his face softening as he gazed at you. Before you could remove your hand, Hoseok was taking it in his, fingers automatically lacing together with yours as he bumped his forehead against yours.

You closed your eyes at the connection, catching the faintest scent of crisp apples attached to his clothing. It was fresh, yet reminded you of his shop at the same time. He must have come straight to your apartment from working on a client.

Inside your chest, your heart didn’t race, instead it slowed down, comfortably beating as his nose softly brushed against yours. As much as you had missed the passion and his kisses, out of everything, it was the simplest of innocent touches, his familiar presence that you craved and missed so dearly. He had a way about himself that was able to turn the mood up to a hundred, and carefully bring it back to normal.

“How about we leave this car,” Hoseok murmured, his palms resting on the small of your back. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather spend our little vacation inside the house.”

As perfect as this moment was, he was right. The ache in your knees had grown along with a minor fear that if the two of you kept this going in the driver’s seat, that you would once again be getting a rude greeting from the car horn.

Lifting your forehead off his, you raised an eyebrow at him. “Anywhere in particular inside?”

The corner of his lips twitched again, bringing back his smile at full force. “Wherever you want to be.”

A scoff left you too easily. Pushing off of him, you undid the lock and with his hands steadying you, got out of the car and headed in the direction of his front door. A summer breeze kissed at your heated body, the leaves from the trees shaking from up above as small lights blinked in and out around the yard like miniature falling stars. It had been awhile since you last saw fireflies. They were childhood memories and nostalgia that had you diverting from the original plan of going inside, content with staying out for a little while longer.

When a pair of arms wrapped around your frame and hands settled on your hips, Hoseok’s head leaning against yours, it was easy to picture this moment happening over and over again every summer. While it was a little shocking how easy it was to imagine, nothing felt more right than this. Maybe not always right in this spot, but by his side was where it felt perfect. Where it felt natural.

Lips nibbling at your neck had your eyes closing, easily leaning against his body as you were brought back to reality.

“Didn’t know you were into public stuff,” Hoseok teased, sucking at a particular spot on your neck that had you gasping. “I’m not sure how my neighbors will feel about that though.”

You swatted at his thigh, feeling his lips curve upwards before he pressed himself completely against your backside, allowing you to feel every inch and curve of his body. Shifting in his embrace, your eyes widened upon feeling something else pressing against your ass. One that brought back more mildly more recent memories and weren’t childhood friendly, saliva building up and forcing you to swallow.

“Maybe…maybe we should go inside.” you suggested, voice barely above a whisper as you tried to remain calm, taking a shaky breath despite wanting nothing else but to continue.

Hoseok hummed against your neck, leaving one last kiss. Straightening up, he winked and tapped your ass, leaving a hand on your lower back to guide you to the house, all as if he wasn’t walking around with an erection or that he had riled you up. Like this was normal for him.

It only took seconds.

Fifteen seconds to get inside his house. Ten seconds to kick your shoes onto the shoe rack he had, and only five seconds for Hoseok to spin you around and bring you close enough for him to kiss. Like in the car, the lust was quickly ignited once more as you tried to keep up with him, wanting to taste and feel more of him. You wanted him, in every which way possible, to the point where it was an overflowing pot, and yet, even then it wouldn’t be enough.

You would never be able to get enough of the man that was Lee Hoseok.

With an ease that still surprised you, Hoseok gripped your waist and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, making you wrap your legs around his hips to bring you closer. Once he had you like he wanted, he secured his arms around you and carried you away all while keeping the kiss going.

He walked with a clear destination and kissed like he was the devil coming to collect his debt, personally bringing you to Hell’s gates where you knew that only his touch would run hotter than its fires.

A chill erupted along your spine as blankets and pillows gently encompassed your body, only then did the kiss break, chest heaving as you tried to look around the room, but when he nibbled on your shoulder it was game over. You moaned, taking a moment to indulge in the feeling before reaching up to push his leather jacket off. He barely removed himself from you to take off his favorite clothing piece, but he tugged it off and only ended up lightly biting your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Sorry love,” Hoseok murmured, kissing that spot oh so gently that it questioned whether or not his lips had actually touched the skin.

“It’s fine,” you chuckled, tilting your head to kiss him once again.

When Hoseok kissed you for the first time it was after your sixth date. At first you had thought it was strange that he would wait so long for a kiss that most people gave out after a second or third date, but he had never been one to rush things, and by taking his time, it had made that first time all that more special. They had been addicting back then, and as he took you to Paris in the comfort of his room, you found yourself never wanting to stop.

Shirts were quickly discarded and you managed to get Hoseok on his back, taking the advantage of straddling his waist to leave your own love bites around his neck, kissing your way down his sternum, feeling each and every shaking breath that he took before hearing his groans.

A black and grey scale of a lion took up the majority of his chest, strands of its mane peaking up onto his shoulders and the base of his neck that always teased you when he wore a shirt. Due to how large the piece was, the mane covered his pecs, practically hiding the silver bars of his nipple piercings. A dare he had gotten back in his younger years. When he told you that story it was always with a smile. Free piercings and jewelry, I just had to prove I had the balls to go through with it.

A deep moan sounded from above when you kissed his nipple, the metallic taste of the piercing lingering on your tongue, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to grind himself into you. It only succeeded in sending the fire that was boiling straight to your heart, your nails raking down his sides and causing him to flinch at the sensation.

“We can tease the fuck out of each other later,” Hoseok groaned, undoing the button of your shorts with quick movements. “I’ve missed you too much to wait any longer.”

As much as you enjoyed worshiping every curve and groove from his muscles, he was right. Releasing his piercing, you leaned back up to steal a kiss that he readily accepted. His palms trailed up your body, almost wrapping around you as he rolled you on your back and slipping between your lower half.

Breaking the kiss, Hoseok messily kissed down the valley of your breasts, his fingers making quick work of removing the offending shorts off your legs and tossing them to the floor without a care to where they landed. The bra didn’t last much longer. Once your breasts were free, he descended on the left one, sucking and licking the nipple as he fondled the other, forcing a gasp from you as you felt your underwear grow damp.

The blankets were bunched up and shifting towards the edge of the bed, and when he suddenly let go of your breast, the air in the room suddenly too cold as it made contact with the wet mess he left, you let go of the blankets and chose to hold on to his shoulders when he latched on the right nipple. As if not wanting to let it feel left out, he ran his thumb over the saliva he left, spreading it over your boob.

“Hoseok,” you whined, back arching off the pillow.

He hummed around your breast, lips curling up until he released you with a satisfied grin as the corners of his eyes crinkled.

“Sorry love,” he murmured, messily kissing you again. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Take off your pants if you’re so sorry,” you said, raising a leg to push at the jeans that clung to his body.

“Gladly.”

Pushing himself up, his black bangs fell in his face as he worked on removing his pants, the belt clattering against itself as it fell to the floor.

Wetting your lips, you watched, unabashedly drinking in the way your boyfriend had built himself up from all the late night and early morning workouts he did at the gym, even occasionally slipping one in during the middle of the day. All his hard work and protein shakes had paid off, even with his odd obsession with eating ramen at random times.

However, as he went to push them down, you quickly leaned forward to trace the black cursive letters that were tattooed near his abs and v-line, right above the band of his jeans. He didn’t have this the last time you two had sex, and there was no memory of him mentioning getting another tattoo.

“Monsta…X?” You read aloud, glancing up at him.

His smile widened but he didn’t speak, settling for only raising a single eyebrow.

Of all the things he could have gotten inked onto his body, this was perhaps the strangest. Usually he only got tattoos that were important to him. The lion on his chest was symbolic to protecting those he loved. His entire upper left arm was a nightlife scene with bright colors of Seoul, South Korea to represent his home country, and underneath that on his forearm was a small bouquet of yellow daffodils that appeared as if the flowers had grown right out of his wrist, they were so realistic.

Everything had a meaning, so what was so important that he had to get those words tattooed? Especially in a spot that made it impossible to not steal a glance at his…

“You named your dick Monsta X?” You gasped; eyes wide as his body shook with his laughter. “Why?”

“Why not?” He giggled, continuing to remove his pants.

Your mouth opened and closed repetitively, but a slow grin overtook your face and you shook your head, just as amused if not even more than Hoseok was. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“I mean…” Tossing his pants away, he winked as he reached over to the nightstand drawer and pulled out a foil, setting it on the bed next to you as he sat on his knees, his thigh muscles stealing your attention briefly when they flexed, the bulge in his briefs almost straining against the fabric. “You always call it that anyway.”

The sudden laugh was ripped from your throat and you hurried to cover your mouth with your palm. If it weren’t for the fact that he was grinning – his eyes met yours for a moment and his smile softened, almost daring to dip into shy territory before he cleared his throat - and you knew that he had a sense of humor, you would have been trying to fix what you said. Besides, it wasn’t like he was wrong either, it had just been the last thing you expected him to say.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” Hoseok said, still amused while lifting your legs together in one hand as he removed your damp panties with the other, tossing them like a basketball towards the door despite your halfhearted protests. He quickly discarded his own pair without a second thought and after rolling on the condom, with no warning whatsoever he tugged on your legs to bring you closer to him and in-between you once more.

Leaning down, he captured your lips in another kiss. This one, unlike the others, was slower, more sensual as he took the time. Despite the heated impromptu make out session in the car, it still felt like forever since the two of you had last been together. Not just intimately, but in the simplest, and loving ways.

When the kiss finally broke, there were a few beats where the world seemed to stop turning as you gazed at each other. Even though it had only been six, glorious, months with Hoseok, the thought of it one day coming to an end was nonexistent. With him, it felt like you were right where you belonged.

He stole another kiss, then a second, but could one even call it stealing when you’re just as eager to kiss him? As the kisses continued, fingers trailed down your hip and thigh, feeling it grip your leg and moving it around his hip before repeating it with the other.

The night was long, but as the sheets twisted in your grip, you knew it was going to be everything and then some.

Shifting against the sheets, you pressed your face further into the warm pillow, the blankets tucked around your body, ensuring that at no point would the chilled air reach you. Not wanting to move around too much, you stretched a hand out to the side, hoping that Hoseok would feel you moving around and pull you close. He always ran warmer than you, even going so far and to tease about you using him as your own personal heater.

Instead, your fingers wrapped around cold sheets.

The difference in temperature had you yanking your hand back to the safety of the warm cocoon you were wrapped up in as you tilted your head. Blinking, you saw that the side where Hoseok should have been, was neatly made up, with only a single wrinkle from when you tried to feel around for him.

“Hoseok?” you said, wondering if he was even still in the house.

He had promised that this weekend was for the two of you with no interference from anyone. Including work and school. Holding the blankets to your chest, you took your sweet time sitting up. The sunlight that was streaming in through the blinds and decently sheer curtains blinded you for a few seconds, forcing you to tilt your head away from the window. Although in only a short time were your shoulders relaxing as the sunlight warmed the bare skin.

Now that you were up, you were able to see that the floor had been cleaned up from last night’s reunion, the clothes that neither of you had gave a damn about where now in the hamper by the bedroom door, and your purse and backpack were sitting on the leather desk chair with a red silk robe folded over the back. It was the exact opposite from the night before. The only exception was the missing Hoseok.

Yawning, you ran a hand through your hair, recalling the way that Hoseok had brushed the locks away from your face to kiss you. The corner of your lips curled upwards, and you had started to lay back down on the bed, the warmth of the blankets coaxing and teasing the possibility of a few more hours of sleep, you spotted a piece of paper on his pillow.

It was folded in half with your name written carefully on it with a heart, bringing a smile to your face before you had even read it.

Morning love, I promise I didn’t sneak off to work while you slept. I told you that nothing work related would interfere with our weekend, and I’m keeping it that way. So you’re probably wondering where the hell I am then. Don’t worry, I just went to the gym nearby for my morning workout. I should be back by noon, unless you’re still asleep by the time I return, then this letter will be pointless.

Either way, I’ll see you soon.

Always,

Your Muscle Bunny.

Despite the fact that he was still gone, a grin appeared and you were pressing your face into the pillow, still holding onto the letter as muffled giggles filled the room. He was never going to let you live that down, but even then, it was so true.

Hoseok was without a doubt jacked up and he took the time to research, spending hours understanding the muscles that he wanted to work on and finding the best exercises to achieve that. Making protein shakes in bulk. There had been many conversations where you’d ask and he’d go on and explain it all to you. At times it made you wonder why he never became a doctor.

But then there were those moments – the rare times the two of you managed to find time together – and he’d be the one tugging you closer for cuddles, sometimes laying on top of you with his head resting on your chest while watching a movie and playing with his hair. When it was hard to find time to meet up for dates, instead of going home to your roommates, you found love letters addressed from him, each one handwritten asking how you were and catching you up on his life. They were personal, each one containing a faint whiff of his cologne, sometimes little mementos that he thought you might enjoy, a slip of poetry or even ones he created himself. Every one you received was carefully placed in a box that you kept on your dresser, more often than not rereading them when all-nighters were the only way to get work done.

He was buff and strong, but at the same time he was soft and didn’t care who knew.

A true muscle bunny.

Rolling over on the bed, you set the note on the nightstand, making a mental note to save it for the memory box when you got back home. The clock had revealed that it was only eleven in the morning as you got out of the bed, quickly nabbing and covering yourself with the robe before going anywhere else.

Without having Hoseok home, the place was quiet as your footsteps papped against the wood floor when you went down the hallway to the bathroom. If he was at the gym then he’d be hightailing it to the shower, unless he wanted to be mean and give a sweaty hug, and you wanted to take advantage of the hot water before he got back. Living with a group of undergrads to try and save money had come with many pros and cons, but the true loss had been the long hot showers you treasured. It was a luxury if you were able to snag fifteen minutes without someone banging on the door.

The fact that he had written out a note instead of sending a text kept the smile floating as the water heated up, your favorite playlist playing loud enough to be heard from down the hall. It was the little things that he did that made you wonder if it was right to tell him those three special words. Since the two of you started dating, it was impossible to imagine yourself with anyone else, and while you didn’t want to jump the wagon and declare that you were ready for marriage, being able to say I love you and hear him tell it back to you, sent butterflies dancing in your stomach.

Reaching in to check the water, you hung the robe on the hook, glancing at your reflection in the mirror. Purple hickeys dotted all over your body, primarily centering around your breasts and neck. Unable to help yourself, you stepped closer to the mirror as you let down your hair, tracing the shape of the marks that he had left out of love last night.

When you thought back on it, he had been so focused on your breasts, his hands remained on either your hips or your face, tilting you constantly so that he could kiss you in whatever position he put you in. But never once had they touched your stomach. Eyes falling to your torso, the lack of any curves had you biting the insides of your mouth, ignoring the dulled pain as you swiped away the fog that had gathered on the mirror.

At least, you thought they had been out of love.

There were no curves. It was just a square. You were just a square. No wonder Hoseok had ignored your stomach last night. He was constantly working out and even with his abs and broad shoulders, his waist still had the slightest curve that was obvious when he wore tight shirts, giving his body the appearance of an upside-down triangle. He put in the time and effort for his muscles and here you were, just a square.

Your workout routine? The most of a workout that you got involved walking on campus to get to each class and then your car for home or work. You couldn’t remember the last time you had carved out a set amount of time to go to the gym or do a home workout. There was barely any time to yourself.

The hot water raining down on you was a momentary distraction from the thoughts swirling around. It only lasted a few short minutes. Like wildfire, they ignited memories and beliefs that you swore you had locked up and burnt to ash years ago. Especially when you have been doing so well recently.

Numbers of a scale rapidly spin each time you stand on it. The black and white numbers playing wheel of fortune as they decide your fate for the night. Did you lose? Or did you gain? The cards were always held by the ringmaster that was the small scale and whether or not they were what you originally wanted; they were never good enough when they were finally dealt out.

It was never enough. Never good enough. You always had to push it and even then, it wasn’t enough. The image you saw in the mirror convinced you to take smaller portions of meals, pushing the hours in-between meals before suddenly cutting off eating after a certain time, because the way your stomach twisted in pain and begged for some sort of substance had you convinced that it was working.

Days. Weeks. You’d be so good at keeping up with it, but there was always a hiccup that sent you plummeting in a spiral. It could be a snack, a small cherry tomato or even a cracker, and the next thing you knew all the containers were on the counter as you shoved whatever you could down your throat without a care in the word. Even then it wouldn’t be enough. It was never enough. You’d be eating, but your stomach would feel like a bottomless pit because you were so hungry. Hungry to the point that you wouldn’t be able to recall what the food you ate tasted like.

Then the scale would be mocking you all over again.

Leaning backwards against the wall, the water from the showerhead made it impossible to distinguish between the tears sliding down your face. You just pressed your lips together, just staring at the floral shower curtain that was hanging up, the shampoo bubbles sitting in your hair as you remained still.

You have been doing so good lately. The past hadn’t even been lingering thought and when Hoseok entered your life, everything just seemed to be falling in place.

Yet here you were, standing in the shower with water that was steaming but you felt nothing, rehashing old thoughts that were crawling their way through any empty space that was available. The tiniest crack of an opening was all they needed to enter uninvited.

He didn’t know about this. Hoseok. You had been so good with eating, no longer cutting back or bingeing that it never crossed your mind to tell him. But as you moved under the water to rinse out the suds, your fingers grazed the hickies he had left in his place. All over your chest and neck. Avoiding your stomach. Your thighs were barely even grazed. Everywhere but your stomach.

He knows, you thought, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes, gasps and whimpers filling the bathroom but drowned out by the music as you cried. There was no other way to explain it. He saw what you used to see, what you still see. The square. Nothing more than a body with rolls that hung on you. It was a miracle he was able to still have sex with you last night. How could he be with someone like you when it was so obvious that he put effort into maintaining his own body.

Body on autopilot, your hands went through the motions of washing out your hair and then applying conditioner while your mind detached itself from the mundane task at hand. The idea of him seeing you like this, with no shape at all, what you considered to be a square...no. A square was too nice of a term. You were not a square. A glance through the opening of the curtain let you see your reflection in the mirror, and your eyes watered up once again. Not a square, you thought. A blob. A fat, overweight blob, taking up his time and space.

Twisting your hair, you stared at the locks as water poured out before abruptly shutting it off, fingers gripping the handle that controlled the temperature as you pressed your free palm against the wall. The bathroom was like a sauna. Even after with the water shut off, the room was hotter than hell.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to push away those thoughts. They were leeches clinging to the inside of your mind and no matter how much you pulled, they weren't coming off. In a daze you manage to straighten up and get out of the shower, wrap a towel around yourself and hair, all while biting down on the inside of your cheeks in an attempt to push them away. When you looked up however, the smear mark from when you wiped the fog off the mirror was still there, allowing you glimpses at yourself. For a split second you saw bloodshot eyes stared back and purple hickeys staring at you, but you looked down towards the floor to hurry out of the room, unable to push those thoughts and images away.

That’s because it’s you.

That blob is you.

It’s you.

Last night was wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect even. But now all you could think about was how Hoseok had avoided certain areas of you on purpose. That perhaps, he didn’t think you were as beautiful as he thought.

You didn’t recall changing. One second you were entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel and the next when you looked down to grip the fabric tighter, you were dressed in one of his black t-shirts and a pair of panties you had packed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel fell from your fingertips and in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep you from floating away, you slid them over your face and into your hair, twisting and gripping the locks until there was a hard ache on the side of your scalp.

“Go away,” you softly whispered, tugging a little hard to make those pesky leeches leave you. “Please go away. Please”

They needed to go. Disappear. It didn’t matter if you had to burn them to a crisp and leave behind a permanent scar. You just needed them to go away, because spiraling was not an option. Not again.

The house was silent when Hoseok arrived, his keys jangling together until he closed his fist around them, making him wonder if perhaps you were still asleep. A small smile formed as he quietly toed his shoes off, the first destination in his mind was to go to the bedroom and see if you were there.

Last night, neither of you had gone to sleep, or truly slept, until dawn had begun to peep through the curtains – because apparently the night didn’t last forever like the two of you had thought. A fault that was perhaps all on him and he should have known better. He was supposed to be older, wiser, more experienced, but how people liked to forget that he was still a man only in his twenties. Just…later in them.

But as he neared the bedroom, he remembered full well how you had wrapped your limbs around him, coaxing him back for more, kissing him not only on his lips but in everyplace where his skin wasn’t dotted with purple love marks from you.

Since he wore tank tops to work out in, the marks had certainly left an impression on the guys at the gym, receiving more head nods and grins than usual. The older man at the jewelry store however, had been less impressed. Then again, that could also be because Hoseok had gone straight there after working out, skipping out on his shower to pick up his order before the store closed for the day.

Not exactly the best decision that he’s made in life so far.

Carefully pushing open the bedroom door, his smile softened upon seeing you curled up on the bed. Not wanting to disturb you, he quietly set the box on his nightstand and left the room, going straight for the bathroom to shower.

As much as he would have loved to tease you, you didn’t deserve waking up to him smelling like dried sweat.

However, he frowned upon seeing the floor mats placed on the floor and condensation covering the mirror, droplets of water covering the entire surface of the bathroom. He turned to look down the hall, but he couldn’t hear any movements or your voice calling out his name.

Maybe she was still tired even after showering, Hoseok thought, shrugging it off as he shut the door behind him, hoping you hadn’t used up all the hot water.

Water dripped from his hair as he entered the bedroom, the towel tightly tied around his hips and confirming every single imagination and daydream. A glance over at your body revealed that you hadn’t moved at all in the time that he was gone.

Smirking, he kneeled on the bed, moving until he was behind you, pressing a hand on the mattress in front of you to maintain his balance while he leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Wake up love,” Hoseok murmured, dragging out the kisses as he took his sweet time in trailing them up to your jawline, last night once again reclaiming his mind. It was a joke to even consider that it had left in the first place.

He wasn’t going to lie and say that he hadn’t missed the sex when the two of you were apart more often than not, sex was great, amazing, otherworldly and even more with you. But that wasn’t even number one on his list. More often than not, he missed being able to sling an arm around your shoulders or waist to bring you in for a hug. The way that your fingers would run through his hair when you thought he was asleep, and the way your eyes always lit up when you talked about something that happened in your classes. Or when you would bump his leg with your foot to ask him about a word that was just on the tip of your tongue, but just conveniently out of reach at that second. It was always a simple word, but the way you exaggerated your arm motions while trying to describe it were fascinating to him.

Hoseok missed you.

Feeling you shift underneath him, his lips curled into a smile as he lifted his head, prepared to give you a kiss that you deserved, only for that mindset to suddenly change when he saw your watery eyes.

That was not how you normally woke up.

The last time he had seen you crying after waking up was when you had gotten your period in the middle of night. It had been a week early and the cramps came out of nowhere, leaving him clueless with what to do but willing to do anything to help ease the pain. Which meant a late-night run to the twenty-four hour convenience store, looking at a picture of the brand of pads you used on his phone, along with buying your favorite flavor of Ben and Jerry’s ice-cream and the big bottle of Advil.

He already had a heating pad at home for days when he overworked himself and his muscles got sore. Before leaving for the convenience store, he had set it up for you.

“What’s wrong love?” Hoseok asked, shifting so that his weight was on his left hand behind your back, hovering over your body to try and see your face better.

Before he could do it for you, you were quickly wiping your face with the heels of your palms. “Nothing,” you hurried to say, moving to sit up with the mindset of rushing out of the bedroom to make a run for the bathroom, hoping he would believe that it was a simple eyelash in your eye.

But he was too quick for you, his hand gently capturing your wrists and moving them down as he cupped your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Baby, it’s not nothing. What happened while I was gone?”

Sniffling, you shook your head. No. Why would you point out the obvious? He knew what you looked like. He saw. So why was he playing this game with you?

He sighed at your stubbornness, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up. Not caring if he got the blankets and sheets wet, he settled down beside you and slipped an arm underneath your body to roll you over and into his embrace where he securely wrapped his other arm over you. Once you were nestled in, Hoseok rested his chin on top of your head, drawing a lazy shape on your back, patiently waiting for the moment that you found your voice again.

The second Hoseok hugged you, the back of your eyes burned and you tightly squeezed them shut, not wanting to see anything, an old way to tell yourself that if you couldn’t see, then you wouldn’t have to see what was being reflected back at you.

But wrapped up in Hoseok’s arms, with his heart beating like a sweet lullaby, arms strong enough to fight off anyone who tried to hurt you, even he was unable to find and protect you from the leeches that forced you down the path that was littered with the broken glass and bloodstains that was your past.

His heart broke at the sound of your cries echoing in the bedroom, feeling the tears slide down his chest as he rubbed your shaking body. There was nothing he could do or say to make you feel better until he understood what was happening. All he could do was be here to hold you until you were ready.

Time passed by slowly, but at some point, the tears began to dry up, and the gasps for air had calmed down, allowing you to be able to breathe normally again. The only time you had physically moved was to cling to Hoseok, despite not wanting to tell him what was swirling around in your mind, you didn’t want him to leave you.

A blob.

You’re just a fat blob.

Do you really need to eat lunch today?

“Make it stop,” you whimpered, fingers clenching on the pillow behind Hoseok as your fist dug into his back.

His body jerked at the new bump but he ignored that, choosing to focus on what you were saying. You didn’t know it, but the entire time you had been crying, tears had fallen silently down his cheeks as he watched them fall into your hair. He hated seeing you in pain.

“Make what stop love?” He softly asked, moving a hand to be able to stroke your cheek.

“My mind,” you cried, not yelling, but your voice cracked as the emotions swirling inside you forced it to raise. “Please, make it stop. Shut it off, anything, please.  Please, make it stop!”

If the world was to crash down around him, Hoseok knew that it would only take seconds, or even minutes, for it to crash and end him. Six months ago, you had agreed to go on a blind date set up by a friend of yours who had gotten a tattoo done by Hoseok. It had been a spur of the moment, neither of you really searching for anyone, but the thought of being in the company of another person instead of alone had tempted both of you enough to say yes.

Six months ago, you became his entire world and here you were, crashing around him, begging for him to stop whatever it was that was going on in your mind. Something that he had no feasible solution for. If he knew how to fight the demons that only you were able to see, he’d do it in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t, and knowing that, had him feeling like he was failing you in every possible way imaginable.

Gently, Hoseok shifted your body and moved you next to him on the bed, and when you tried to look away, he cupped the side of your face with a tilt in his direction. There was no avoiding in seeing the pools of tears building up and over his eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong love,” he whispered, stroking your cheek once more. “You’re scaring me, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this.”

God, he was hurting. You hadn’t expected him to react in such a way.

Lie. Tell him you’re fine. He’ll believe it if you believe it.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

Wetting your lips, you repeatedly opened and closed them, feeling like a damned fish unable to breathe and in search of water. Instead of suffocating, you were drowning.

“I…”

An ache built up in your stomach, reminding you that you truly hadn’t eaten anything since last night. Twisting and curling, the sharpness of running on empty was the cold kiss from a toxic lover. Memories of binging on food after midnight cuddled you from behind, weighing you down with iron shackles locked around your stomach.

“I…”

Skip lunch, eat a little bit of dinner so he won’t worry.

Tell him that you’re fine.

“Please love,” Hoseok begged, his fingers smoothing back locks of hair that had begun to fall in your face. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me. You don’t need to carry this by yourself.”

Lie dammit.

“I’m starving,” you whispered, watching his eyebrows pull together, fingers pausing on your skin but you reached up with a shaky hand to cover his, gripping tightly. “It hurts. So much Hoseok, but I don’t want to eat. I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”

The leeches were shrieking in your mind, white tips of a burning fire were touching them and they were dropping to the ground, yet the fire didn’t hurt one bit. For the first time in so long, the shackles of your secret came undone allowing you to step away from the broken path you had set yourself on.

Hoseok had turned his hand to run his thumb across your knuckles, the realization of what you meant hitting him. Eyes watering up, he opened his mouth to speak, only there were no words that felt right. You were hurting so much right now, the last thing he wanted to do was say the wrong thing without meaning to.

But like a dam that had suddenly burst, the words that he couldn’t find, were flooding out of your mouth. “I…I was so good, better than I have been in years, but last night and this morning, it was one thing after another and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop my mind from going there and it was all I could think about and I…I don’t want to think like that anymore. I don’t wanna be that person anymore.”

“Last night,” Hoseok softly repeated. What had he done the night before, a night that he had thought was so perfect, that was able to nearly cripple you this morning? The idea that he hurt you without even knowing it made him clench down on the inside of his cheeks.

You shook your head, knowing that you weren’t saying it right, implying that it had been his fault when it hadn’t. “While you were gone, I was showering and I…it’s so fucking stupid, but I saw my reflection and your note saying you were at the gym I just, I just started comparing myself to you. You’re always working out, doing what you can to stay fit and it was like years of self-hatred suddenly came back, reminding me of how gross I was, how fat I am and I couldn’t stop it…it was like once it came back it wasn’t going to leave and I – ”

Except you didn’t get to finish. Between the tears once again clogging your throat and Hoseok yanking you back to his chest, his shoulders shaking as he started crying because there was no way in hell he was able to hold it in anymore. The words died off, but you both knew where it was heading.

The fabric of his shirt that you wore wrinkled under his hands, the soft fabric of the towel that he wore grazed your legs. How it hadn’t managed to come undone from all the moving around was a tiny thought that stuck inside your brain.

“Don’t.” Hoseok’s arms tightened around you, almost painfully, but his grip was in only one arm as the mattress dipped underneath your bodies, and the next thing you knew he was pulling you to sit on his lap as he sat up with his back against the headboard. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks flushed. There wasn’t a time where you recalled being able to compare his eyes to an ocean. Not until now at least.

His chest was heaving as he leaned his head back against the wood with a soft thump, bottom lip trembling while trying to form together something to say. Words. He needed words. “I…you never…not once did you say anything to me.”

“Because I was good when we met,” you cried. “I hadn’t been doing anything, and I’ve been so good this entire time, but this morning it was like…like I was suddenly drowning in it because it’s always been like this, always coming in waves. And I wanted to start it all over again.”

Despite how much it hurt, how hungry it made you, there was that painful satisfaction of seeing the numbers go down on that evil scale. To be able to wear the clothes that you never could before. The way your stomach aches and cries out at one, two in the morning yet you deny it the simplest thing it wanted, because for a period of time, you were the one in charge. You had control over what was happening in your life and it…it was fucking addicting.

“But you’re already so small.”

The tears had slowed down, always slipping down his cheeks faster when he thought of how long you’ve been hurting, and he had never known.

Bottom lip trembling, somehow, you managed the weakest of smiles, voice cracking as you spoke. “I know.”

You always had been, but the reflection you saw in the mirror, never was real. For years you were purging yourself of a you that never once existed.

The person that Hoseok saw when you thought he wasn’t looking, the one who gently swayed to her favorite music, who had a love affair with words and their meanings but more often than not forgot them. The woman he saw who, on their third date hurried him over to the park to watch the fireflies dance in the night sky because they were the only type of bugs that you liked, and the woman who he reached out for when waking up first thing in the morning even if he hadn’t spent the night at your apartment, was not the same one that you saw.

You saw a version of yourself that you hated, so much so that the only way you would be happy with your reflection, was to destroy yourself.

Instead of speaking, Hoseok simply hugged you tightly to him, resting his head against yours as he felt you curl yourself around him. To say that this wasn’t how he had pictured this morning to go was a mild statement, but as he left a gentle kiss on your shoulder, he simply wanted to love you, and show you what it was like to be loved.

Time ticked by slowly, but when Hoseok finally lifted his head off yours, the tears had stopped falling leaving his eyes itchy and dry. He barely glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Instead, his gaze went to the black jewelry box he had set there. With everything that’s happened, he forgot that he had even picked it up.

“It’s – it’s not my place to tell you what to think,” he softly said, reaching over to retrieve the box. He felt you shifting and knew that you were watching him, a glance at you showed the curious frown you wore. “But I think you’re wrong. To me, you’re not gross. You’re not overweight. Ever since that blind date, six months ago, you’re the only woman who I care about.”

Without any ceremony, he held the box out for you to take, gently smiling and nodding when you looked up at him as if to ask if it really was for you.

Carefully, you opened the lid, feeling your heart nearly collapse at the sight of the necklace that delicately laid a bronze gold heart on the white fabric. On the side sat a tiny firefly, and in the center in elegant cursive read, ‘You’re the reason why my heart beats.’

“I love you,” Hoseok finally confessed. Lifting a hand, he brushed the hair back out of your face, his fingers gently grazing your cheek as he did so. “All I want is for you to be happy, love. You mean the world to me, and I want to help you through this. To me, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but now that I know that’s not what you see, then I’ll help you. So that one day, you might be able to see what I see. Whenever that may be.”

His image blurred once more. Instead of hiding your face from him, or wanting to get away in general, you reached up to pull him down for a kiss despite the tears. Each one was short and sweet, but like an addiction, you kept going back for just one more.

Even if he didn’t understand it completely, or maybe he did, but he was willing to learn to help, because that wasn’t a life you wanted anymore. You just…you just didn’t know what to do, or how to do it by yourself. Not when those leeches were able to corrupt such an amazing night in seconds.

Hoseok wasn’t one to break away from a kiss but this time, he leaned back to take the necklace from you, undoing the clasp and hooking it on for you. The heart rested right in the middle of your chest. Right where it belonged.

“Now, I know I promised to not bring home any work,” Hoseok said, gently wiping away a few stray tears on your cheek. “But I remember you talking about getting that tattoo done one day. If you want, I can do it for you.”

“I never decided where though.”

His eyes softened. “I heard someone talking about this thing called the butterfly project. The idea is to draw a butterfly in the place where you’d hurt yourself, and by having it there, it’s supposed to help stop those urges. Maybe…maybe we can do something like that.”

The room fell silent.

You had been wanting to get your fireflies tattooed for years now. They were a favorite reminder of a simpler time. When the world was kind and beautiful and not harsh like you had painfully learned it to be. Sitting here with Hoseok, he served as the reminder that despite the hurt, there was always hope nearby. Whether it was from him, the world, or even deep within yourself.

Hope and love had a funny way of coming together in the darkest hours of our lives.

The tattoo gun buzzed loudly in the kitchen.

Hoseok pressed his lips together, eyebrows pulling in concentration as his gloved hands skillfully moved the machine while he began the process of outlining the cluster of fireflies on your thigh. When this was all over, there would be fireflies flying around at dusk on your body forever.

It was something you loved, in a spot that you passionately disliked, but even now you smiled. Because how could you look at something you loved with hatred?

None of this was going to be easy. Gazing at Hoseok, a small smile appeared. Perhaps he felt your gaze on him, but as he lifted the gun to wipe the area, he glanced up at you. A soft smile instantly appeared.

This wasn’t going to suddenly fix things. That was far from the truth. But that was okay because in reality, that was life. There was the good, the bad, and everything in between that got thrown at you.

Life isn’t perfect, but with Hoseok…it felt like it was.

[fibrowarriorgirl]

Toxic positivity & chronic illness

This post is aimed mainly for the people who aren't chronically ill themselves, but for those who know someone dear to them is chronically ill. Although I think a lot of chronically ill peeps will be able to relate to this post.

"Stay positive." It's something that pretty much everyone hears in their life. In our darkest moments, we will always have someone telling us to be as happy as possible. Remember the last time you were upset, and someone told you something like this. How much did you appreciate this?

Sure, it can definitely help under certain circumstances. Let's say you failed a test at school. Your parents telling you "it's okay, better luck next time!" could actually cheer you up. But what if it wasn't just any test, but an important exam you failed. "Better luck next time!" is a lot less pleasing to hear. You failed your exam, you won't be able to go to your next year, all your friends did pass so you won't be in their class any more, and the next time you do the exam will be over a year from now. The phrase "better luck next time" sounds bitter more than anything. And definitely isn't appreciated.

We as humans often feel inclined to turn anything bad into something positive. It's a natural response. You see someone you love in pain, you want to be able to say something that will make it better. But we have to be realistic, there will be times when someone is in pain (physically, mentally or both), and there is nothing to say to make it better. And you trying to make it better, only makes it worse.

I've only had my fibromyalgia diagnosis for almost a month, but I've had episodic pain for over a year now and constant pain for almost 5 months now. Especially this last month has been rough with toxic positivity.

Receiving the fibromyalgia diagnosis was hard. At the time of being diagnosed, I didn't know too much about it. I had read about a few symptoms, but I honesty didn't think I could have it. So once I did some research, I was devastated with my diagnosis. And something I noticed, is that a lot of people were trying to help me by saying uplifting things.

"But Elke, what's so bad about that?" What bothered me the most, was that I wasn't even diagnosed for a week and people were telling me to cheer up. Telling me it could be worse, telling me what has helped them when they had pain once, it will get better, it will pass. And I always had the same response: "Let me be sad for a while."

I had just heard I had chronic pain. I have a very frustrating diagnosis. Doctors can't tell me what it is in my body that is causing all of my symptoms. There is no medication. I need mobility aids to get around. I will need a very intense form of rehabilitation. So yes, I was pretty depressed for a few days. The last thing I needed, was to hear it could be worse. I was grieving, grieving the life I once lived. I was in denial of the life I was forced to start living.

Maybe you're thinking that even though your positivity isn't welcome, but it can't hurt, right? Unfortunately, you're wrong. Being told that something could be worse, tells me I am bothering you, that my pain isn't severe enough to be upset about. Maybe that isn't your intention at all, but it is somewhat implied. We also internalise this way of thinking. I tell myself "it could be worse" so I can't feel bad. Even though my head can be pounding, my joints burning, with no energy in my body to do even the simplest of tasks, I'm still not allowing myself to feel bad. Because there is someone out there who has it worse.

Not only does this phrase negatively impact me, it impacts my surroundings. Let me take a friend of mine, who I will call Jane Doe for the sake of anonymity. Jane suffers from an undiagnosed eating disorder and body dysmorphia. And a few weeks ago, she told me she felt bad whenever she talked about her struggles with her body to me. "You're actually in constant pain, you have it so much worse." Do you know how heartbreaking it is to hear that? She is struggling with something I know can be so challenging. She is in (mental) pain, but "it could be worse." I am still here for Jane, I don't think of her pain as less or not as important as mine. I don't want her to feel like that.

Of course, there are many things chronically ill people are frequently told that do more damage than good. "I had pain here once, so I did x and y and it went away." We already tried x and y. We tried the whole alphabet. "It will pass." No, it's a chronic illness. It can get better, maybe. I could go on and on.

Discussing toxic positivity is awkward. Because I realise all of these things are said with love, with the intention to help, to put a smile on my face. So I don't want to point out that you're actually hurting me by saying this. I often will just smile and nod through it. And I get it, I really do. I too have done this in the past, I probably still do without even noticing. And I also understand that my loved ones also have to adapt to my new life. You don't get a handbook on how to deal with your chronically ill daughter/partner/friend/etc. So that's why I'm posting this, to educate.

Instagram account @unchartedmalady posted a quote a few days ago that inspired me to write this post. "We don't seek solutions or treatments from friends or family. That is what medical professionals are for. We want support, understanding and empathy." This perfectly describes how I feel about this.

I'm in pain, every day. Some days, I get a lot done. Maybe I'm in a little less pain, but that isn't necessarily the reason. I could be excited to do something, I could have rested a lot the days beforehand, maybe I just somehow woke up with more spoons than usual. There are also days where I am not able to do much. There are even days that I can only get out of bed to use the toilet. Maybe this is a really bad pain, but that also isn't necessarily the reason. I could have received bad news, I have just done something 'big' the days before and need to rest, maybe I just woke up with less spoons.

On my good days, I don't need much support. But on those bad days, I need you. And I don't need you to help me. I need to be able to tell you "today fucking sucks, this is why" and for you to listen. Seeing your loved one is in pain is uncomfortable, you will feel the need to say something positive to cheer them up. This might sound blunt, but learn to deal with that uncomfortable feeling. Some appropriate responses could be:

"Do you know what to do on days like this?"

"Have you been able to discuss this with (medical professional)?"

"I am here for you."

"I'm sorry you're going through this."

"Can I help you with anything?"

Something that I personally think is a great alternative to saying something positive is: "I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better." This acknowledges that you want to say something to help, but that you realise there is nothing you can say to help. And also, be honest if you don't know what to say. "That sounds awful, I genuinely don't know what to say." There is nothing wrong with being honest about that.

And to finish this post off, I am not here raging against everyone who has every said something 'toxically positive.' I am here educating about this. It's okay to make mistakes, especially if you didn't know about this. And maybe you will still make this mistake every now and again, that's okay. As long as you're trying. We're all human, we all make mistakes. If you're ever not completely sure how to handle a situation with your chronically ill loved one, please just ask (respectfully).

(Credit for image goes to uncharted malady on instagram. Click here to visit their profile)

[korezlee]

Ayo, TW// I talk about weight, body image, body dysmorphia, EATING DISORDERS

Im not gonna tag the SuperMega tag cause it’s a lot and it’s a “downer” lmao

•

•

•

•

WOOOO BOY I’ve been wanting to discuss or talk about this for awhile and I saw a mutual make a post about it so now I feel kind of safe and validated to talk about it too:

Ok so kinda off topic but this goes into what I have been thinking for a long time but IKKKkk ik comments under SuperMega videos when it’s live action mean well and don’t mean anything by it, but it’s always bothered me when people comment about Ryan losing weight.

Like at first it seems very light hearted and nothing too deep. It’s just a nice little “hey look Ryan lost weight! (Because he always brings up how he is self counscious about his body/weight etc.)

I relate to Ryan a lot and obviously many other people do to, I relate in the sense of not always being comfortable in one’s body and having some kind of body dysmorphia.

The thing is though, his weight fluctuations make me kind of concerned and I wonder if others follow behind that as well. Like ik it’s none of my business, I’m just a viewer and I only know as much as they (Matt and ryan) want their audience to see.

But putting two and two together makes me feel kinda icky.

Ik they’re human, and they’re not perfect, but the way they talk about food and eating sometimes makes me like... not want to listen to it them anymore lmao.

Like Ryan talking about not eating all day, (and Matt,) or trying something to lose weight is kind of triggering to me personally, and of course, it’s their YouTube channel, blah blah blah, I can choose to not watch them, but I think I just wanted to shed some light on it either way?? Idek I think it’s good to critique people you follow/look up to whether they want to be or not because their job is being on social media essentially, so I feel I can have a say and have an opinion on the matter.

I tend and have gone through weight flucations over the past... my whole life I guess, haha. Not just a few or several pounds, but I’ve been pretty plentiful in weight range. I wouldn’t say (nor have I been diagnosed with and eating disorder,) but I have relaizes recently that I have/had the tendencies of one.

I think sometimes they don’t realize that while yes talking about and venting about their struggles with food and body image and what not is valid, BUT it’s interesting because it seems like they don’t realize that how they’re talking about it is toxic? I don’t wanna say that because I have an obvious bias towards them, but it’s weird realization when you hear people talk about something and you’re like “do they not realize that’s like not good and they probably shouldn’t be talking about it that way?” But idk if that just my ego talking?

In essence, it just feels like they forget sometimes that while most of their audience are college students, a lot are teenagers too. (Not that college students can’t be affected as well, but they’re not are kids.)

Like... I’ve been watching them since I was 15, and my stupid little 15 year old brain hearing that stuff probably didn’t help with my issues as well too.

I’m not sure how I feel about this. On one hand I wanna be like “I’m being ridiculous and if I don’t like it then I should just stop watching it OR ignore it,” but on the other, I feel as if this goes deeper and is a fundamental flaw in them I suppose that unintentionally inflitrates into their young audience due to the normalization of diet culture and eating habits especially in America.

I don’t know if I have to go into examples of what I’m exactly talking about but I guess I mean this... *here’s a made up and simplified example of what I can recall just from memory*

Ryan: I hate my body

Matt: why you look great you’re not fat Ryan

Ryan: but I feel like I am and need to lose weight

Matt: but you’re not fat

Ryan: yeah but I still feel gross

Matt: but you’re not fat

*talks about not eating all day and then inevitably talks about losing weight in the same breathe, making the connection whether they had wanted to or not that not eating much obviously = weight lost. And then praising it.*

It just feels kinda not fucking good when it’s implied that being fat is gross or not good.

Like I feel bad listening to that shit cause I’ve gained weight back from losing it, and sometimes I think would they think I’m gross for gaining weight ya know?? And I think if a teenager who already probably has low self esteem hears that (or adult, using teenager because more impressionable,) it’s subtly telling their viewer that yes being fat is gross and not eating all day is admirable.

My rebuttable for this is my head are people saying “but Matt and Ryan usually say that they feel like shit and it ISN’T healthy.” Yes, they usually do joke and comment about their habits not being the best. I’m not saying they’re the end all be all role models for young people either, but I just think it’s something to note when they don’t explicitly say it’s bad, but it’s implied that it’s ok and normal.

I don’t necessarily blame SuperMega for not recognizing this or even really seeing a problem with these conversations, I do think it just shows how human and flawed they are and in a way trying to relate to those that have similar problems.

Again, I do know this problem goes wayyyy beyond them, and they are also part of out society where diet culture has been placed onto them and normalized.

Idk if anybody is reading this, but take it with some salt I suppose? Has anyone ever had this problem while watching and browsing their content? It’s something that I always think about but never talk avout because I feel bad for pointing out that Ryan’s weight loss is “bad,” because it’s none of my business. (The connection between that and how they discuss their eating habits and insecurities makes me think they are connected. I don’t want to say that it the CORRECT assumption to make, because I could and probably am wrong hopefully. I don’t want to come off as purely bashing to dude for wanting to look and feel better about himself.)

And if I do recall, I think I remember (I can’t remember if it was them,) saying that commenting on someone’s weight loss isn’t good because you don’t know how it was lost.

(I think I’m thinking of someone else I have no idea.)

Anyways, just trying to always looks at them in different lights instead of just praising them?? Yea lol.

Maybe I’m projecting my insecurities onto fucking YouTubers way too much but I do think that there are other people that would agree with me, but if not please let me know because I would interested to see those that think differently than me.

[theritualofourexistence]

[hyper]tension

There are so many things I could be writing about right now. 

I’ve chosen to stick with one of the things I know best for this post.

Did you guess “body image issues and the problem of narrowly defining the concept of health?” 

If so: a cookie for you! 

A handful of pictures popped up in my Timehop from 12 whole years ago that gave me pause the other day.

Sometimes when I see older pictures of myself I am overwhelmed by how different I look now... in a bad way. I see myself in those pictures as thin and beautiful and I see myself now as a sausage monster stuffed into bike shorts. 

The more I sit with and work on my body image issues, the more I have noticed healthier thinking habits developing. Let me be clear, this has been an incredibly slow process. But seeing those changes is something I am really encouraged by... and it makes the every day body image fight have some measurable value. 

I can say with confidence that, at 200 pounds, my body image is currently the best it has ever been.

That has nothing to do with the specific number on the scale and everything to do with working really hard over a lot of years to understand that neither “beauty” or “health” are inherently defined as “thin.” A fundamental pillar of that understanding is that you cannot separate mental health from the concept of general health. 

Mainstream culture does this. 

Mainstream culture wants you to believe that it’s your weight or your BMI that determines whether or not you are healthy.

That is bullshit. 

Here are the pictures of me from 12 years ago. We were moving my high school boyfriend into his freshman dorm for his first year of college. I don’t think any of the people in these photos will mind me sharing them in the context of this blog post. 

I am *THIN* in these pictures.

I am 17.

Apart from a very clear warning sign that I was already developing horrible posture, I noticed a couple of things right away about these pictures when I was looking at them the other day.

My shirt is a size small or extra small. 

I am holding my arm across my stomach in the fourth picture because I do not think I am *thin enough* to be wearing that shirt. 

I may have been a thin 17-year-old. But I was not healthy.

I was physically fit.

I played soccer for three out of four seasons of the year.

But I was not healthy.

I know I wasn’t healthy because I was about to embark on my senior year of high school during which I would, at times, only allow myself one and a half meals per day. Sometimes that one meal would be pasta. Other times that one meal would be a bag of dark chocolate peanut M&Ms and a Mountain Dew. Other times it would be a gallon of strawberries. Other times it would be a family pack of Twizzlers.

My body in those pictures might look healthy. 

But appearance is not an appropriate indicator of health. 

The two times in my adult life that I have been the thinnest have also been the times in my life where I have struggled the most with body image and disordered eating. 

After I escaped the abusive relationship of my freshman year of college, I gained around 20 pounds.

The following summer, I exercised for an hour every day and ate only pickles and Greek yogurt (separately, of course, don’t be gross). 

I lost 30 pounds.

That was also not healthy.

Fast forward a handful of years to 2015. 

I start an anti-depressant. 

Over the course of the next two years I gain around 50 pounds.

Today, in the spirit of full disclosure (and because the numbers don’t mean shit), my weight fluctuates between 190 and 200. 

I am obese.

A mathematical algorithm used to determine BMI has labeled me “obese.” 

My clothing sizes vary day to day thanks to IBS-related bloating but I’m somewhere around a 14-16. 

Do you know the cut-off for plus sizes? 

It’s 14. 

So, I am an obese, plus-sized woman.

The numbers aren’t very polite, are they?

Within the last two years I was diagnosed with severe iron-deficiency anemia.

I committed to correcting that with a number of lifestyle changes including taking supplements and adding iron-heavy foods to my diet. I took Vitamin C to boost my absorption. On days I took the supplement I had no coffee, no tea, no dairy, and no acid-reducer meds. In 6 very committed months, I resolved my iron issues, for the most part. We have since learned that the daily stomach medicine I take may be affecting my iron absorption so, although I am no longer taking supplements, I am taking a daily vitamin to help maintain a healthy level of iron. 

That story is about health.

I had a health issue and I developed a strategy to resolve the issue, being sure to consider my mental health as well. 

I have worked really, really hard to consider my HEALTH instead of my WEIGHT.

This obese, plus-sized woman exercises for around an hour every day. She does not drink alcohol or soda. She is aware of what she eats and is careful to eat when she’s hungry and stop when she’s full. 

One of the ways I know my thinking is healthier is that when I look at bathing suits on Target’s website, I have started to consider their plus-sized models “normal.” 

The average size of an American woman based on the most recent data is between sizes 18 and 20. 

I spent over twenty years unable to see an average-sized woman as beautiful.

Even though the clothing industry has labeled me “plus-sized,” if anything, I am “slightly less than average-sized.” 

In this post, I’m sure my thinking seems sort of piece-meal and disconnected.

In my head, thin-ness and health and body image and eating and exercise and cultural interpretations of beauty are all smashed into one big Frankenstein’s creation. 

For a long, long time I did not consider plus-sized or average-sized women to be beautiful solely because they were not thin.

When I was thin (and not healthy), I know that I considered people of that size, the average size, to be unhealthy.

I am at a point in my life where my habits are the healthiest they have been and my mental health regarding my body image is also the healthiest it has been.

And I weigh 200 pounds. 

You cannot look at a person and have any idea how healthy they are. 

You cannot look at a BMI or a number on a scale and judge a person’s health accordingly. 

I have worked with people who are suicidal who are thin and people who are suicidal who are not thin.

Health cannot be separated from mental health.

Can you be too thin? Absolutely. Your body needs a certain amount of fat and muscle to function properly. Can you be too big? Absolutely. Risks for all kinds of delightfully chronic and fatal conditions increase with weight gain.

Can you be big and be healthy? Yes. 

I know because I am those things.

If you exercise, if you are aware of what you eat and are careful to not over-eat, if you get the vitamins you need, if you prioritize balancing mental health and physical health, if you get enough sleep, “healthy” is within reach for everyone. 

If I ever write a book, it will be about balancing mental health and physical health. Because for basically my entire adult life, I’ve focused on one or the other and that does not work. I promise that if I do write a book, it’ll be better organized than this zig-zaggy blog post.

We have to push back against the cultural tendency to keep mental health separate from our definitions of general health. 

We have to push back against the cultural tendency to define health by how a person looks.

You are not “healthy” if you are not physically healthy.

But you are also not “healthy” if you are not mentally healthy.

And sometimes, especially if you have a tendency toward body dysmorphia or disordered eating, the healthiest option is not to focus on weight loss or buy into a fad diet plan. 

I am not trying to lose weight.

I am trying to be healthy.

And, you could argue, I’m not trying to lose weight BECAUSE I am trying to be healthy.

Trying to lose weight feeds mental illness for me. And that is not healthy.

This blog post is brought to you by a lot of years of working really hard to understand myself. My specific approach to managing my health may not work for you, but I challenge anyone reading this to take a moment and think about whether or not you are giving balanced consideration to physical and mental health. Because, even if our specific situations are different, balancing mental and physical health is the only path to being healthy. For me, for you, for everyone.

This blog post is also brought to you by a new health hurdle that has been laid in my lap over the past few weeks.

I have high blood pressure.

Chronic hypertension runs in my family, so I have a predisposition for high blood pressure. I have not been aware of having it at all in the past but thanks to my mom’s new blood pressure machine, I am aware of it now. 

Learning that I have high blood pressure instigated a bit of a breakdown. 

For a lot of the reasons I have already mentioned.

I’m working really hard to be healthy by balancing my mental and physical health. So why, if both those things are headed in the right direction, does my body not seem to agree?

Well, genetics will do that.

In the name of health, I scheduled an appointment with my doctor. We talked about the typical “lifestyle changes” that would be recommended for someone my age with high blood pressure.

I am already doing all of them. 

There are things I cannot control, however, that are affecting my mental health right now. I am carrying a lot of stress about the upcoming election. I am carrying a lot of stress about Black people being disproportionately arrested, charged, jailed, and killed by police as part of a system of oppression that I would very much like to have a part in dismantling. I am carrying a lot of stress about the pandemic that has killed 170,000 Americans. I have spent 7-8 years learning how to manage my stress. Those tools were not intended to work in situations like this.

So, my doctor and I made a plan to monitor my blood pressure, to try do more meditation and progressive relaxation, to eliminate processed snacks from my everyday diet (on occasion is still allowed), and to start doing some basic weight exercises with my cardio. 

Blood pressure is a really good example of why a healthy approach requires balancing mental and physical health. 

I’ve checked the physical health boxes for blood pressure management. 

And things beyond my control are preventing me from checking the mental health boxes for blood pressure management.

And also, genetics.

With the help of my doctor, I’ve developed a plan that considers both my physical and mental health and only time will tell if that has an impact on my blood pressure. For what it’s worth, my doctor is optimistic. Part of the reason my doctor is optimistic is because I am healthy.

To clarify, being healthy does not mean that my IBS has gone away, it just means I am treating my IBS with diet and medicine. 

Being healthy does not mean my anxiety has gone away, it just means I am in control of my anxiety.

I would not be healthy if I was unable to manage my IBS. 

But I would also not be healthy if I was unable to manage my anxiety. 

I would not be healthy if I had not figured out the value of balancing physical and mental health. 

Just like I found a way to overcome my iron-deficiency anemia, I will find a way to overcome my high blood pressure. It may require new medication and lifestyle changes, but by giving adequate consideration to both my physical and mental health, I have no doubt that I will eventually find a healthy solution to push myself over this hurdle as well.

Gonna wrap this up with a poor quality mirror-selfie I took this morning when I tried on a new bathing suit. This is a (headless) picture of a 200-pound, obese, plus-sized, healthy person.

[cetologies]

i once again... need to vent. so i apologize. i don’t have another outlet but it is under a read more. this is my personal experience, on the off-chance someone reads this and decides to pick a fight with me. i feel like i don’t have to say that but alas, the internet.

posting this late at night so hopefully too many won’t be subjected to it. i go into detail a little bit on this stuff.

tw: ED, body dysmorphia, OCD, depression, SH, anxiety, s//cide ment

i’m sorry i tried to tag it as well as possible to cater to anything blacklisted, i will most likely delete this but otherwise if something needs to be tagged differently please tell me 

this is definitely the worst i’ve felt in a long time. years probably. and some of it is my fault, so i feel like i’m not allowed to complain. but i will anyway. all i’m asking is to get down to 115 again. i was that small when i was 16 and i want to be there again. i haven’t weighed myself with intention to see what weight i am in maybe 4-5 years. 

i make it a point when i go to doctors offices to not tell me my weight. i cover my eyes and *usually* explicitly state that. but i didn’t three years ago, though i said “i don’t want to know my weight” and put my hands over my eyes and she still told me my weight. i remember crying and being loud, the doctor (who had known me for years) had immediately asked the nurse if she told me my weight.

i’ve always had body image issues but holy shit not like this. i’ve suffered with depression and anxiety most of my life. i’ve ticked off almost every single box in terms of diagnosed mental illnesses (except schizophrenia... which even that i’m starting to check off a few). but like i said, holy shit never like this. i would like to say this is harder to deal with than the anxiety/depression i previously have dealt with, but i dont know anymore.

this definitely hurts so bad though. i am getting depressed again, and cannot see this getting better anytime soon. partially my fault once again. i’d just like to lose a little more weight before seeing a doctor. i think i weighed (at the time of that incident above) around 129?? which is... healthy for my height but so is 115. 

my problem is i can’t eat. i can’t think about eating. my default state is now just nausea. i get nauseous from not eating, i get nauseous thinking about eating, and i get nauseous from eating. since october i cant stomach anything. i started adderall in december and it made it 10x worse. i’ve since switched to adderall xr (adzenys?) and i can at least drink water now and only a get half as nauseous. but that was really scary!! i had a little swig of water, no more than a sip, and had to lay down for 4 hours because i was so nauseous. 

my main issue is now i feel guilty for eating. which is normal for eating disorders. but i can’t eat more than 100 calories without wanting to self harm. it’s ridiculous, and i know it’s ridiculous but unfortunately that’s the number i can’t let go. i cried for an hour today bc i ate those lil brownie little bites and it was the second thing i ate today (aside from celery, which i also got sick and felt bad about eating bc i googled the calories: 60) and accidently saw how many calories they were. 240. 

so i ate 300 calories today and that was enough to make me want to vomit (i can’t, i’m emetophobic) and crawl into a hole and disappear. i have never ever dealt with stuff like this before and it’s so scary. i’m afraid my health is failing because of it but i can’t stop. it’s so unrealistic to eat less than 100 calories a day. the standard recommended is 2000, yet for some reason i can’t eat more than 100 without wanting to die

i check my body measurements 3-4 times a day. i spend at LEAST two hours in front of a mirror body checking and looking at my figure from all angles. these issues have definitely stemmed from my figure along with my insecurities. my entire life the only thing i’ve been complimented on is my measurements. it’s all i have. i’m not very pretty, but people are in love with my figure. and i am too! so many people tell me my body is great the way it is but i don’t care what they think, i care what i think. and i think i need to go back down to 115. 

i’ve chalked up my self worth to my body measurements. it’s not something that’s generally achievable without surgery, so it feels almost like a trophy to me because of how fucked up my brain is. i can’t lose it because that’s the only thing that i like about myself. or at least the only thing i like about myself that i don’t want to impulsively destroy like my eyelashes

and it’s not like i’m trying to achieve a completely flat stomach or anything. i just look a little disproportionate to me, since i carry fat only in the stomach. a little pudge is natural and i understand that. like i said, 115 is still healthy for 5′3′’. it’s not like im trying to drop down below 100. i had told myself once i lost the weight, then i’ll go get help for the fact i am violently nauseous no matter what.

which leads me to my next problem: this is my only solution. i can’t lose weight through exercise (esp exercise that involves numbers) bc of my OCD. i have such bad obsessive nature with any numbers (as stated w/ my weight, my body measurements, etc) and like i did when i started looking at calories, i’ll become so obsessive with exercise that if he doesn’t reach my fantastical expectations, i’ll want to self harm.

something that’s really making me upset is i specifically never looked at calories, checked my weight, etc. because i knew this would happen. i went out of my way to avoid stuff like this bc i knew i was susceptible to this kind of thinking and it still happened anyway. my body is going to start shutting down soon if it hasn’t started already. 

it’s fucking ridiculous though! i’ve tried to kill myself (and still, suffering as i am, i still thank god i made it out alive) and it’s just crazy that that was over anxiety, depression, agoraphobia, bullying, etc. and now i want to kill myself bc i ate CELERY!!! bc it’s 60 calories!!! like its so illogical!! i’m a very naturally logical person so this is just like each side of my brain hitting the other with a bat.

it doesn’t look like i’ve lost any weight, despite purposely not eating for 4 months. my grades are bad, my gpa dropped .5 points bc of covid and i’m fucking stupid anyway. i try my best not to self harm bc of my fear of blood but i usually end up scratching myself til i bleed anyway. 

i’m suffering and trying my best to make it through this but i’m trying my best. i just want to wait to get help until i lose a little more. but i am fucking suffering. all i want is to eat again. or at least to eat and not feel guilty afterwards. my portions are so much smaller, i can only eat a few bites of any meal and it’s so fucking scary but i can’t stop myself from wanting to lose more.

like i said, i’ve always had body image issues but nothing like this. i’m so so so scared but. there’s nothing my brain will allow me to do until i lose a little more weight. im afraid im causing/on the road to causing irreversible damage but i just!! can’t stop!! not being able to eat more than 100 calories is so fucking ridiculous i’m ashamed of myself. i shouldn’t be having anxiety attacks over eating celery.

[lionheartslowstart]

Too Thin

I’ve lost a decent amount of weight in the past few months. Nothing insane, but I’ve definitely gone down somewhere between two and three sizes. I’m hovering around a size twelve at the moment. I’m not going to name the place where I work, but I will say that I work in a plus sized clothing store. We do carry size twelves, but it’s one of our smallest sizes. When I started working at this store, I was between a size eighteen and a size sixteen.

I really like my job, for a lot of reasons. Is it what I want to be doing for the rest of my life? No. But, it’s a good job where I get to flex my customer service muscles. And, I’m pretty good at it, if I do say so myself. Of course, we get the crazies and the assholes like any other store. But we also have a lot of lovely clientele. It’s gotten to the point where many of our regulars know me by name, or at least by face. Just today a regular customer called the store and when I answered the phone, I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Oh hi Sophie!” I get a lot of compliments about my service, both in person, and on the surveys we provide. I genuinely enjoy helping customers.

As of late, my weight has become an issue at work. For the record, I’m not saying this because I’ve heard anything from my boss or any higher ups. (Pretty sure that shit’s illegal anyway.) No, I’m saying this because of the customers I love so much. It’s been happening more and more lately. I’ll be assisting a customer, and she’ll be talking about her insecurities, telling me why this doesn’t look good on her, or why she never wears that style of clothing. Of course, I’ll usually respond with something about how everyone sees themselves more harshly than others, or how I feel the same way about that same area, or a different area. These responses are genuine, heartfelt, and things I’ve been saying to customers since I started this job in the spring. But now, I often hear something along the lines of, “Well, it’s different for you, you’re so thin!” in reply. And I gotta tell you, it really bothers me.

You might be thinking, it should make you feel good when other people call you thin. But it doesn’t, especially not in this context. These customers, they don’t know my story, my history. There’s something about the way they say it. There’s no malice, but there is something invalidating, sort of disqualifying. To them it might seem like I have no way of understanding what their lives are like. But that’s not true.

I would have to write a post much longer than this to get into the entirety of my body issues, so I’ll keep it brief. I developed a thyroid disorder when I was nineteen. I’m not sure why it took doctors so long to diagnose me, considering it’s a genetic disease and two of my family members have it, but it did. (Although, I was told the “you just need to lose weight” line multiple times before I was even tested for it. So there you go. Hooray for fatphobia.) Cue several months of me gaining an unbelievable amount of weight, sleeping sixteen to twenty hours a day, being constantly physically and emotionally exhausted, and experiencing a whole new level of depression. At my heaviest weight, I was unrecognizable. I’ve always hated my body. I’ve never been happy with my reflection in my entire life. But this was a whole different demon. I’d already had body dysmorphia since high school, but it got WAY worse during this time. There are absolutely days when I look in the mirror and still think I look like that. And then I developed an eating disorder, but I still have a lot of shame around that so I’m not going to discuss it further. I hate my arms, I hate my legs, I hate my ass, I hate my back rolls, I hate my rib rolls, and I still think I’m too fat. So yeah, I think it’s fair to say I fucking get it.

When these customers tell me “but you’re thin!” it makes me want to cry. It makes me want to yell. Truth be told, I have started telling customers I have a thyroid disorder, just so they know I “qualify,” even though I really shouldn’t have to do that. It’s like a weird cognitive dissonance. They’re telling me I’m thin, but I’m not?? And it makes my head hurt thinking about it. It’s getting to the point where I’m afraid if I lose any more weight, I think I’ll have to start looking for a different job. I don’t want to, and I don’t think I’ll be fired or anything, but I can’t see the benefit of staying in a position where I’m making customers uncomfortable and customers are making me uncomfortable in turn.

The worst interaction thus far was a few weeks ago. A customer came in and was trying on shoes. I was chatting with her, just polite small talk. I can’t remember what we were talking about, but I remember her saying, “I’m fat.” This happens fairly often at my store, and I’m not always sure what to do or say. I think most people don’t, especially at a plus sized clothing store. But for whatever reason that day I was on autopilot, and without thinking I said, “Don’t say that.” I knew immediately I had made a huge mistake. She visibly bristled. Her tone wasn’t rage-filled or loud, but I could tell she was pissed. There was a sort of rushed irritation in her voice. She said something like, “Don’t tell me not to call myself fat. It took me a long time to be able to do that. I am fat. I have a fat body. I wear clothes made for fat people. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s not a bad thing. And I think we should work so that more women can reclaim their fatness. Don’t you?” I managed to choke out a quiet, “I completely agree.” My face was hot. I was embarrassed. I had been able to feel my coworkers watching our interaction. (Thankfully none of them brought it up to me later, bless them.) I stood there stuttering for an awkward thirty seconds, and then I made a beeline for the back room. In all honesty, hiding in the back is not something I do often, though I have done it a few times since I started my job, but usually only in cases of panic, anxiety, or intense depressive pangs. I’ve never, ever hidden from a customer before. But I did. I didn’t want to be in the store while she was in the store. After a few minutes, when I realized I couldn’t hide any longer, I left the back room but zoomed up to the front, far away from the customer trying on shoes.

I have a lot of feelings about this interaction. On one hand, I can imagine how she felt, having someone significantly thinner than her tell her not to call herself fat, especially having reclaimed the word for herself. She was maybe a size twenty four or twenty six. But what did she expect me to say? It almost felt like she was baiting me, like she expected me to say that and had a prepared response. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like saying something like that to a complete stranger, you’re putting them on the spot, are you not? And I can only speak from my own experience. Of course, I absolutely agree with her and think it’s wonderful when women can reclaim being fat, and hope that more women are able to do so in the future. But I am not one of those women. Logically, I know there’s nothing wrong with being fat. It’s not an inherently bad thing. A lot of the women who come into the store are absolutely stunning, gorgeous! It breaks my heart that they don’t see it for themselves. (I wonder if anyone thinks that about me.) But of course, everything is different when it’s you. And right now, I think my body issues run far too deep for me to be even close to viewing “fat” as anything neutral or positive, at least for myself.

The more time has passed, the more angry I get when I think about this specific interaction. With other customers, it’s not quite anger, it’s more like frustration coupled with hurt feelings. But in this case, it felt like this woman looked at me and saw someone she deemed “thin,” and, without knowing me or what I’ve been through, decided how dare I comment about being fat to her. How was I supposed to know how she felt about being fat? In an ideal world, fat would just be fat, and people could use the word without any connotations and everything would be just dandy. But honestly, if you pulled any random woman off the street, what are the odds that she would tell you she wouldn’t be hurt or offended if someone called her fat? In today’s climate, I would say slightly higher than maybe a few years ago, but still pretty low. I was bullied for being fat in elementary school. It’s haunted me my whole life. I’ve had people hit on me as a joke, objectify me, make me feel like I can’t do better than them, tell me I’d be so beautiful if I just lost some weight...you name it, and I’ve probably experienced it. And if I hadn’t been on the clock, I would have really liked to turn to that woman and tell her, “You know what? You can think what you want about me, but you’re the one casting judgments when you have no idea what I’ve been through. Seems pretty hypocritical to me.”

But I can’t say that. And I certainly don’t intend to if she ever comes back in the store.

For the record, I don’t want anyone to think I’m lamenting being thinner or whatever. If that’s what you think this is, you’ve missed the entire point of the post. Either reread it or get the fuck off my page. No matter what size I am, I will ALWAYS believe that fat women have it harder than thin women. That, while any kind of body shaming is wrong, body shaming thin women is no where near as bad as body shaming fat women. And if you think that’s bullshit, come back to me when thin people die because doctors insist that they’re just too thin instead of actually testing them for illnesses, when models are called “skinny models” and plus sized models are called “models,” when nine out of every ten women I see on television is a size six or smaller, and when thin people have to pay extra to get a decent seat on an airplane.

These customers, many of whom I’m sure are well-intentioned, aren’t making me feel bad because (they think) I’m thin. They’re making me feel bad because I’m NOT thin. I’m a size twelve. I still have trouble finding clothes that look and feel good in “regular” stores. And after everything I’ve been through, the body issues that have followed me my whole life, it cuts pretty deep to hear, what is essentially, “you’re not one of us.”

[bougiebutbalanced]

An Apology & Cease-Fire

I try hard to love myself. It’s something that I actively practice everyday. Now before pass judgement, roll your eyes and think “its easy to love yourself when you look like that” I’m gonna stop you right there.  This isn’t how I’ve always looked. And certainly not how I always felt. I’ve battled the demons in my mind and mirror for as long as I can remember. 

I grew up in a time when everyone wore extra low rise jeans and tiny tops that displayed their belly rings. Xtina was dirrty, Paris Hilton was hot, 00 was the ideal size and the resident It Girl informed us that nothing tasted as good being skinny felt. 

But.... I wasn't built to wear 00 jeans. While my peers struggled to find jeans that were small enough around their waste yet long enough to cover their ankles, I fit comfortably into a size 6. I had an hourglass figure for as long as I could remember. But since I’m not Latina and those only person who it was acceptable to have curves was JLo, I began to develop some insecurities about myself. 

From the time I was about 12 I began every morning on the scale. Not my idea, non-optional, and overseen by my mom -one of my main demons disguised as a guardian angel. 3 little numbers would dictate whether I would climb into the shower and danced (150-151lbs) or cried (152lbs): for reference I was about 5’7-5’8. Thus began my war against my body. And I lost every battle. 

Growing up, I became aware that every group of friend had a fat friend --And when the DUFF book/movie eventually came out I began to think maybe I wasn't alone-- I had originally noticed this because that friend was always me. I had a habit of scanning whatever room I was in and mentally sorting the girls from best body to fattest. And being excited when I wasn’t in last. Albeit i was usually second to last. 

I began to binge. However the only eating disorders that existed were anorexia and bulimia- there was no such thing as a disorder where you ate copious amounts of junk food without the purge part (which for me came later). I was consumed with shame and guilt

The root of my shame and guilt stemmed from my mom. She has a my way is the best way attitude. With everything in life. She has an opinion on everything and if you don’t respond with “wow best idea ever how would I live without you” she gets upset. Those are her own insecurities, but they manifest in unhealthy ways towards me. Having a mom who judged everything I ate created constant shame and guilt around food. But when I wanted to do some kind of diet, she was supportive until it was inconvenient for her. Like if we were going out for dinner or if she was having people over then I should “just have a little.”  Or that time everyone was going vegetarian so I tried too and she made ribs and tacos and other things I loved trying to “break” me. Thanks mom 

This also led to my distain for exercising. Actually, just my distain for running. I hate running. Always have. It hurts and it’s boring and I’ve never been great at it. But my mom became a runner in her 20s and therefore it’s the only way to get healthy. I would’ve preferred spin classes or to try Pilates and I love swimmning but she didn't like those things and therefore in her mind they were inferior to the almighty option for weight loss: Running. Not cardio in general, just running.  

Then, in my early 20′s I got sick. I had a flare up of PCOS (super common auto immune and if you have it go to a naturopath and follow the diet- you’ll feel sooo much better I promise) I gained weight uncontrollably. But I also binged uncontrollably so I’m sure that contributed. I was also dangerously anemic which caused major depression. However I’m going to skip over most that time because it was a long and painful process of recovery. 

Before I lost all energy to do anything all I knew was that I was gaining weight and so I lived on celery and hummus and went to the gym twice a day.  I also tried to push thru my exhaustion, resting in my mom's eyes in lazy and therefore unacceptable, in her eyes you couldn't possibly heal if you were just laying on the couch, you should be up and moving. A prime example of this is when I got home from Australia, I’d drive the 20min in from our house to her office and I’d be so tired I’d have a headache from keeping my eyes open. But she told me it was jet lag just go to the gym and work it off... it was mono. We found out after it got really bad. I’d helped to unload 200 bails of hay and that night my glands swoll up to golf balls. The next day I was diagnosed and the dr said no impact sports or heavy lifting or my spleen could burst, it was pure luck that I was okay after lifting those bails.

Anyway, I was in my early 20s and now the Kardashians curves were envied and Kate Upton was the epitome of gorgeous, times had changed...but so had I. I was at my sickest, and my heaviest (260lbs) looking back at my high school pictures and wondering why I thought I was fat. If I could just get back to that weight, I’d be so happy. Yet, I’d cry when I saw memes about having a fast metabolism in high school because I never had one. So the war raged on, I hated how I didn’t look like I did in high school, yet I hated that I was skinny in high school....and I never saw the link.

Eventually I healed, and  went on a diet (its called Ideal Protein and its Keto). I did this diet 3 times. The first I went back down to 180. Then went off it, and gained back up to about 220. Then I went back on it and dropped to 195, went off and gained back to 210...then slowly over the next year I gained back up to 220. And then I tried to be bulimic. Turns out I like the feeling of throwing up (ya    that might be weird) so I’d binge and binge and then throw everything up. I’d go shopping and try things on and when they didn't fit, I’d swear to myself that I’d “commit” to being bulimic, and do it twice a day. But it didn't help me lose weight, it just slowed down the gain. 

The third time and final time I did the Ideal Protein I was in a different (and much better) place mentally thanks to the therapist I was seeing at the time. I dropped to 165, and when I went off it I went vegan. I bought my own groceries and even though I live with my parents they work out of town so I’m mostly on my own for meals too. Sometimes I go through phases where I eat unhealthy and I go up in weight and then I go through phases where I eat very healthy, i.e: vegan (not preaching for everyone to be vegan but I’ve found that it works well for me personally) gained up to 175 and then lost (on my own). I’m currently in one of those going up phases and whatever. It started when I went to Bali and enjoyed myself, then I was unemployed and stressed so not a great reaction (I sprained my ankle in Bali so no dynamic exercise and even a lot of yoga poses I couldn't do) and now I’m on vacation for Xmas. I don’t enjoy what my body looks like right now but I’m trying not to care. I know when I go home I’ll choose healthy foods again. When my ankle heals I’ll go back to dynamic execrsices and when I get a new job I’ll begin going to barre classes because they’re my fave. 

Most importantly, I recently realized that I had been so wrong. I thought because I’d tried starving my body or tried throwing up everything that wasn't healthy for me, but that didn’t help me to lose weight so I thought I’d lost that battle. I tried to exercise everyday and often I’d push till I couldnt go on, but I didn't see any progress so that didn't work for me and I’d lost that battle too. For reference, the first time I did Ideal Protein I went from 260lbs - 180lbs and even though my jeans were smaller I couldn't see a difference in my reflection....so body dysmorphia was at play. I lost the battle when I tried to be healthy so I’d binge and binge and go months without any form of exercise. And it didn't matter. Because when I was losing weight (minus this last time), or when I was eating chocolate and pizza in the dark, I hated myself. I hated that I had to wear clothes that were “flattering” (I word I despise because in my moms world thats a compliment) instead of clothes that were trendy. And every time I’d see my reflection or a picture of me I’d feel like I’d lost or failed. But I was wrong. But I was wrong in thinking I was the loser in this war.  Because I controlled the shots and my body was the one that had to adapt to the restriction or the overload. It was the one that shrunk and grew in response to my actions that were all done out of anger, frustration, and hate so even when my body was getting exercise or nourishment it was always starved of love. 

So this decade. And those that come after it. It will be loved. There’s no wagons to fall off of or tracks to get back on. They’re all phases. Like seasons of the year or phases of the moon, some are darker than others but all are necessary for life and all have their good and bad characteristics. I love that I sometimes  allow myself to indulge (such as my current choices). But I also love that I choose to supply nourishment and movement to my body. I love myself enough to supply my vessel with nourishment. Now I move my body in ways that feel good i.e. low impact(yoga, barre, walks with my dog). And I also recognize that sometimes its better that I don’t move at all. Such as, it’s better to take 1-2 days of nothing but Netflix and delivery in order to recharge then to push through stress and exhaustion and struggle through before I eventually burn out, where I spend 2-3 WEEKS watching Netflix and getting delivery but hating myself while doing so and feeling like a failure. 

I’m so sorry to my that it went so long without love and validation. I promise to fill the rest of them with compassion and fun and understanding. Here’s to end of 2019 and good start to 2020; the end of a decade, but the start of an age (yes that’s a TSwift lyric) 

Love Me <3 

[jspwellness]

let’s start by getting v vulnerable.

Do you know how Lizzie McGuire always kept a journal about her young teenage life? Well, so did I. Except I didn’t have a sassy animated character offering her feedback. + I think that’s something that has always helped me - writing out all the things and reflecting. I’ve wanted to start a ~blog~ for a while, and you know what? Let’s get started.

It’s been quite a year. And by quite, I mean an AWESOME one. I’d like to owe it all to the fact that I got a job I LOVE (I did) or I spent another year with my #1 supporter and best husband ever (I did) or that I just had such great time with my family and friends (which I also did). But you know why I did? Because I decided that I would stop putting it off + go to therapy. Ugh - I did NOT want to do this. Even though it’s kind of ‘trendy’ (is that the word? uh?) to talk about self-care and how incredible therapy can be, I’m not an influencer, I have a ton of shit on my plate, and WHY would I need therapy? I came from an INCREDIBLE upbringing, with loving parents, never had some insane trauma happen that I can think of, and it just didn’t feel like I ‘needed it’.

I hate saying that. Like I’m ‘above’ getting help. But, alas.

But let’s get this straight. I was NEVER above therapy. I had constant body dysmorphia, probably since age 4. I decided to become a ‘vegetarian’ in college, pretty much to justify the fact that I only ate special K cereal and ate about twice a day. My perfectionism ran my life - After graduating college and not being able to obsess over grades anymore, I became completely obsessed with a career that completely destroyed me. Worked alllll the hours with none of the appreciation. I have constantly been running from one thing to the other, hating that my life wasn’t what I imagined.  Got the job of my dreams, and lost one point in an audit and had a nervous breakdown and panic attack because I “let everyone down” and that’s when it hit me. When does perfectionism become something else? When is it not being “type A” and it’s high key just RUINING your life? Friends - this is a thing. Afraid that when all is said and done, I’m wasting my life and never will feel like anything I do is good enough. Never feeling like my life is what I “imagined”. 

In May of 2019, I was at wits end. Crying in therapy, I felt lost. What was happening? How can your life feel GREAT, but you feel like nothing is ever good enough at the same time? Like you know things are good, but they feel so...not? My therapist looked at me, and told me what I never thought I would want to hear: “Would you ever consider taking medication - like, ever?”

I don’t take asprin. Don’t get me started with synthetic fragrances, because I CANNOT. Dryer sheets are toxic and my husband would probably get ripped apart if he even thought about bringing them into the house. Medication? I couldn’t. Its against everything I “believe” in and I don’t “need” medication. What did I ever go through that would make “ME” need medication? It seemed like it wasn’t even an option.

I was diagnosed with OCD - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - and honestly started laughing. WHAT? I don’t tap, I don’t count, I honestly throw my clothes on the floor sometimes and don’t think twice. But I’m not a doctor, and I figured maybe I was missing something. VERY hesitantly, I went on medication and was planning how I could get off of it ASAP because medication wasn’t something I ever “wanted”. And you know what? It has changed my LIFE. 

Why am I saying this? We live in an all or nothing world, fam. Either you eat junk food all the time and are one of those “omgosh I eat like a pig! LOL” girls or you’re restricting yourself hardcore, then eating 2 sleeves or oreos and feeling bad about it for 3 weeks. Our culture makes it SO hard to balance doing things that don’t fit into what you THINK you’re supposed to be. I’m super wellness focused, and will sniff all the oils all the time, but you know what? I’m on meds because without them, my life is just foggy. I love doing things to help others and am conscious about so many things, but you know what? I love fast fashion and am not always thinking about purchasing clothes that are “organic” and ethically sourced. It can be one, and still be the other. We don’t have to choose. I love collagen powder and drink protein shakes and free range meats, but don’t give me twizzlers because I don’t CARE what is in them. No regrets.

I’m not one thing. I’m not one idea. But I don’t have to be, and neither do you. And if you’re like me, then you’re in the right place.

Welcome! 

xoxo.

[namjuicyy]

Three’s A Crowd - Chapter Four

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut.

Genre of this part: Angst.

Word Count: 3k.

Summary: Your childhood friend shows you a whole new world, but no one expected what came afterwards.

Warnings: This chapter is going to get quite dark. If you are triggered by anything related to depression, low self-esteem, body dysmorphia, addictions and eating disorders, I would highly recommend not reading this chapter. I also want to add that I am not a doctor, and I am not seriously diagnosing Jimin with an eating disorder. This is just for the purpose of my story. Do not read too much into this.

Thank you. Please enjoy.

No one realised there was anything wrong until it was too late. It wasn't through lack of love because Jimin was surrounded by people who loved him. He was just getting good at lying to those around him convincingly. Jimin couldn't exactly pinpoint where everything was going wrong. All he knows is that he would look at himself in promotional photos and photos of him during childhood and see a person who looked like him, but wasn't him. He was bigger than he should have been. Everyone else around him was slim and well-built, but Jimin had puffy cheeks, and his abs weren't as defined as they could have been.

Take Jeon Jungkook, for example. Since debut, Jungkook had only been getting bigger but in the best ways. His shoulders were getting broader, his biceps were much thicker, his chest was more defined as were his abs. His thighs were man thighs, and his voice was so much deeper than Jimin's. Jimin envied that. Jungkook was a man, and next to him, Jimin felt like a scrawny little nobody. And on the flipside, though Yoongi wasn't exactly buff, he still looked good because he was small. Bigger was only better if you could see muscle. And Jimin couldn't see the muscle on him – not as he wanted to.

It started becoming out of control when Jimin would stay at the gym longer than his members. Jungkook would hit the showers, too tired to continue and would leave Jimin alone, believing his promise that he was going to finish this set and he'd join him too. Jungkook was at Hobi's studio long before Jimin had worn himself out and was standing in the shower. He could barely stand, could hardly wash himself. He was that tired and his muscles hurt. But it was fine, he told himself that it would all be worth it in the end.

"I ate earlier." Was the phrase that would often come out of his mouth when his members tried feeding him. When staffs would arrive at dance practise with snacks and sweets, Jimin would hang back claiming he'd eaten too much at lunchtime and that he needed to work on this one bit of dance anyway so he'd just continue with that while everyone else ate. Knowing he was a perfectionist, his brothers shrugged it off and continued eating, paying him no mind, believing that he'd eaten a lot. Jimin would do that occasionally. Sometimes he'd order three paninis for lunch instead of one, because he could decide on the flavour he wanted. Or he'd help himself to an extra bowl of ramen or rice because he felt like the first two helpings didn't hit the right spots. And Jin always looked at him so happily when he saw his dongsaengs doing that. It gave him a feeling of pride that everyone enjoyed his cooking that much. So, of course, they gave Jimin the benefit of the doubt and left him to it. But again, he would stay later than everyone else to practise the latest choreography just so he could get it perfect for Army – and for himself.

He'd learnt to fake a smile so convincing it was easy to trick his loved ones into thinking that everything was okay, that there wasn't anyone in his head telling him he was too fat, that he didn't see a monster every time he looked in the mirror. He had dropped his meals down to one a week, purely because he searched on Naver that that was the minimum a person could eat without dying – that was, of course, provided the person wasn't as active as Jimin. His trips to the gym frequented until he was going once in the morning and once at night. He was on the wrong machines, doing cardio when he shouldn't have been, but he didn't realise this. He kept dancing and dancing and dancing until he felt like he had nothing left to give. He was losing a lot of weight and noticeably so, as Army had commented on it. He was getting mixed reviews, but of course he listened to the wrong half of Army. The one side that praised his weight loss and commended him for his hard work.

Army had no idea what he was going through. Had they known, they would have sent him well wishes and told him that he looked perfect regardless of what the scales told him. Well, most of Army would have anyway. But, of course, Jimin had managed to hide it incredibly well from his members, who lived with him and saw him on a daily basis. If hiding it from them was easy enough, keeping it from Army was child's play.

His body finally gave out on him one day during practise. He'd missed too many meals, worked himself too hard. And in the mirror as they all practised, they watched as Jimin collapsed to the ground, falling unconscious before his body had even hit the wood. They were terrified. How could they not be? Their brother had just fainted on them and they had no idea why.

When Jimin woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed with his brothers around him, looking incredibly worried.

"The doctors told us you'd been starving yourself, Hyung." Jungkook said. He was angry, visibly so. But this anger was born out of pure, unadulterated fear for the health of his brother. This hit Jimin harder than the others being angry at him, purely because Jungkook's age was the same as his younger brother's. Jimin had always coddled Jungkook because of how much he and Jihyun were similar. "Why?"

"Jungkookie," Yoongi began, "anger isn't going to solve anything."

"Isn't it?" Jungkook's voice was a little louder now. "Because he almost died, Hyung. If we'd have gotten angry earlier then maybe this wouldn't have happened."

"I'm so sorry." Jimin whispered. He was already starting to cry.

"You're sorry? We could have lost you today! Why, Hyung? Why would you do this? What good would it possibly do? How would we cope without you, huh?"

"Alright, big guy." Jin began. He wrapped his hand around Jungkook's bicep and started to pull him out of the room. "Let's take a walk, yeah?"

Jungkook, for lack of a better term, was dragged out of the hospital room kicking and screaming. He was livid. No one had ever seen him like this before. Hell, they hardly saw him cry. Yet there he was, himself in floods of tears, screaming at his brother for his reckless behaviour. Jungkook wasn't the type to show it easily, but he absolutely adored his hyungs, and this incident put in perspective just how fragile they could be, and that thought terrified him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Jimin kept muttering. His heart kept shattering into a million pieces as he clutched onto Taehyung, who had taken it upon himself to rest on the bed next to his best friend and wrap him up in a protective hug. Jimin sobbed into Tae's neck, violent, choking sobs with his voice cracking as he tried to speak. Yoongi couldn't take it anymore, his own throat threatening to betray him. He took his leave, wandering into the bathroom so he could cry silently and not have to watch Jimin's heart rip to shreds.

Hobi had gripped hold of Jimin's leg and stroked it gently, tears forming in his own eyes as he tried to comfort his dongsaeng. Namjoon was holding onto Jimin's shoulder, trying his best to comfort Jimin too. There wasn't anything they could do, not until Jimin stopped crying at least. But even then, what could they do? There was obviously something going on in Jimin's head, and whenever that situation arises, there's nothing any outside source can do besides offer a shoulder to cry on and love. Words don't matter when you're breaking from the inside out, words can't save you.

When Jimin had calmed down a bit, they were all much gentler than they had been before. Jungkook had also calmed down, and had clutched onto Jimin's hand and refused to let it go. Even when Jin handed him a drink, he still refused to let go of Jimin's hand, opting for someone else to open the cap of the bottle rather than let go for a split second.

They were in the hospital for hours with Jimin, not talking about the thing that landed him in there in the first place. They wanted to cheer him up for a while. Or at least distract him until you came.

Jimin had no idea that you'd been called. He'd been out of it for about 12 hours. Not because of the initial collapse, but because his body lacked so much energy he just needed to sleep. So when he woke up, Taehyung's hand had been replaced with yours, and it was your face he first saw. He immediately started bawling again, completely disappointed with himself for letting you down like he did. You were his one pillar of strength. It was to you he usually turned to when he had a tough time. But even with this he felt like he couldn't talk to you about it, because he knew what you'd say. And he hated that he'd worry you.

You cried with him, hugged him to your chest and rocked him slightly like a baby. "Come on, Chim-Chim." You said gently. "Get them tears out. I've got you. You're safe."

The guys made fun of each other in an attempt to make Jimin laugh, and it worked for a while. He smiled and giggled along with you all. But, of course, the elephant in the room needed to be addressed.

You clutched onto his hand and rubbed it with your thumb. You looked him in the eye, and you softly spoke to him. "Chim-Chim, we need to know, why did you do this to yourself?"

Jimin, through tears, finally opened up and told you all everything. He spoke about the monsters in his head, the voices that told him he was worthless and pathetic and nowhere near as talented as everyone else. He compared himself to everyone, and clearly compared himself to Jungkook but refused to say his name because he didn't want to make Jungkook feel worse than he already did. He told you how he didn't look like himself – nor feel like it. And because of that he was scared of letting everyone down so he kept this to himself for months and months until his body keeled over and he almost lost his life.

Everyone cried as they listened to Jimin, and Yoongi even stayed in the room this time, something he never did. That really hit Jimin. He knew Yoongi was soft and sensitive, but he'd never seen Yoongi break like that before. He'd never seen you break like that before. The kisses you gave him were wet because your tears wiped off onto his face, all over his forehead and his cheeks. Like Jungkook, you didn't want to let go of his hand. You were too afraid that he might slip away so you had to keep him grounded.

Jimin, when he was released, went into therapy, and had you come in and sit with him during all of his sessions, holding his hand as he was diagnosed with bulimia and a gym addiction. And, within days, packages arrived at his house filled with books on his condition so you and the members could study it and get used to it so you could best help Jimin.

Numbers didn't exist to the house now, except for record sales and in regards to music. You all stopped letting Jimin go grocery shopping, and with every packaged product you bought, you blacked out the calorie count and the nutritional values so that he wouldn't see what he was eating. You started giving him small portions of the food that either you, Yoongi or Jin had cooked, and incredibly slowly, you gradually gave him more and more food to build his strength back up.

He was never allowed out of the house alone, and especially not to the gym. You, who loathed gyms, joined them so you could sit and watch Jimin, and discreetly timed him so that he still worked out as he needed to for his health, but did so at the bare minimum. You did this every day until Jimin could be trusted again.

And with the dance practises, you always made him eat something. Even if it was just a cookie or a handful of nuts, he was to eat something so that he could gain just that little bit of energy.

And when you found out, via Namjoon, that Bang Shihyuk wanted the boys to go on a diet, you flipped. No one, not even Jimin, had ever seen you that angry before. You stormed into his office and told him exactly what you thought of his plan and precisely where he could shove their diets. He was confused until a sheepish Jungkook pulled you out of his office to explain what happened. Bang PD apologised and abolished the idea of a diet for the time being, but couldn't lie that you'd made him pee his pants ever so slightly.

After that, to make sure that you'd stay in the country for longer than your tourist visa would allow, he hired you as the "Official Translator". He had to do everything above board like advertise the job and interview people, including you, but you got the job and bought a small bedsit not too far away from the guys so that you could see them every day and not have far to walk when they didn't offer you Jimin's bed for the night. Or Jungkook's for that matter. Though, to be honest a majority of the time you were in Jimin's bed cuddling him to sleep.

There were a few relapses to begin with. Jimin, being terrified of gaining weight, would look up the calorie intakes of branded food on Naver so that he could make the decision to attempt to skip meals. But his first attempt became his last as you threw the wooden spoon you were cooking with at him, and stole his phone while he was distracted. You put it in your bra, a place you knew he'd never get into so that he wouldn't have internet access, and essentially grounded him for his insolence. He was teased about that for weeks. Jungkook made comments about how he needed to watch his behaviour otherwise his mama would send him to bed.

"And for that, you little shit," you said, "no Overwatch for a week."

The smile on Jungkook's face washed away. "You can't do that."

"Watch me."

You went into his bedroom one day while he was out and disconnected his console, putting it in your bag and taking it home so that he couldn't sneakily plug it back in. When he came home, he wailed at you to put it back because he was so close to levelling up. For a week he moped and sulked like a teenager and Jimin was living for the punishment. He and Tae would purposefully sit and watch Let's Plays of Overwatch on the communal television, and turn the volume up whenever Jungkook was in the room. Each time he'd beg and plead with you, but, as you said, "one rule for one is one rule for all."

"Yeah and I'd like to see you lock Yoongi-hyung out of his studio for his behaviour." Jungkook stated as he threw himself down on the couch.

Yoongi, who was passing, chimed in. "She did. It sucked." He bit into his apple and walked out of the room again, not bothering to stick around for the rest of the conversation.

"Like I said, one rule for one is one rule for all."

"Angel, what did Yoongi-hyung do?" Jimin asked.

"He was working too hard and forgot that he needed to eat. So he hadn't eaten in three days. I kicked his ass and changed the password on his door. Let that be a lesson to each and every single one of you. No one in this house is dieting or overworking themselves, got it?"

Jimin had started to call you "Angel" one day out of the blue, and it confused you greatly. He never had a nickname for you before, so this was new territory and you didn't quite know how to feel about it.

"What did she say when you dropped that nickname on her?" The interviewer asked.

Jimin laughed. "She told me to shut up and stop calling her that. But, of course, I never listened."

"Is it true that Serendipity's about her?"

Jimin nodded. "I had no idea how to put what I wanted into words, so I asked Namjoonie-hyung to do it for me. I thought, at the time, he'd misinterpreted how she felt about me, because we weren't together then. He said," Jimin began to sing the lyrics:

Cause you love me, and I love you.

"I thought he was talking about either her platonic love for me, or even just that he misunderstood her feelings. Turns out he was right. She was just as in love with me as I was with her."

"But Yoongi was also in the picture. How?"

"Yoongi asked ___ out first. He, surprisingly, got the courage to go to her, and she accepted like I knew she would. They'd been sweet on each other since they met."

"When?"

"The MAMAs in Japan, 2018."

"It took him 8 years?"

"It took me about 13 years to tell her how I felt."

"So, how did it happen? What happened?"

"We'd just come off stage. Fake Love was a massive success as was Anpanman. We were all buzzing. ___ was there waiting for us..."

[golbrocklovely]

with ur response to that one anon it’s very clear you have no knowledge on eating disorders. ednos very much exists & I don’t think anyone was assuming anything with him. just like how some of you assume he’s emotionally unavailable or some other shit is up with him,,, those anons were doing no different. I think it’s best if you just ignore further anons regarding eating disorders in general before you offend people who actually have them. because at this point ur response to them about damn near made me unfollow.

….in what part of my last couple responses did i say that eating disorders/body dysmorphia don't exist? i didn't say that. and in my original response to the first anon and the second one, i literally said i know nothing about eating disorders, which is why i said this is a topic i think we have to agree to disagree on bc i have nothing to fully discuss. i don't have anything to add to the discussion as a whole bc i myself have never had one, or at the very least have never been diagnosed with one. and thus i don't feel the most comfortable talking about it. plus, i think the topic as a whole is really sad so it's not the easiest subject to talk about.

the first anon said "Colby gives me very pro4n4 vibes". and the other anon said "I felt the need to add something extra to the topic of Colby possibly having body dismorphia". and then the third anon said "I can see why someone is saying Colby has body dismorphia :( which I hope he doesn’t but if he does I hope he’s alright".

what part of those don't sound like an assumption? the whole discussion at large was based off of the original anon's assumption that they believe colby could possibly have an ed and body dysmorphia. also, you literally contradicted yourself by saying "they weren't assuming, but if they were, you do that anyway". so…. i'm a bit confused as to what i said that truly upset you.

also, as if it matters, colby has outright said he's emotionally unavailable. the actual assumption i've made about him having depression, sure. you can argue that that could easily not be the case. i've never said i'm right or that my opinion is law. i'm just putting my thoughts out there, and sometimes ppl agree, and sometimes ppl don't.

if i truly said anything to upset you or those with EDs, that was never my intentions. i apologize for that.

that being said, feel free to unfollow me.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Sneak Peak at The Size of Heart

I am SO EXCITED to finally post the Sneak Peak to my new fic, The Size of a Heart. This drabble was perhaps one of the hardest fics I’ve written, and that’s because this story deals with something that I’ve struggled with for many, many years now. With that being said, one of the many things this story deals with is body dysmorphia.

For those who are unaware, body dysmorphia or - Body dysmorphic disorder - is a mental health disorder in which you can't stop thinking about one or more perceived defects or flaws in your appearance — a flaw that appears minor or can't be seen by others. I am stating this right now, I have never been diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder, but I have done many of the things that are mentioned later on in this fic.

This was not an easy story to write because I put in my own experiences with being self-conscious, with hating what I see in the mirror, with seeing an image of myself that isn’t what others see. To be honest, I’ve also left out a lot of the things that I’ve done because of that. There were many moments were I had to stop and walk away from this fic because it was so hard to read the things the MC is going through, and knowing that I did them, that I still do. It’s not easy.

I’m going to put this disclaimer on the fic when it’s completely posted as well, but this is just a heads for those who may not be comfortable reading such things. And that’s perfectly understandable. For those of you do decide to read this fic, well, I hope you enjoy. I really do. There are moments that made me laugh, so I promise it’s not all angst lol. I really do.

Now, let me give a GIANT shout out to the amazing @ladyartemesia​ for making this fucking AMAZING Mood Board for my fic.It’s LITERALLY ON FIRE AND THE FIREFLIES ARE BLINKING! Usually I put the banner/header that I make here, but this Mood Board is beautiful and deserves it’s time to shine. Now, on to the teaser!

Pairing: Lee Hoseok (Wonho) and Reader

Genre: Established Relationship AU - Slice of Life AU - Smut - Angst - Fluff

Word Count: 9.9k

Warning: Tattooed Wonho, Pierced Wonho, messy kisses, Wonho is a hoe for the reader’s boobs, size kink - body insecurity, body dysmorphia, talk about dieting, talk about starving, talk about binge eating, fasting, self-hatred, self-conscious, use of the term fat in a negative view – explanation of the butterfly project.

Overview: Between work and obtaining an MFA, it had been too long since you and Hoseok had gotten to spend more than a few hours together, let alone be intimate with each other. When he whisks you away for a well-deserved weekend getaway, just the two of you and no one else, you eagerly jump on board, and him. But when you wake up alone left with your thoughts, unable to escape the insecurities you once put behind you, this  weekend  changes your relationship in a way you hadn’t even hoped for.  

To be Posted: Wednesday, September 9th, 10 am.

Part of the Intimacy Anthology that is being put on by @peonybane​

Last night had been wonderful. Beautiful. Perfect even. But now all you could think about was how Hoseok had avoided certain areas of you on purpose. That perhaps, he didn’t think you were as beautiful as he thought.

You didn’t recall changing. One second you were entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel and the next when you looked down to grip the fabric tighter, you were dressed in one of his black t-shirts and a pair of panties you had packed.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the towel fell from your fingertips and in an attempt to hold on to something, anything to keep you from floating away, you slid them over your face and into your hair, twisting and gripping the locks until there was a hard ache on the side of your scalp.

“Go away,” you softly whispered, tugging a little hard to make those pesky leeches leave you. “Please go away. Please”

They needed to go. Disappear. It didn’t matter if you had to burn them to a crisp and leave behind a permanent scar. You just needed them go away, because spiraling was not an option. Not again.