Body Talk.

May 12, 2010 at 10:53 pm (My Story.)

In hindsight, I think that MRKH had a major impact on my body image. Given that I was in the midst of highschool when diagnosed, I think that this had an enhanced effect on me. With people always watching and judging how you look, who you hang out with and date (or not date) etc. etc., it is not surprising that I experienced feelings of vulnerability while also being very critical of myself and my body. I think we all have these feelings, especially at that age when we are still figuring out who we are and what we want to be. Adding MRKH to the mix just really reinforced these feelings. I became scared that somehow someone would find out my “dirty secret”; that they would see I was a “freak” and not like all the other girls.  I became obsessed with maintaining the image of “perfection.” I worked hard and got good grades. I was dedicated to working out which I felt would give me the body to be envied by others. I dressed in clothes that showed off my assets in the hope that if I was noticed, I would feel better about myself. It worked. Every time I got a comment from the guys, I would feel amazing, not realizing that I was selling myself short. I did not realize that I was better than that. I liked the attention. I felt like the ultimate woman. I thought that if I kept up appearances on the outside that it would calm the turmoil and confusion on the inside. Turmoil that I pushed to the very corners of my mind. It was like I swallowed the news but ignored it. I would “forget” temporarily. Sometimes I would feel great, like I was just as good, if not better, than every other girl. Other times, I would feel the complete opposite, like “who was I kidding?” But I never gave up on myself, it felt worthwhile to maintain this image of perfection. It was enough to conceal the cracks so no one would see how broken I was on the inside…not even me.

Highschool was a tough time for me. Even now it is hard to talk about. I was critical of every blemish. My hair had to be perfect and my clothes had to be bright and appropriately inappropriate. I used clothes to make me feel better about myself. Sometimes I still feel that little person inside of me, afraid of what others think of me. I think my outlook was get them before they get you. I kept everyone at arms length while also secretly hoping they would reach back and not give up on me. Maybe then I would feel worthwhile. I had a good group of friends. They never knew any of this but they always understood me, within reason. We were all insecure but what I think I always felt that I was the most insecure. In some ways, I hoped to blend in and in others, I hoped to stand out. The girls never liked this but the guys loved it. I, however, was caught on the fence.

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