Wondering around I concluded that while obesity was a problem that could severely harm my health, society’s concern about obesity was not purely health-related, but rather aesthetical. Society’s preoccupation with obesity is that aesthetically it is unpleasant or ugly while diminishing the importance of any other repercussion that may come with it. Unconsciously, little by little, I began to internalize society’s beauty standards.
Standards that I could not even relate to, yet I accepted. One day, while looking at my reflection in the mirror I noticed the gravity of these standards. I began despising the person in the mirror. The older I got the more my own insecurities manifested themselves hindering my self-esteem.
I began to believe that in order to be happy and for someone to love me one day, I had to change my physical appearance. I felt the need to lose weight and not necessarily because of my health. That was the least of my concerns. The drive I felt to lose weight was purely in vain; the end goal was to be loved by anyone else, except myself.
At the end of last year, after multiple, failed attempts with dieting and workouts (all for the wrong reasons, I might add), I felt desolate. Wanting to make physical changes out of sheer vanity had finally taken a toll on me. I finally wanted something more… more self-love. But, how could I love myself? I hated everything; all, inside and out. Every back roll, every stretch mark and every dark spot caused by my overweight, everything.
New year resolutions were just around the corner, and for the first time I didn’t want to start the new year with the same purpose as past years: lose weight. It was then that I decided that this year’s resolution would be to read a book for every month of the year. I felt a great desire to discover the meaning of self-love, and I knew that reading would be a good starting point. Today, 7 books* later, I finally have the courage to say no more…