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Journal- 107 Body image.

Date: 27.11.2022

Day: Sunday

“Can I go into an exile from this goddamned land and never return? Can I just put on an invisible cloak and not exist here anymore? Is there any way of refraining other humans from seeing me? Cause that’s how worse my body dysmorphia has gotten. I’m sorry that I don’t fit into the societal mould of “female body”. Know what? I’m not sorry for being myself. But idk gawwdd I feel this is not how my body’s supposed to be. I eat a burger and some fries and it haunts me for the rest of my life. I see pictures of my skinny friends online wearing crop tops and cute jeans without having a visible muffin top, and I AM FUCKING CRABBY ABOUT IT. I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed about having little tummy, or if arms aren’t as skinny as those of Instagram models. Yeah that’s cause I ain’t a fucking model. I’m a regular college girl who eats normally as a source of nourishment. I can’t force to starve myself just to shred some extra flabs. But no matter how many posts on social media illusions and body positivity I come across, my thick skulled head just loves easing into negativity. Naive brain likes fixating on my flaws and curves and flabs. Although the logical part of my brain is well aware that having curves ain’t a flaw. Period.

Such a dumb ass bitch for caring what others think about me and how others perceive me.”

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