I miss feeling pretty

my body is a cage but my mind holds the key type of thing

Aug 01, 2024

the following is an extract from my actual journal with some minor edits I saw fit to allow myself to hit publish. AKA this is intimate shit, please be kind! <3

making my way further towards the front end of the train, I'm looking for a seat facing the direction of travel. I jut prefer it that way. the train is unusually empty for a Friday morning, but I'm not complaining. while crossing the threshold from one wagon to the next, a DB employee boards the train alongside a couple. the couple has their baby in a stroller, so I'm forced to hold still for a little bit while they figure out if they push the stroller into the corridor or fold it before moving forward. I smile kindly by way of letting them know I'm not in a hurry. as I move backwards and slightly away from them, my eyes glance to my left, where the DB employee is standing. he speaks to the couple offering assistance, then lets his gaze land on me. he was handsome. dark skin, hair and eyes. nicely built, although a bit on the shorter side for my taste. not that I need a man. I already have one whom I love with all my heart and am very happy with. but it felt good to be noticed in that way. the way his thirsty eyes traveled up and down than back up again, resting on my face with a beautiful, captivating smile on his. our eyes met and I smiled politely, quickly looking away and towards the couple who motioned for me to move through after realising they'd need more time to sort out themselves. I thanked them and made my way through until finding a seat that satisfied me. once in my seat, I finally allowed myself to feel the feelings that his checking me out brought up in me. admittedly, I felt flattered.

when I was younger, I'm 25 now which is still young, but when I was even younger, I used to get this type of stare and validation all the time. often times unwanted, like by cops in a police car driving by me slower while my 12 year old self made her way to school on the side walk. but mostly, I enjoyed it. I grew up with a lot of value placed upon how I looked. as you can imagine, this came with a lot of pressure too. pressure to be thin and pretty. always a pleasant sight for other people's sore eyes. naturally, as one would growing up in a environment that teaches you to do just that, I enjoyed the validation I'd get. it made me feel worthy of something.

towards the middle of 2018 I started gaining a bit of weight. I'd just met R, who I'm still in a relationship with, and you know how it goes, you start dating and you gain weight. at this point it wasn't anything major though. things only got out of hand in the pandemic. I was depressed and lonely. completely isolated in a town where I only knew my partner (who didn't get to work from home for the duration). then in a bedroom where all I had was a bed and an armchair, with nowhere to go to, no one to see, no real job or passions, no family near by and in a long distance relationship (I moved to Berlin by myself in October 2020 hoping a change of scenery would make me feel better, but things took a turn for the worse pandemic wise shortly thereafter).

thinking about it now, I guess it was inevitable. I always had an unhealthy relationship with food and a toxic view of my body. had never been taught to enjoy exercising and moving my body (something I love so much today!!). so I let myself go, without ever being aware I was doing it. for the most part, I remember feeling dissatisfied with my life, but I don't think I realised my coping mechanisms were unhealthy. smoking weed nearly everyday, staying up till 3am most nights, sleeping till 2pm, eating a tube of stracciatella ice cream every night, going nearly a week without showering, never brushing my teeth before bed, staying horizontal for most of my awake windows, only going out of the house for groceries.

back then I shared a flat with a friend. we had no living room, just a tiny ugly kitchen, our individual bedrooms and a tight but okay bathroom. getting high with him and having R come over from his town to see me on weekends were the highlight of my life that year. the thought of it alone is enough to make me sad still today.

September of last year I was supposed to move back to Berlin, to live in that very same flat. in a different headspace and motivated by different reasons, I was excited for the fresh start I was about to get. but in my first night there, I had a panic attack. I couldn't stop crying, I remember feeling trapped, like the tall walls were curving in on me. I couldn't breath properly and felt claustrophobic. thankfully R was there to help me settle in. he curled me up to him in bed and cradled me to sleep. the next day I woke up still unsettled, still bursting into tears every couple of minutes. I texted my mum saying I couldn't stay there and she drove up to spend the week with me, try to calm me down, but it was all in vain. I cried myself to sleep every night that week, spend the days with a tight feeling in my chest. with nowhere else to go in such short notice, I moved back in with her.

that week in Berlin brought up everything I had lived through under that roof and tried to burry. it was cathartic. forever transformative in ways I had never thought possible. over the following weeks, the right books seemed to gravitate towards me and suddenly I had faith. faith in the universe and in myself. through books, therapy and journaling, I've gotten my life back and have been putting in the work to lose the weight I gained during that horrid period of my life. it is a long road, full of obstacles. requiring incredible amounts of discipline, something I never had, effort and daily commitment. but I choose it because I want my health back. because I want to look in the mirror and recognise myself. I could go on with the reasons, as there really are many, some I'm proud of, others bring me a bit of shame, but all in all I'm working on it.

back to the man on the train. I've been noticing the way men like him have began to look at me again lately. this familiar look, once commonplace, disappeared for the better part of my 20’s. and I feel a bit weird, guilty even, to be putting this into paper, but I missed it. I missed feeling pretty. feeling is different than being, let's make that very clear. how else can I explain why the now oh-so-rare, previously ever present, hungry wandering eyes of strange men make me think “maybe I still am pretty enough after all?” when I cannot bring myself to believe my lover's words when he tells me, one hand tucking hair behind my ear, the other interlacing with mine, his eyes so tender, staring deep into my soul, “you look perfect to me!”?

looking in the mirror I see all the things I've done wrong. all the poor choices I made at a time I felt so depressed and lonely and broken and scared, the only thing that brought me any resemblance of peace was food. and all around me people would tell me “watch out for your diet”, never bothering to find out why anyone would eat like that. as if it'd been a conscious choice I made, to eat myself half to death stuck in a bedroom everyday.

The Scream by Edward Munch (Image via Wikimedia Commons)

how could I not miss it? the very thing I was taught to seek? the external validation of my appearance. the recognition of my value! when I stopped getting it, it hurt deeply. I felt stripped away of any worth whatsoever. how could I feel pretty when simply by no longer being thin I became invisible? when the abundant looks of approval became rare and hurtful looks of judgement and disgust?

the confirmation of your worthlessness being handed to you gift wrapped in sparkling paper. how lovely would it be? to learn your value can be erased by the way people look at you, or no longer look at you at all. when you grew up believing your entire existence was reduced to your beauty or lack thereof. it is painful! it makes you yourself believe you are a bagful of rubbish, a waste of potential, a big fat failure. and when you think no one loves you, how can you love yourself? and if not even you love yourself, how could anybody else?

what a strange place to find oneself in. this one of need and dependence. where the validation that temporarily sets me free from my self hatred is the same that keeps me caged, forever a prisoner of other people's opinions of my body.

I can only hope there's a way out. my body is a cage, but my mind holds the key type of thing. I've been working on it, but it takes time to unlearn things. especially those you had whispered in your ear by every adult in your life since you were a 8 year old little girl, reinforced by society for the better part of the past 17 years.

I debated sharing this as I feel exposed, my mind served naked on a platter for all to see. but even if just one other girl out there sees herself in my words and is able to feel a little less alone, a little less broken, it is worth it.