December 10, 2011
Stretched out
Occasionally, though not very often, I run across a blog or post about obesity and Fat Acceptance. Sometimes these entries strike a nerve with. For most of my life I've been overweight and still am, though my friends swear I can't be any larger than they are (the truth is I just hide it well). Yes, I've lost a lot of weight in the past few years, but I think I'll always look in the mirror and see a heavy girl. But that's not really the point. Today I want to talk about stretchmarks. You see, most women that I encounter have those marks on their hips, sometimes stomachs. Despite my previous and current size, I have no such marks on my tummy or running the length of my waste. No, instead I have red marks across my shoulders, purple scratches deep in my skin that look like I was attacked by some clawed creature. I hate them. For the longest time I refused to show my shoulders off I was so embarrassed.
I'm still embarrassed and don't like to display my marks. But it's not as bad as I once though. I must admit, however, that sometimes I would rather have them on my stomach...
scullerymaid at 10:44 p.m.