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A girl, a blog and a cactus named Pudding

Trafford Centre Tantrum

Alternative title: I’m in the midst of a body image breakdown that has probably been triggered by my inability to read European sizes so have inadvertently stuck my leg into a pair of jeans (that were probably child’s size) and proclaimed myself a whale upon finding the waist band sitting just above the knee.

 

While the jeans were the trigger, they definitely weren’t the underlying cause. In fact, I’m pretty sure the jeans were probably just the scapegoat in this situation. As I stood in my underwear, in front of the full length changing room mirror, I got to see all my perceived imperfections highlighted by terrible lighting.

Highlighted further, by my own demons.

The jeans, it seems, weren’t the enemy…I was.

For weeks I’ve tried to be more body positive, I’ve tried to pick a feature of myself that I like everyday to focus on when the demons strike, but in that small cubicle it didn’t seem to matter that I actually quite liked my eye colour that day. Oh no, what seemed to matter was the size of my ass, the cellulite, the tree trunks I call legs, the stretch marks, the Acne outbreak…Man, the Acne!

In that moment no amount of positive vibes were breaking down the negativity.

In that moment I saw the ugliest part of me, and it wasn’t a physical thing.

In that moment I couldn’t stand to look at myself for a second longer without feeling repulsed.

I dressed in haste, passed the clothing items to the shop assistant with a “no, thank you” before rushing out of the shop. I told M I wasn’t interested in the items, that they didn’t fit or feel right…In reality, I didn’t feel right. I wanted to cry but instead I pulled on my big girl pants, took a few deep breaths and tried to focus on something else. The water fountain, the sign for the latest cosmetic crap, the kid screaming blue murder over his spilled juice. Anything and everything in that sensory overloaded shopping space that could possibly distract me.

“It’s going to be ok” my brain said.

“I’ve been trying so hard” I murmur, then rubbed my eyes and sniffled.

“You’ve also been under a lot of work pressure, we’ve had to miss exercise classes because of the long hours spent working, you’re recovering from cholera (not really), the food recently hasn’t been the most nutritious because of being ill and let’s not forget about the coffee situation. You’re probably picking fault with yourself because of the pressure…Seriously, we’re ok” my brain tried to reassure me.

I nod…I nod and acknowledge that I’ve not been taking good care of myself recently. I acknowledge that I’ll have days like this where hiding under a duvet and pretending the world doesn’t exist is preferable to being in a crowded shopping centre while having a body confidence crisis.

I acknowledge that I have stretch marks and cellulite.

Sometimes I guess you just have to stop, take a deep breath and say…

 

image

In case new readers were wondering – This is the fabulous Pudding the Cactus! (Still going strong…!)

 

Or something to that effect.

So folks, how do you deal with body image demons? And what is it with the lighting in changing rooms?!

R x

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4 Comments

  1. Oh hun- *HUG HUGGY HUGS* <3 Trust me when I say that we ALL have days, weeks, months like this. I recently tried some stuff on in a changing room with those 360 degree mirrors and I felt HIDEOUS. I left the changing room feeling so down and rubbish about myself. I think body image and accepting ourselves as we are is a lifelong struggle- some days we are better able to deal with it, some days we're not and just cry or hide under a blanket. Those are the days I put on extra pink blusher and marathon watch Mad Men 😀 You are not alone, believe me XX

    • Ruebi

      You are a beautiful wonderful person…I’d offer to break those mirrors as an act of revenge but that is a shit ton of bad luck if I do! Yeesh! 360 degree mirrors are the worst! ((Huggles))

      And I totally agree, there is going to be ups and downs with this body image acceptance lark…I may have to stock up on my “Portlandia” and ‘anything-with-Reece-Shearsmith’ collections as an emergency bad day escape plan 🙂 x

  2. Oh, changing rooms are their own special form of hell on Earth! I have had my worst meltdowns in the face of those harsh lights and unforgiving multi-angled mirrors. I wish we did not beat ourselves up so terribly when we should be building ourselves up. I give you so much credit for resetting your thoughts!

    • Ruebi

      Oh man they are seriously the worst! Whoever designs changing rooms is definitely sadistic!

      I think from a young age we are taught to pick fault with our reflections…As though looking different to what we see on TV or in magazines means that there is something wrong with us when there really isn’t. We need to acknowledge that we are all unique…And that we are all awesome!

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