Painful Dreams Induced by Distorted Body-Image

You ever have one of those mornings where... You cling to sleep, the dream pulling you back, your bed is warm and safe...and you're fighting yourself when your heartbeat begins to kick up and your body heat rises, pushing you back to consciousness?

I struggled to fight the urge, the gentle pulse in my bladder... Telling me I had to pay homage to the porcelain god. *chuckles and takes a sip of her rich, strong coffee that feels like a warm hug as it pools in her stomach*

And it was strange dreams that tugged at my sleeping mind. The kind that showed me something I doubt I'd ever have. And I think it's best to write it in story-speak to be better understood.

*  *  *  *  *

The doctor smiled; warm, chocolate brown eyes encased in thick, delicately placed lashes that appeared to wave every time she blinked. "Let me do this for you," she offered in that gentle voice, a motherly tone that was as calming as her presence, "you deserve to feel beautiful."

I wasn't sure what to say to that. This beautiful, intelligent woman, was offering to give me a very expensive surgery for Free. I'd been mulling over this since I was Seventeen years old. I also didn't understand why this was happening, a part of my brain realizing that it was okay to allow this strange scenario to play out because this was a fanciful reality... That I was in fact, dreaming.

So I made the decision to go forward. "You know what?" I announced thoughtfully and gave the gracious woman a nervous smile, "I'll do it."

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at my words. "Wonderful!" She exclaimed with a soft clap of her hands and motioned for me to follow her. "Come, let us begin."

*  *

Since I knew this was a dream, my usual worries and anxieties were non-existent. As though I was living in a medicated induced fantasy, where pain was non-existent and nothing could really touch me. Had it been real-life, I'd have suffered a panic attack from what was being offered me. Gotta love how the mind works.

I remember walking into a room, which looked less like a surgery room and more like a bed room. I laid out on the bed/table and the next segment was kind of a blur. Seeing as this was a dream, I was awake for the surgery I received...and the only way I can describe it, is I could almost see what she was doing, but my chest was blurred out. As though my mind had censored it for me.

In the next segment, I was dressed, out of surgery and didn't feel the pain I had expected. And as most dreams go, I was already half way healed.

I was surprised and shy at first, knowing that the people I cared about were going to notice that I'd seemed to have had a 'growth spurt' at 28 years old. But I went about my day, also remembering how it didn't strain my back like I thought it would. I also felt better about myself... Seeing my reflection (and even stranger, it was Me in the mirror) and smiling at what I saw. It was nothing too drastic, I just filled out my shirt very nicely without the need of a padded push-up bra. I was finally content with what I saw, being in my own body, feeling truly feminine for the first time in my young existence...

*  *  *  *  *

The rest of the dreams aren't that important, in fact they became more random and strange as they went on. But when I awoke and realized it Had been a dream... My hands instinctively went to my chest...and I felt my stomach sink at the truth beneath the palms of my hands.

It's sad that as a child, I was engrained by everything around me, that women were meant to be curvy and voluptuous. And not in the heavier sense... In the proportionate sense.

Even when I was over weight, my breasts didn't get much bigger than a small D cup. They didn't quite fit with my small waist and thick thighs and butt. Most of the emotional damage to my self-image started before I developed... And became worse when I finally hit puberty at 14 and a half, but didn't fill out properly until I was 17 years old. 

I was brain-washed to think that a Woman's Strongest asset was a Full Bustline... And it was a Bustline... I just didn't have. I also didn't understand why someone with an hour glass figure, didn't have the proportionate breast size to go with it.

I inwardly felt like I was deformed, that something went wrong in my Genetic Makeup and it was my fault as to why I didn't have a correct breast size for my frame. It didn't help that some of my closest female friends had already developed years before me. But I didn't blame them for my lack of Breasts. Even at that age, I was intelligent enough to understand that it was just how I was built...no matter how much I hated it.

Also, hearing this over-used explanation for Years from my very Close Guy Friends didn't help my self-esteem either;

"You're a Great friend Erin. I don't want to ruin our relationship, you're like one of the guys." Which I knew was a big Compliment. Until they added, "but your friend (so and so), I'd like to get to know her better." Which in Young Guy Speak actually meant, "I like you allot, but your friend has bigger Breasts than You, so you're really Not attractive enough for me."

Due to the constant rejection based on my lack of development, I hated my body even when I finally Did develop something akin to a Bustline. And as a young adult, even when I could wear something that really hiked them up (wearing a Corset at Renaissance Faires for instance) I would try to cover them up. I felt that it was False Advertising. That because they weren't the size I felt they should be, I shouldn't flash cleavage and gain attention for something I didn't feel that I had. And even with certain bras that made them appear a cup or two sizes larger, I refused to wear them. I didn't feel it was right, to appear like I had a proportionate chest size, only to remove the bra and see the heart-breaking truth.

It's obvious I've struggled with this for a very long time. I've actually accepted my shape and 'lack' of breast size and have been content with what I can't change. I know it's my own inner distortion of myself, a type of Body Dysmorphia I continue to suffer from. People think it was just an awkward stage I went through like every other teenager and that eventually, I'd grow out of it. Unfortunately in my case, I haven't. I'm just better at hiding it. Unless you're very close to me and know me, you'll know I still struggle with this even if I never talk about it.

I've had to self-teach myself the difference between the Media's distortion of what 'they want us to think' is 'beautiful' and what Real beauty is. 

They've shoved these so called 'beautiful images' of 'Beautiful Women' into the faces of women of all ages, to convince them that they 'Should Look' this way and women wouldn't give it a second thought if the advertisers hadn't also geared it toward Men. Men will look at women, doesn't matter what they really look like... If it's appealing and showing any kind of skin (Seriously, just a patch of skin and they'll be drawn to it) Men Will Look. It's genetic. And the fucking Advertisers KNOW IT. So then Women will Notice Men looking at these Distorted Images of Beauty and will want to see why they're looking...(A woman's natural curiosity) And will then see they, themselves, look Nothing Like That...and will Want to Change themselves to look like the Distorted Image of False Beauty, so that Men will find them More Attractive...

...and the cycle of destructive self-image is born...as well as Booming Sales on Bullshit Beauty products for Women who've been convinced they are Not born Beautiful and Need what the Advertisers are Selling so they Will Be Beautiful. Predatory Companies making a Profit off of their Victims. 

It disgusts me...

Because I too fell victim to their sugar coated lies. I was so sensitive to my environment, I was down right Positive (No Joke) That I was incredibly Ugly. Due to outside influences (and some family members) I was Convinced that my Teeth were too Crooked, the small gap in my front teeth was Hideous, I had Terrible Skin, I was too Fat to ever be beautiful, my Breasts were too Small, my Thighs were too Big, I had Bug Eyes, I had a Pig Nose, my hair wasn't Straight or Curly Enough, my natural chestnut brown hair was an Ugly Color, my skin was too Pale, I had Fat Fingers, I had too many Acne Scars...and the list goes on...

It's very sad to think that it wasn't just the Media that convinced me there was so much wrong with me Physically. Kids are always going to be vicious to each other, so that was hard enough to stomach growing up... But Adults, people I trusted and were supposed to protect and nurture me... My so-called 'Family', told me how truly Ugly I was...and because I wasn't like them, or what they perceived as 'Perfection' I would never be good enough. I was a disgrace. I was the Black Sheep; an Outcast. 

What hurt the most, is not only kids saying, "Erin you're kinda pretty, but if you weren't Fat, you'd be Really Pretty." But those same family members constantly told me that no one would ever marry someone as Fat as I was. This started when I was 8 and didn't stop until I was 17...

So for years, those painful voices from the past would echo ruthlessly through my mind, especially at my lowest points, reminding me of all of my Imperfections... Of what I'll never have.

Huh...seems this new Blog is akin to the one I just wrote. Heh...how interesting.

It hurts to acknowledge these inner truths, my distorted imperfections. However, I find it a healthy way for others to get a better understanding of not only what I've gone through, or what I still go through from time to time, but to know... You are Not alone. If anything, I am more self confident Now, than I ever have been. And I really Do have things to be insecure about. I suffer from an Incredibly Rare (Genetic) Skin Disease that there is No known cure for, and is not only painful (and can be completely debilitating) but leaves many a terrible, irreversible scar in its wake. But I accept it. It's part of me, and that's okay. I really mean that. Honestly, it'd be great if I didn't have it, but it is what it is. I've also developed small dots of Eczema that randomly pop up around my tummy and hips, beneath my breasts and sporadically on my legs and thighs. Again, no biggie. Usually it's due to Stress, or Hormonal fluctuations. And I'm sure changing my food intake and living situation will help ease it. So I try to not get too upset over. It comes and goes. 

So there's a large percentage of myself that calmly, and proudly, accepts my broken body for what it is. It is My Body after all. *Small smile* And sure, after gaining and losing a great deal of weight... In January of 2009, I weighed a whopping 237 pounds. Three years later, I weigh 160 pounds. I've dropped almost 80 pounds... And 160 looks pretty damned good on my 5'6 and half inch frame ^_^

Sadly, I've lost breast tissue from gaining and losing the weight that I have, so my already semi small breasts are smaller than they originally had been. *lets out a soft sigh* Eh...it is what it is.

I guess what it boils down to is... No, I don't have the breast size I Feel I should have with my Hour Glass Figure. I honestly Love my Shape, I just don't enjoy the fact that my breasts don't go with the whole package. Generally I really and truly do Not think about it. Not consciously. So I suppose that's where the Dream came from. 

My Subconscious addressed a buried insecurity that was brought back up by seeing pictures of an unknown Female, that has a naturally different build than me...and it was by someone who I still love...showing me he Really enjoyed looking at her body... And somewhere in the back of my seriously complicated and sometimes violently destructive mind, a psychological switch was triggered.

*lets out a dark chuckle* Ah...the human psyche... What truly complicated webs we weave.

*Shakes her head at herself and finishes the rest of her now, luke-warm coffee*

Awaking to find that dream was only just that; a dream. Touching my chest and fighting the sting in my half opened gaze... Due to the painful realization that I found myself in the same body; genetically cheated from having the breasts I'm 'Convinced' I deserved and not the pathetic size that I'm stuck with... (...Yay for brainwashing...)

*lets out a defeated sigh* It just...really hurt.

"Thanks brain! Thank you soo fucking much for reminding me of the things I cannot change Naturally." *lets out a frustrated growl* "Asshole..."

Ya...it's been a fantastic morning. *grows a dark smirk and scoffs* Heh...figures.

Well, on that up-lifting note...*shakes her head with an unpleasant smile*... I'm gunna post this and try to find ways to ease my tormenting thoughts and find something Silly to distract myself with.

*Waves and Vanishes*

-Fades to Black-