Body Dysmorphia - Tumblr Posts - Page 3

My body doesn't feel like mine lately and I need to find a blackwork tattoo artist so I can start my dream bod art

Got tears in my eyes from reading this😭😭 Thank you so much for doing this ask. This hit very close to home to me to since I deal with self images problems as well, and this felt like a very warm hug being given to me. You inspired me to write a story like this as well. Thank you again

Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’ 

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable. 

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat. 

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

i know the whole stereotype of nonbinary people and anyone else under that umbrella (this can also go for tgirls and tboys mwah i love you guys) being skinny and having a ‘look’ about them has been super damaging to my self esteem, and probably lots of other trans people.

so this is just me saying i love you chubby trans people i love you fat trans people i love you trans people with curves i love you trans people with rolls i love you trans people with tummys i love you trans people

also! you do not need to be skinny to be trans you do not need to be white to be trans you do not need to pass to be trans you do not need to medically transition to be trans you do not need to have dysphoria to be trans

God, I'm so fat and disgusting.

Fucking body dysmorphia.

Dex (my imaginary friend) called an intervention just now on the body dysmorphia.

Why is every mirror a funhouse mirror?

Bizarre thing about body dysmorphia is how I see bones but I still feel so bulky and fat, like the image flickers between "close but not quite at acceptable levels of thinness" to "GIANT FAT DISGUSTING COW, MOO MOO BITCH, GO EAT SOME DAMN HAY BC IT HAS NO CALORIES YOU DISGUSTING BOVINE CREATURE!!!"

What I am saying is that no matter how thin you get, it still works. BDD just be like that.

if u ever think ab food go look at urself in the mirror. works every time

Excuse me while I go get drunk for wasting decades hating my body for not having an absolutely flat stomach and razor hip bones when apparently it was all ok

who am i if i don’t hate myself

source: theopeninvite

look, whatever you are, the most important thing is to know WHO you are!! i mean, you're young, you have time to experiment, try things on, and find out what you're comfortable with. dysphoria and dysmorfia are EXTRA hard when the ppl around you don't know, but idk, you can do what i do: pretend. not as in pretend ur not who you are, but pretend they know abt you. imagine them calling you by your right pronouns. idk if itll help you much, but it did help me!

just so you know, you can always vent abt that typa shit to me, i'm all ears!!

Alright!

so. I needed to rant after seeing a lovely post about how clothing and Body/gender dysmorphia can relate. So I apologize if this gets long. and please please please don’t read all of it if you don’t want to ❤️

so mainly my pronouns are she/her, they/them and something around he/him but not quite… it’s confusing.

anyway my clothes and the way they look on my body (plus the long hair) make people think I am always she/her.

which kinda hurts cause I know what I am but they don’t and I can’t convey it to them :(

so a few days ago I was talking with a friend and they told me I looked so ✨girlypop✨ which… yes that’s a compliment and I am so grateful that they think I look good! But my mind was screeching “I’m not a girl though!!” At that time I think I was identifying as they/them. To be fair I don’t think they knew that that was how I dentified that day (I still haven’t told a lot of my friends that I identify as things other than she/her, so it’s not their fault and it was a compliment we told eachother on the regular and this is such an AMAZING friend and I love them so much)

but still it…. Felt wrong.

Like I LOVE having long hair and I LOVE my clothes they just make EVERYONE think I’m a girl!! And sometimes that’s fine and sometimes??? No!

and don’t get me started on my chest because hoooooo boy sometimes I want it gone and other times I like it!!! so. Sorry to have you sit through that, but I needed to put it down and let someone listen/read cause I can’t show my irl people.

thanks ❤️

The people nicest to me are those who don't know what I look like

How am I supposed to believe looks aren't everything after that?

NO….not the body dysmorphia….ANYTHING BUT THE BODY DYSMORPHIA!!!

I saw this post on Facebook and it totally made my day. Whenever I’m feeling particularly bad about my body I’m going to look at it.

Your body works hard to keep you alive. Show it some kindness and respect today.

°˖✧*•  Shop, Patreon, Book, Mailing List *•. ✧˖°`

My Body Dysmorphic Disorder: “You are so disgusting you need to workout. You look like an obese whale.”

My Social Anxiety: “Okay but no one can SEE you working out. They are going to judge you.”

Me: 🙃

To the people who love to workout, how do you do it? How do I become like you? How do you find the motivation to work out on your own?

I was with a workout group for four years. I still DESPISE working out. I just hate it. Still, I went because I had a “responsibility” essentially. I had to leave for a lot of complicated reasons, but in the month following that my mental health has been awful. I have body dysmorphia and I have essentially been attacking myself daily at this point. I want to workout on my own to allivate it but I can’t seem to find the motivation. (You would think my brain being rude as fuck would do it but NOPE.) What do you recommend?

I’m not black, but I do have BDD. So there is a lot I can relate to. Comments were made to me so often about my appearance when I was little that definitely affected me as an adult. (I mean... obviously. Lol.) It hurts so bad when your own mother shits on you. I’m sorry you had to go through it too.

I checked out your profile, and you are genuinely beautiful. You’re the girl I wish I looked like. I know you probably won’t believe that, and that’s okay, because one day you will.

BDD is an ass of a disorder. I hope you can recover. ❤️

Being a Black Girl with Body Dysmorphia.

“You’re not pretty”.

“Monkey”.

“Ugly”.

“Fat”.

“You’re not even cute”.

These are just a few of the hurtful comments I received from people growing up. I’m a firm believer in words cutting deeper wounds because they leave scars on the mind and heart. Years later I can still remember and feel how I felt being called such things. Likewise, years later, at times I see myself as those things. As a child, being the “African girl” wasn’t easy. I wasn’t well liked not because of what I did but because how I looked. My face looked different. My voice sounded different. I’m a tall girl. My hair didn’t look like the other girls. At such a young age in combination with how people treated me, I was made aware that “Gosh, I am different”. Out of that blossomed self-hatred of anything pertaining my appearance + body image. Didn’t help that I didn’t grow up in a household where I heard anything positive about myself. Never was I pretty enough. Never was I skinny enough. Never was I smart enough.I just wasn’t good enough. Hearing your own mother call you “ugly” and “fat” but never once that you’re beautiful – That hurts more than anything. Imagine me being 7 years and the kids at school already call you names and now your mother has become your own bully in your own household. Appearance became a huge obsession for me. I lived (and still do live) with the pain of being called “ugly” and I never want to be called that ever again.

If there’s anything I became well skilled in, it was picking apart my face. I also made it a habit to say horrible things about my appearance … Maybe if I said them about myself first, then it wouldn’t hurt so much if someone else did. Or maybe it was me accepting that “Hey, I am ugly. No need to cry in a corner about it if it’s my truth. Accept it”.  Accepting compliments are never easy for me; 9/10 I’m going to think that someone paid you to compliment me than it being genuine. To a lot of people reading this, they might look at me like “Huh? Is she crazy? She doesn’t think she’s beautiful” … And I think that’s what sucks about having body dysmorphia. You really feel as if you can’t talk about the honest fact that you truly hate your face + body. Especially as a girl, first thing someone thinks is that you’re fishing for compliments. In fact, sometimes compliments are hard for me to take in. Not only because I don’t believe them, it just makes me feel “seen”. Like ah, people actually see my face. In my head, it translates that I’ve been looking like trash all along and yet I allowed people to see me. Negative comments on my body + face kill me. Being African, it’s common for an Aunty to pick on you that it seems as if you’re gaining weight. If only they knew that such comments could drive me into a week of “strict dieting”. Particularly being a black girl, I don’t think we’re shown as much mercy when we talk about not feeling pretty.  Being a woman already sucks cause the world has so many expectations on what makes you beautiful but being black was a cherry on top. And no, I love being black … Just that facing a double-edged sword of misogyny and racism doesn’t make life any easier. Like others, watching television as a young girl, I didn’t see anyone that looked like me. No one had my Afrocentric facial features. No one had my hair. No one had my figure. So great, I’m 7 and the world, my mom, my classmates, and my television are telling me I’m not beautiful.  15 years later, looking in the mirror, I can still see that 7 year old. If only she knew that she looked perfectly fine. If only she knew that she shouldn’t have taken such comments to heart. I wish I could hug her. I never wanted her to grow up still hanging on to people’s cruel words. 

I spent almost two decades listening to how mean people have been about me and how I look. It was until last year I started the journey of learning to love myself. It’s not easy journey. Sometimes I want to throw the towel in and just write “UGLY” on my forehead. Some days I’m like “Actually, I’m kinda cute”.  It’s a constant internal battle and most days I end up saying “Fuck it, I’m ugly”. But remaining hopeful that one day I’ll accept the beauty that makes me who I am, that’ll I accept what makes me different. I write this post not only for myself but for other black girls out there that may feel same way but don’t speak up. I know how it feels to feel that no one cares, especially when it comes to feeling sad about your appearance. I get scared opening up about body dysmorphia to anyone cause everyone mistakes it for vanity and fails to recognize that this is something I deal with on a daily. Making an effort to start tomorrow with saying positive affirmations to myself rather than my morning routine of tearing my face apart in my head. It’s a slow journey but God-willing, I’ll be just fine.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Weight is not a reflection of your worth.

Tried something new here. I wanted to do a piece on my body dysmorphia. I’ve always thought those little “ToonMe” style drawings that artists would do were super cool and I found it the perfect way to convey what I wanted.

I wanted to portray less how I see myself and more how I feel about myself. How does dysmorphia make me feel most days? Grotesque, deformed, ugly, monstrous, fat. All of those awful descriptors are how I feel about myself almost all day every day. My perception of myself and my body is warped.

It’s honestly a vile disorder. What it does to you and how you think about yourself. One day, with enough treatment and time, I want to know what I actually look like. To see myself as I am and not what my disorder tells me I am. I’ll get there. One day.

🥺

Me: *minding my own business.*

My body dysmorphia: “You look like this.”

Credit to @the_depression_chronicles11 on instagram (reposted with permission)!