I’ve gained back my original weight from recluse weight and just being shut-in for the past couple of weeks. It was pretty dark. I was kind of a wreck. I wasn’t being very kind to myself.
Confession: I’m not very comfortable with my face. Or my body. Or both at the same time. It’s not that I hate it. I know objectively, I’m not ugly. But I hate when I’m past a certain weight. I can get pretty down on myself. I’ll never be my ideal because my frame just simple isn’t cut out for it. I also don’t have the tits size for the other ideal. Maybe one day.
In an attempt to accept myself as myself, I took a bunch of pictures topless. It’s not even a comfort thing. It’s more of, I wish I could do this all the time and for a reason other than my own, ya know? I like being clothes-less. I like recognition. I like compliments. I just wish I was okay with my own beauty.
But I’m not… entirely. Especially with the weight gain.