You see, my motivation for losing the 85 pounds I have lost was seeing a picture of myself. I used to have an incredible disconnect between my self-conception and the actuality, but I was able to ignore it. Then came a point where it was enough. I had a picture taken of me by a friend, and when she showed it to me, I almost fainted. I thought, “I don’t look like that, do I?” But I did. Now I don’t. I’m still fat, but now my self-conception matches my actual appearance. Now I simply need to misplace ~60 more pounds. My only consolation is that I look more like “overweight former football player” and less like “sideshow attraction” than I used to.
It works both ways for me. Sometimes I see myself and I’m appalled at how much my butt sticks out (especially when I walk), or sometimes I’ll see myself and think that my stomach doesn’t look that bad. I’m a lot more pear-shaped than my mental image of myself shows.
I’m also a lot shorter than I think. I picture myself at about 5’7", but really I’m only about 5’2" or so.
Hmmm. See, the mirror that I always see myself in is one that only captures me from the waist up, and from the waist up, I look kind of dumpy. It is always a pleasant surprise when I catch myself a full-length mirror. It shows how long my legs are, and is generally much slimmer-seeming. But then I see photographs of myself and cringe. I always look so much bigger in photographs.
Shirley, I love you. You should be an advice columnist.
You skinny toned young folks, pay attention to your Aunt Shirley. She knows a thing or three.
I’m sometimes surprised by what I see when I catch a glimpse of my body from the side or back, but what I feel about the way I look depends mostly on what I’m wearing and how [un]flattering it might be. I’m “overweight” but I’m not unhappy about it.
The thing that throws me the most is when I catch myself looking just like my mom. It makes me feel old.
My biggest shock came not when I saw myself in the mirror. It was when I saw myself in my husband’s eyes.
First I lost the husband, now I’m losing the weight.
I was just going to say the same thing.
I’m definitely fat—quite fat—but it’s all a matter of degrees.
I used to be fat, then I lost some weight (not “thin” but no longer really fat). Now I’m fat again. I’m used to being fat. I’m not used to* not* being fat. Even as a teenager, when I wasn’t fat (unless you think 125 pounds at 5’4" is fat, which I do not) I thought I was a sow. Anything less than sow-like does not compute for me on some level.
It just takes getting used to. For instance, my mom (dear soul that she is) likes to poke fun of me and my weight (I call her an “old bat” so we’re even—verbal abuse is the cornerstone of our relationship—it’s all just tongue-in-cheek bullshit for the most part). Anyway, my mom was really teasing me about my belly, carrying on about how fat I am, how I look pregnant.
But recently I started sewing again (I sew off and on) and I had to take my measurements so I could get the right pattern size. Horrors! Yes, I’m fat. But it turns out that while my bust and hips are much bigger than my mom’s, my waist isn’t that much bigger. (I will now tease my mom mercilessly about this. She’s got one of those “up and down” figures—not much of a waistline.) It is heartening to know that there’s about 9-10" difference between my waist and hips, which is (according to the sewing books) quite good. Basically, I’m a fat hourglass. Hourglasses are the easiest to fit, sewing-wise. So no, I do not have this huge pendulous belly. I do not look like I’m pregnant. I have a tummy that is by no means flat, but it doesn’t need a wheelbarrow to carry it around in. When I sew myself pants I have to take in the tummy area because there’s always too much room there. That’s a good thing. I should feel fortunate. I do feel fortunate.
Now I will work on losing weight. Just a little bit, if that’s all I can do. I have so many patterns stockpiled (anyone who sews as a hobby usually has a large pattern collection) and some of these patterns are fabulous. But I’m just a size or two too big for them, and it pisses me off. So if I can at least lose enough to be able to use my pattern stash, I’ll be happy.
I like my full-length mirror. If you stand down the hall, you look all tall and thin and pretty. Then you get up close and cringe. But my latest experience was more with clothing fit…
When I came home to visit my parents, my mother gave me some bras that she had gotten on sale. They were the same C cup that I had gotten measured- back when I was painfully underweight. I tried on c cup bras without the benefit of them being stretched out by wear.
They didn’t fit. I’m a D cup. Or more. Blech. There go my pretty bras… on to industrial luggage bras. If only I could maintain that pretty thin underweight size 12.
I think I read this post 5 times in a row. That is a brutally honest thing to share, and you have given me more to think about than you can imagine. Thank you for posting this.
Aunt Shirley? I’m getting in on the fest. I love you too. You’re wise, and learned. I know you’re learned, cause I remember when you got your Learnedness Degree. 
**MARRY ME!!! **You are perfect, just the way you are!!!
I just went and took some pictures of myself without a shirt on. Sigh…
I’m 5’7" and double the weight I should be… maybe a little more. I’ve been like this all of my adult life and most of the rest of it too but sometimes delude myself into thinking I am not that big although I am always aware that I’m grossly overweight.
About five months ago, I attended a wedding and had the time of my life and had plenty of pictures taken of all the people participating. I looked forward to seeing them (mostly for them, of course) but when I did, I was shocked at just how huge I was in comparison to everyone else there. There was only two other people there that I’d’ve considered overweight and one carried it exceptionally well while the other still carried it a hell of a lot better than I did. I cringe now everytime I look at those pictures.
And I weigh about twenty-five pounds more now than I did then. 
For some reason every time he would reveal his distaste, it would make me self-conscious, angry, and turn to food, even though I honestly wanted to look good for him. It made me so unhappy that he thought of me this way. It actually sabotaged any efforts I might have achieved.
It’s amazing what hind-sight shows you.
Did I just do a pun? Why yes I think I did.
My solution was to just make sure I have lots of pictures of myself, so it’s never a shock to see what I actually look like. Ya get used to it–Helluva lot more pleasant than trying to starve myself thin.
I have almost the exact opposite reaction to many here. I was a fat teenager and in my mind I still am. When I see pics of me my first reaction is “shit how come my bum looks smaller in pics then in real life”.
Maybe we all have wonky views of what we look like…like when you hear your voice recorded and think it sounds nothing like you.
IMNSHO, one’s perception of one’s weight is set in adolescence, or perhaps younger. I’ve always been heavy. In high school and junior high, I was chubby. Not really what I’d consider, now, to be overweight, especially given the level of physical activity I was doing then. When I got out of school I gained weight some to about 250 lbs. I had to lose 50 lbs of that to get into the Navy, which I wanted to do.
My motives for losing the weight weren’t all that aboveboard, of course. I also figured if I weren’t thinking of myself as fat, I’d be willing to talk to girls. Hah! At one point I was down to 180 (5’9" - a little more than the tables say I should have weighed, but I had a standard blood pressure of about 117 over 72, and a resting heart rate around 65 or 70 - both signs of very good CV health.) and I was still convinced I was too fat to have a chance.
Anyways, I’m now the heaviest I’ve been in my life, and my self-image is the SAME as when I was in high school. I’m working on losing weight, now, slowly. But, it’s not the same desperate goal it was at one point - just good sense, now. However, I know, no matter how much I lose I’ll never feel I’m anything other than fat.
I’m 6’1" 200lbs.
I often have lots of people that I interact with apologizing to me for seemingly no reason at all. Because apparently I sometimes get this look on my face like I’m really pissed off when in fact, I’m not.
It usually happen in cases like somebody might take a stab at me (make fun of) then if I didn’t hear what they said I’ll be like “What?” Then that when they start apologilzing saying stuff like “Sorry man, I was only kidding…blah blah bla…” to which I always have to reasure them “I’m really not pissed off guy, I seriously just didn’t hear what you said. I’m a good sport honestly, even if it’s at my own expence…”
They never seem to want to believe me.
Anyway, I used to think what the hell are these people freaking on? I mean it can’t be THAT bad. That is untill one day I saw a video of myself at a party. The guy holding the camera was asking me various questions from a to z. Through out my interview I would get that “look” on my face. It was at that sobering point I realized “Damn! I am scary looking. I look like I could rip some ones head off.”
It was very depressing at the time because I really want people to feel comfortable around me and not think I’m some sort of emotional volcano waiting to errupt at any second.
I’m occasionally and unpleasantly surprised by not my weight (which is totally average for my height, though really low for someone who’s, y’know, over five feet tall…), but my build in general. I’ve been through two looks in my life: deathly, anorexic-thin (NOT due to an eating disorder), and…unpleasantly squat. I’m not fat. I’m bizarrely strong for my size, so I’ve got these godawful shoulders and hips.
On average, when shopping for jeans, anywhere from a size 3 to a size 5 fits my hips. Anywhere from a 00 to a 1 fits my waist. Plus, everything always needs to be hemmed several inches. Which makes buying anything a huge pain in the ass. ANd I can’t do anything about it.
(I’m not a huge fan of my body. In case you couldn’t tell.)
My unpleasant moment of self-revelation has nothing to do with my figure. (Though if I’d lose fifteen pounds, I’d triple the number of dresses I could wear that are in my closet)
It had to do with my teeth. My teeth are yellow. I knew that, but I thought other family members had yellow teeth as well. I hate the present trend towards using teeth-whitening toothpastes and formulas. I think the ease and convenience of such products and the ubiquity of the advertising is creating a market and a perception that one must have white teeth out of thin air.
Enough rant. At Christmas I noticed that both my mom and my brother seemed to have much whiter teeth than they used to. After Christmas, I looked at several family pictures and decided that my teeth were not just yellow (which they have been for a while) but disgustingly yellow. I bought a package of Crest whitestrips. I used it. I still have yellow teeth, but they are less disgusting than they used to be. I also have confirmed that my mother has had her teeth professionally lightened as part of some other dental work. Her dentist is persuaded that this dental work, and especially the whiter teeth should make her feel better about her self. My mom’s just disgusted because it ended up being more complicated than it was supposed to be and insurance covered less of it than she thought it would. Not the end of the world, but she’s had three emergency trips to the dentist in six monthes because something that was supposed to be attached with permanent adhesive was attached with temporary that came loose.
Heh. I’m about 5’9 and the same weight as you, not too much fat on me any more and I still want to put on 10 lbs. Must be a guy thing to always want to be burlier than you already are… 