There are many days I don’t like looking in the mirror. I’m not happy with what I see. My “mommy pouch” is hard to look at. All the weight I lost just to still have that saggy pouch be there. But I’m beautiful, my husband says. I want to believe him, I really do. But the only way this pouch is going to go away is if I get a tummy tuck and really who has the time or money for that? Not me. I’m stuck wearing a high waisted bikini for now.. that’s okay, looks sexy at times.
So I deal and try to love myself.
I barely leave the house without my hair extensions or my full face of makeup on. Even going to the gas station, Walmart, quick stops. Stupid right?
I think it’s all my passed experiences that brought me to this point.
I get so jealous of those girls that are naturally beautiful. No make up, nothing.
But I’ve had a low self esteem since I was 12.
I started cutting myself.
Definitely not because I wanted the attention.
Not because I wanted to die.
Only because it made me feel something.
I would be numb. With all the shit I was going through, and how it would never stop being one thing after another.
Eventually I couldn’t feel anything besides that.
Dad didn’t help out with that, he just made it worse.
At the time my mom was sober for a few months, and she was back to her normal self. Had her own place, full time job again. Everything was good on her end. I just wanted to live with her again because I thought she was better. She was done with rehab. I bagged. I cried. I screamed.
The only way I could move in with her was if she paid my dad to let me.
Isn’t that something?