Weight, Self-Image, and other odd thoughts

I have a not-particularly-shocking confession to make. Before I do, please allow me to preface this post. I am not looking for compliments, or pick-me-ups, or warm-fuzzies, or anything like that. Rather, I’m just trying to help figure out my own brain and my own issues with self-image, while also explaining a few things about my own behavior.

Ever since getting the doctor’s advice about diet and the issues with my metabolism, I have been very careful about what I eat, and what I don’t eat. According to the scale, it has paid off! I have lost nearly 25 pounds. It is weight that has come off slowly, and appropriately, all from the areas of fat storage. Pants that used to be really tight on me now slide right off if I don’t have a belt on. WooHOO! You’d think that would make me happy, right? You’d think I would stop beating myself up, right? When I look in the mirror, the only thing I can see is the pudge. The other morning, in fact, as I stepped out of the shower and began to sort through my clothes for the workday, I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. And as I did, it took no time at all before my mind formed one thought – “Fatty!!!!!!!!” It was then that my rational brain kicked in to remind myself that I have been continually working out and have lost a significant amount of weight. According to the scale, I am now LESS THAN my goal weight. So…WTF?

My eloquent, brilliant, and amazingly rational husband tells me that the problem is that my self-image was formed at a time when I really was fat. And while I am no longer physically in that place, my mind is because that is when the negative self-image was born. Truth be told, I really developed slowly and awkwardly. As a child, I was the short, frumpy fat kid. Puberty and growth seemed to hit me late and take their sweet time. My growth spurts took place in high school and in college, turning me awkwardly lanky. I wasn’t a boy, but unlike my peers around me, I still wasn’t done morphing. All these other MEN had burst out of their cocoons fully developed. But me… I was still not quite there. Heck, I don’t think I got hair on my chest until I turned 30. At the time, this felt very weird and awkward. I was aging slower than everyone else, and it sucked BIG time. Of course, this does have its advantages – I just didn’t see them at that time. Now, in my early 40’s, I’m in good shape and don’t really look my age. I’m happy with the numbers on the scales, and when I don’t listen to the knee-jerk reaction of my hyper-self-critical brain, I’m pretty happy about the way I look. Yet, that initial self-judgment is always there. I guess I’m so used to not being happy about the way that I look that it has become habit. A bad habit? Absolutely. But it is there nonetheless. Back in the day, I probably would have been the perfect candidate for anorexia/bulimia if I wasn’t so averse to hurling.

Why do early negative self-images have so much power?