So I've been thinking about surgery again.
It's really fucking stupid, I know. It's not going to magically make all my image issues go away. It's expensive, painful to recover from, leaves scars, may not have the results I want...
But if I had the money--
(I'd apply it to my student loan debt, because I'm not a complete idiot.)
If I had the money and no mountain of insurmountable educational debt on my back, I think I really would try it. I'm just tired of feeling this way-- of avoiding mirrors, trying not to look at my reflection in glass as I pass by, feeling like a grotesque freak just by existing.
I know it's not logical. I know that no one else is judging me on how big my ass is or anything else remotely like that. Shit, if I were trying to live up to other people's expectations, things would be a fuck of a lot easier.
No, the only expectations I'm trying to live up to are my own, and I make damned sure I can never actually do so. It is, in fact, impossible for me to look and act the way I think I should, since A, I can't magically grow six inches taller and B, I don't have a time machine to make the past eight years of my life disappear. Instead, I have this permanent little list of things I can never truly fix to flagellate myself with whenever I start feeling too chipper.
I'm tired of the self-loathing, and I don't know any way to fix it. I wish there were something I could do to make it better, but it seems that everything I try just makes it worse.
It's funny-- I was the most at ease with myself that I've been in years in this past month or so. I was too busy worrying about whether or not I'd have enough money to make rent for next month without borrowing from my parents to give a shit about what I saw when I looked at myself. Looks like all it takes to get me to stop thinking about myself in a negative light is the threat of having to sell off my books and art supplies to cover my school bills. I'd rather not have the threat of insolvency be a permanent feature of my life, however, so that makes it... slightly less than ideal as a solution. Too bad; it was nice being indifferent to whether or not I'd gone to the gym enough that week, or whether or not I had done my best to try and make myself look as inoffensive as possible to the general public.
/me sighs.
I want to not be broken anymore.
I want, desperately, for there to be an easy way to be fixed. I know that surgery isn't going to help, not really. But part of me really and truly wishes it could. I'm tired of fighting myself over shit that shouldn't even matter. I just want it to stop, somehow, and I don't know how to make that happen on my own. I'm desperate for answers, because I'm afraid things really never will get better.