Comfortable With Conformity
Ever since I was 14, I noticed that my stomach was not flat anymore. I never really paid much attention to my stomach before I was 14-- oversize T-shirts and the layered look were always in fashion. I had not yet entered the midriff baring '90s. I remember it distinctly, wearing a pair of black, skin-tight stretch Edwins and a short poufy white sweater. I would look down at my waist and see a bulge. I remember thinking, "maybe I shouldn't wear tops like this anymore if my stomach bulges like that". From then on, I learned to hate my stomach.
The same year, I was taken to a doctor to rule out physical ailments before seeing a pyschologist for some problems I was having getting along with my sister. I had an ultrasound. I remember feeling fat and disgusting as the technician rolled up my shirt and pressed a paddle down on my bloated belly. I started watching my weight shortly after that visit.
I avoided being totally naked in front of every single boyfriend (with the exceoption of S) because of the embarrasment I had from my big belly. I never sunbathed nude, nor changed in front of girlfriends. My body mortified me.
At age 26, my stomach is still round and bulgy. In all honesty, it's no better or worse than the average woman's; I just obsess over not being perfect.
I did some yoga tonight, and some extra stomach crunches. Flattening my stomach is more than physical for me now-- it's about overcoming a life-long nusisance. How liberating it must be to throw caution to the wind and tie your shirt up in a tidy little knot in the back, Hooters-girl style. My dream outfit is a low-waisted long, slim skirt and a short top. I'll take a picture.
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