Whenever I am in the company of another female friend, I feel obscurely ‘large’. As if I am hovering over them, standing a head or 2 taller. The giant in Jack and the beanstalk comes to mind. I might as well be sliding down the beanstalk, grotesquely shouting “Fee-fi-foe-fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman” (sorry, no offend to any of my British acquaintances). And I suddenly become very aware of my size.
Now I do not consider myself small, never have and never will. If you have read of my earlier entries, you will see that I have been referred to as “thin”, “small”, “tiny” by fellow work mates which I resent and despise, and what a laugh really! Yes, I am 5’3 and the last time I weighted myself I float around 57kg. And to be honest, that doesn’t matter one little bit, because in my head, I am huge. I know that my self-image struggle manifested during my battle with eating disorders. Convincing myself that I am no good, a failure, ugly, unimportant, fat, was a daily occurrence, but I honestly would have thought that after all these years living as a recovered anorexic/bulimic, that logic and common sense should prevail?!
I have a lovely friend who is of Thai decent and naturally petite. She has the perfect skin tone, amazing cheek bones, always dressed well even if she stayed at home all day in her slacks. Please note that I am NOT jealous. Jealousy is a character that I have outgrown. I notice her looks, but when we are together, visiting, I certainly do not ‘see’ her in this manner. At that time she is just a dear friend and we can have a relaxing (and often funny) conversation. No, it is my own stupid insecurities that silently sits and waits until it is time to show themselves. And it is always when I ring the door bell, she opens the door and we are now face-to-face, often standing and talking for several minutes. This is the time when I feel the most discomfort, as if I overshadow her small stature with my huge body frame.
I hate feeling this way, and I hate admitting it.