Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

I never thought that I would be “the one” sitting here, writing about mental disorders. I’ve dealt with depression since I was in my early 20s, but it wasn’t awful. More like a mild annoyance. The last 6 months or so, however, something has changed. I can’t tell you when, exactly. All I know is that it’s gotten completely out of control. There’s a name for my condition- Body Dysmorphic Disorder. I haven’t talked much about it except with close friends and family. Mostly for the reasons that have been documented in studies: embarrassment and fear that I’ll be seen as vain when actually the opposite is true- I think I’m disgusting. BUT… the time has come to talk about it. I’m hoping that it will be therapeutic for me and maybe, just maybe help someone else out, too.

So what is BDD? Well, in a nutshell, it’s truly a mental disorder (that can go hand in hand with an eating disorder if you aren’t careful) in which the person fixates on a part (or parts) of their body. They can actually become delusional, seeing things that aren’t even there. A small patch of dry skin becomes the object of their obsession. They constantly pick and scrub at it because “Ugh! I know this is all people are staring at when they see me!!! How disgusting! I’m a mess!” When in reality… no one even notices. The smallest imperfections become the deepest pits. A little bit of cellulite… a gray hair… a zit. It goes beyond a simple “Ew. Zit. Go away!” mentality and truly becomes a source of anxiety and sometimes, downright panic.

For me, it’s my hips and thighs. All I see when I look in the mirror is a whale covered in cottage cheese. Huge, dimpled up, nasty-A thighs. I struggle with other things, too. (That dry patch of skin, mentioned above being among them) Personally, the most annoying part in all of this is dealing with the compulsions (I bolded the ones I deal with):

Common compulsive behaviors associated with BDD include:

§ Compulsive mirror checking, glancing in reflective doors, windows and other reflective surfaces.

§ Alternatively, an inability to look at one's own reflection or photographs of oneself; also, the removal of mirrors from the home.

§ Attempting to camouflage the imagined defect: for example, using cosmetic camouflage, wearing baggy clothing, maintaining specific body posture or wearing hats.

§ Use of distraction techniques: an attempt to divert attention away from the person's perceived defect, e.g. wearing extravagant clothing or excessive jewelry.

§ Excessive grooming behaviors: skin-picking, combing hair, plucking eyebrows, shaving, etc.

§ Compulsive skin-touching, especially to measure or feel the perceived defect.

§ Becoming hostile toward people for no known reason, especially those of the opposite sex, or same sex if homosexual.

§ Seeking reassurance from loved ones.

§ Excessive dieting or exercising, working on outside appearance.

§ Self-harm

§ Comparing appearance/body parts with that/those of others, or obsessive viewing of favorite celebrities or models whom the person suffering from BDD wishes to resemble.

§ Compulsive information-seeking: reading books, newspaper articles and websites that relate to the person's perceived defect, e.g. hair loss or being overweight.

§ Obsession with plastic surgery or dermatological procedures, often with little satisfactory results (in the perception of the patient).

§ In extreme cases, patients have attempted to perform plastic surgery on themselves, including liposuction and various implants with disastrous results.

§ Excessive enema use (if obesity is the concern).

Y’all… I can’t drive to work in the morning without having the rearview mirror facing me and checking at literally EVERY. RED LIGHT. to make sure that my makeup is in its right spot and there aren’t any streaks or lines…. to make sure that that patch of dry skin is under control. I take pictures every morning to make sure that I look presentable enough to be in public. The mirror isn’t enough- I need to SEE what other people see. When I walk up the hill to work every morning, I pass a wall of reflective windows. I can’t NOT look. I have to make sure that there’s no muffin top sticking out of my pants… that there’s no part out of place.

And if I try to stop? I twitch. I literally twitch. And then I panic because “Ohmygod! I HAVE to make sure I’m ok. I HAAAAAVE to!”

This is the part where you secretly think “Bitch, please. You’re what? A size 4? And you’re complaining about the way you look? You need to get over yourself.” Easier said than done, my loves. I am the QUEEN of “Just get over it” and it makes me hate myself even more that I’m not strong enough to fight this off.

For whatever reason, I’ve been blessed with juuust enough logic to realize that if I starve myself and became a bag of bones, I still wouldn’t be happy. I want to though, but that one I can fight off. (Thank God for small favors) If I had the money, I know I would try to get gastric bypass surgery or liposuction. I want nothing more than to reduce my appetite and see the numbers on the scale drop. The only problem is, much like with my clothing size, when that happens, it tends to go further. Most people would reach their “goal weight” and jump up and down with joy. Not me. I’d be all “Oh, wow! I’m 126! I could go down to 124!” then “I could go down to 122!... Gosh! Imagine if I was only 120!!!” Same with clothes “Hey… my size 4s are a little loose. If I’m real careful, maybe I could get into a size 2!”

I’ve done the exercise thing, too. But since the reflection in the mirror never changed, I stopped. It doesn’t matter what I do, or how I look, all I see is the whale that I was 12 years ago… and I don’t understand how anyone else can see beauty. It’s to the point where I don’t want to be uncovered AT ALL. I’m afraid that people will stare. Apparently they do… but my friends say it’s guys checking me out. I always think they’re turning up their noses and wondering what I think I’m doing trying to look nice.

I’m miserable. Plain and simple MISERABLE. I don’t even wanna be intimate with Ed because I don’t want him to see my fat ass and jumbo thighs. The man that saw me poop on the table when I squirted out our kid and all I wanna do is curl into a ball and stay covered.

That’s messed up, y’all.

I have what I guess would technically be considered delusions too- beyond the making a mountain out of a molehill when it comes to the smallest imperfection- I feel like my clothes are so, so tight (despite what people tell me) and I will look at food, get nauseated and then get panicky cause all eating is going to do is make my clothes tighter and the number on the scale go up.

Did I mention it’s messed up?

My body and my mind are constantly warring with each other. My mind doesn’t care what my body feels, it just wants relief. Relief comes in the form of doing whatever I can to be skinny. My poor body will have a pounding headache, a stomach that’s about to eat itself, woozy, and my brain flips my body the bird and won’t budge. The end result? I have to force myself to eat. And apparently when I do eat, it’s still not much.

The good news is, I’ve seen the doctor. Apparently I have all the symptoms of an eating disorder without the starvation and binging/purging. (And as I’ve said, the only reason I won’t go that far is because I know it won’t do any good and I can just barely overrule the urge to starve myself) He’s put me on some new medication that should help. It’s the “go to” med for eating disorders, so we’ll see.

If you’re a praying person, I’d appreciate that. If you’re not, I’d appreciate any warm thoughts you can send my way. More than anything, if you know someone who is struggling with something like this, get them help. I know that without my good friends pointing out how bad things had gotten and that little logic I am able to hold onto, I would probably be half dead right now.

I just wanna look in the mirror and see what everyone else sees.

I just wanna look in the mirror and be happy.