There’s something I want to share with you, but it’s kind of embarrassing.
I am a seriously flawed human being.
“Why is she bringing this up?” you’re probably wondering.
Perhaps part of it is the onslaught of media attention on models being photoshopped to such an extreme that a normal woman is made to feel like she will never be good enough. How could you when compared to the perfection posted on the front of Vogue and Cosmo?
Heck, I even read about Megan Fox getting picked on for having a deformed thumb.
No, it’s not just those things. I’ve been this way probably before photoshopping was even invented. I just happened to be looking in the mirror the other day, when I noticed that my right upper arm is extremely larger than my left. I’m not sure when this travesty happened. Perhaps it’s just the result of small cellular changes that have occurred throughout the years, but the fact is, it’s at least 2 inches in diameter bigger than my left.
This realization has led to a barrage of irrational ideas such as moving my one massive arm in a circle continuously while sitting on the couch watching television, lifting a weight with only my right arm when I’m on the treadmill, or even having liposuction in one arm. I wonder if it’s less expensive if you just do one arm?
This isn’t the first time I’ve had “issues”.
My junior year of high school I transferred to a new school. My public school years were never anything wonderful to look back on, but it was that year at my new school that I met a boy shit head named Justin who made my life miserable.
Justin would call me Toucan Sam and ridicule me because the bump that had been passed on for many generations in my family landed firmly on my nose the day I was conceived. I begged my mom to pay for a nose job so I would not have to endure his teasing. She refused saying I was perfect the way I was.
Regardless, I lived the next 8 years of my life dreaming of a day when I would not be ashamed of my profile. All courtesy of Justin. It was the year I turned 25 that I saved up and got a nose job.
My mother was FURIOUS. She was sure I was going to end up looking like a totally different person and ruin my face. The doctor promised the only change he would make was to remove the bump even though he tried relentlessly to explain how my face would be more aesthetically pleasing if he thinned my nose and turned it slightly up at the end. I was terrified I would end up looking like a combination of Michael Jackson morphed with Miss Piggy. Thankfully I ended up looking pretty much the same as before.
So please understand that I’m not sharing this to gain your pity or get bombarded with concern over my body dysmorphic disorder, but just to show that everyone has their issues. I actually think it’s kind of funny when I look back on it. But what about my daughter? Isn’t it going to be a big part of my job to not pass on this craziness to her. I don’t ever want my her to feel like she doesn’t live up to the world’s unrealistic standards. She is after all, actually perfect. How do you say to your daughter, “Mommy is just making circles with her right arm because she’s bored” without feeling guilty.
So here I am, 13 years later fixated on my arm deformity. And though I now can turn my head to the side without thoughts of Justin (who is probably fat,ugly, and alone) going through my head, I still don’t like my nose.
Wish I had that $5000 back I paid for it so I could get arm liposuction.
