On this blog I have often spoken of how I feel about myself emotionally, but I have yet to really go down the rabbit hole of my physical self image reflection. Mainly because I'm not sure anyone wants to hear another whiny white boy talk about issues that for the most part affect others more. There is way more pressure on women to look good than there is men, and I'm acknowledging that now. I do not dispute that at all, but right now I'm going to talk about my image issues, I am not a woman and therefore cannot speak for them. I can only speak for myself.
I've always admired the audacious styling of such rock stars such as David Bowie or Prince, but perhaps I feel I lack the physique, no one wants to see a 190 pound hairy kid wearing skin tight clothing. No one is fighting for me to wear less than I do already. No one wants me to wear less.
I only wear a certain type of jeans because it's the type I've decided makes my legs look the least misshapen and fat. I often adjust my sitting position to make my thighs look less large. I never look forward to swimming in mixed company because I'm afraid of what other people are going to think of how I look. I spend at least twenty minutes choosing an outfit trying to find one that I like in the morning. Clothes that perhaps yesterday I loved today make me feel frumpy and fat. I'm afraid every day people are going to find me fat and unappealing. Which is stupid, I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't care about what I look like, and yet I do. I agonize over it.
It's why I so often post pictures of myself. My vanity is a way of covering my crippling body image issues. I never dress down in public. A handful of people have ever seen me in sweatpants. I need the positive feedback on my looks to feel good looking.
My prom photos while wonderfully taken made me think I look like I've gained weight (which I probably have, I don't know) and I look awkward. There are old pictures of me more acne ridden than I am that if I saw today would probably cause me to break down crying. I'm so obsessed with how I look that it makes me late in the morning. I often go through three or four outfits until I can stand to go out. I have a long torso and shirts that fit me around often aren't long enough so if I raise my arms my hairy and chubby belly shows itself and often invokes some form of response, this response often makes me want to curl into a ball and die.
I want so badly to dress more outrageously, but there is this tightness in my chest that blossoms when I imagine people's responses. Clothes shopping with me is often an event or an ordeal as I constantly ask and crave feedback waffling back and forth on choices and I'm really probably annoying to shop with.
I once saw a video of me and the view of me from the side made me feel so bad I put in hourly reminders into my phone to fix my posture so I'd avoid looking less like an idiot. I doubt anyone cares how I look from the side but me, I'm sure no one but I care, but I am afraid that people do. And it kills me.
It feels like modern fashion is tailored for men with tiny waists and small thighs and dainty ankles. It feels like the only non mockable men on the beach are the ones who have flat stomachs. I can't dress in the trendy fashions, they don't come in my size, they don't fit my body. It's bullshit. But it's bullshit that paralyzes me with fear. So what's more ridiculous, the system or the boy who is trapped by it even if he knows it's bogus? I know people don't care that much, yet I still can't bring myself out of the shadow of my own god damn fears. It's painful as hell.
I'm not sure it will ever go away. I usually have to take my glasses off to talk to people because I'm afraid of how I look in them, even though I love them.
I'm afraid of how I look, I don't know if I'm ever going to be good enough to be an actor, I don't know if my skin will be smooth enough, my teeth white enough, my waist small enough. It's so much fear that I have, fear I don't know how to control.
Maybe I'll grow out of it. I don't know, I've had it as long as I can remember.
I didn't write this for pity, I didn't write this for compliments. I wrote this so that other people, people who struggle with this, boys, girls, everyone in between, anyone who struggles with this, knows they're not alone. And even I with all my crazy acts and stupid stories, I fear how I look. It drives me mad. Yet I persist, and so can you. I believe in you.
Thank you for reading.
I love you.
-Bailey S. Fox
I've always admired the audacious styling of such rock stars such as David Bowie or Prince, but perhaps I feel I lack the physique, no one wants to see a 190 pound hairy kid wearing skin tight clothing. No one is fighting for me to wear less than I do already. No one wants me to wear less.
I only wear a certain type of jeans because it's the type I've decided makes my legs look the least misshapen and fat. I often adjust my sitting position to make my thighs look less large. I never look forward to swimming in mixed company because I'm afraid of what other people are going to think of how I look. I spend at least twenty minutes choosing an outfit trying to find one that I like in the morning. Clothes that perhaps yesterday I loved today make me feel frumpy and fat. I'm afraid every day people are going to find me fat and unappealing. Which is stupid, I have a girlfriend, I shouldn't care about what I look like, and yet I do. I agonize over it.
It's why I so often post pictures of myself. My vanity is a way of covering my crippling body image issues. I never dress down in public. A handful of people have ever seen me in sweatpants. I need the positive feedback on my looks to feel good looking.
My prom photos while wonderfully taken made me think I look like I've gained weight (which I probably have, I don't know) and I look awkward. There are old pictures of me more acne ridden than I am that if I saw today would probably cause me to break down crying. I'm so obsessed with how I look that it makes me late in the morning. I often go through three or four outfits until I can stand to go out. I have a long torso and shirts that fit me around often aren't long enough so if I raise my arms my hairy and chubby belly shows itself and often invokes some form of response, this response often makes me want to curl into a ball and die.
I want so badly to dress more outrageously, but there is this tightness in my chest that blossoms when I imagine people's responses. Clothes shopping with me is often an event or an ordeal as I constantly ask and crave feedback waffling back and forth on choices and I'm really probably annoying to shop with.
I once saw a video of me and the view of me from the side made me feel so bad I put in hourly reminders into my phone to fix my posture so I'd avoid looking less like an idiot. I doubt anyone cares how I look from the side but me, I'm sure no one but I care, but I am afraid that people do. And it kills me.
It feels like modern fashion is tailored for men with tiny waists and small thighs and dainty ankles. It feels like the only non mockable men on the beach are the ones who have flat stomachs. I can't dress in the trendy fashions, they don't come in my size, they don't fit my body. It's bullshit. But it's bullshit that paralyzes me with fear. So what's more ridiculous, the system or the boy who is trapped by it even if he knows it's bogus? I know people don't care that much, yet I still can't bring myself out of the shadow of my own god damn fears. It's painful as hell.
I'm not sure it will ever go away. I usually have to take my glasses off to talk to people because I'm afraid of how I look in them, even though I love them.
I'm afraid of how I look, I don't know if I'm ever going to be good enough to be an actor, I don't know if my skin will be smooth enough, my teeth white enough, my waist small enough. It's so much fear that I have, fear I don't know how to control.
Maybe I'll grow out of it. I don't know, I've had it as long as I can remember.
I didn't write this for pity, I didn't write this for compliments. I wrote this so that other people, people who struggle with this, boys, girls, everyone in between, anyone who struggles with this, knows they're not alone. And even I with all my crazy acts and stupid stories, I fear how I look. It drives me mad. Yet I persist, and so can you. I believe in you.
Thank you for reading.
I love you.
-Bailey S. Fox
