A week or so again, I posted this image on Instagram.
I was already doubting whether I should post it or not, as it’s not a flattering photo. Those shorts don’t fit me well and the baggy tank makes me look frumpy because it’s a size too big now.
But I posted it anyway, because we all have bad angles and I’m trying to love myself a bit more. I mean – I was starting to love myself a bit more.
You can tell that because I’ve started putting photos of myself on Instagram again. Photos of my full body.
I gained some weight over winter. For a few reasons. I was diagnosed with vertigo and basically on bed rest for a week and unable to exercise for even longer while I recovered. Before that, my gym closed without warning before that and I had to wait about 6 weeks for my new one to open – the good intentions I had of working out at home didn’t seem to happen.
When I felt well enough after the vertigo, I went back to the gym and was ready to post about it on Instagram again.
I use Instagram to log my workout, I used to post a shot of me in full length mirror, then photos of my heart rate monitor or machines with the distance/time I had gone.
These disappeared when I gained weight. They turned into photos of the machines and wrist only. Because I felt ashamed of myself.
I also had stopped wearing sleeveless tops and started wearing my baggy race t-shirts because I wanted to hide my body.
It wasn’t until the end of March that I had the confidence to swap them out for tanks.
It wasn’t until April I had the confidence to post photos of myself again.
I was seeing the changes in my body and although I wasn’t 100% happy with myself, I was happy enough to bring back the gym selfies.
To put my progress into perspective, look at this:
I’m proper self critical of myself, but even I can see a difference in the photos and admit I really like what I see. I worked really hard too, so I’m proud to share that photo.
So, where was I?
Ohhh yes. I was posting the photo me in the gym studio amongst some weights.
Many likes and kind comments later, I get a message on my Facebook page from someone I don’t know:
Lol ur getting fat.
What a flippant way to make someone feel so bad about themselves, right?
It’s less what they actually said. I mean, contrary to popular belief, I’m a rational being. I know I’m not fat. Also, I knew already it wasn’t the most flattering photo of me. I know I look slimmer now than I did 3 months ago. I know this person needs to suck a dick and shut the fuck up. Yarp. I went there.
It’s more about how people find it acceptable to comment horrible things about the way someone looks, about the shape and size of their body. It’s the assumption that:
To put yourself out there online, you must expect that some people will say mean things about you, don’t you know that?
Actually no. I shouldn’t expect to have someone send me messages calling me fat. Or saying I have hairy arms. Or telling me I need to get a bigger dress size – which has also happened before.
I don’t get on my high horse often. Probably because I’m too fat to even get on a horse. Lolz, jokes. But one thing that truly pisses me off is when people think it’s okay to troll, bully and slate people over the internet. Then say because they’ve shared it, they’ve asked for it. You know, like how girls wearing short skirts are asking to have their arses touched in a nightclub.
I don’t care how if the person is famous, has a million Instagram followers, or is just an average person like me. Nothing gives anyone the right to pass judgement on another person when they’re not asking for it. I don’t deserve that kind of shit and neither do you.
Even if I was getting fatter, then so what? I’m a self-aware adult and I think I’d be able to make that conclusion all on my own, thank you very much.
I’ve blocked the person who sent me the message because I don’t have time or energy for people like that.
It makes me dread what comments I’ll be getting next. Wonder when I’ll stop caring so much. I hope that’s soon. Because this person hurt my heart.