Go on girls. Be a little delusional.


Mirror, mirror, full of lies.

Why didn’t you tell me about my thighs?

I’m pretty sure I have an eating disorder. Although, I don’t think there’s a name for it. In an attempt to share this with my husband a few days ago, the best way I could describe it was like anorexia – in reverse. I’m unsure if anyone will be able to relate to this, but I’ll try to explain.

At this point in my life, I’m overweight, and more so now than I’ve ever been. I know it, I confess it and I’m taking steps to fix it. I think we’ve all been there, and we know that it takes weeks, months, sometimes years before we wake up and smell the coffee. We live with ourselves every day, so sometimes it’s three bigger pant-sizes later before we realize we’ve let ourselves slip just a tad. It’s completely normal.

However, it occurred to me a while ago that my long journey to BigBootyVille might be a little less than completely normal.

When every gal out there finishes primping, she checks herself in the mirror before venturing out. We all do it. And, as I admitted before, I am totally aware of all those extra pounds I’ve packed on in recent years. But when I give myself the obligatory final check every day, for the life of me I can’t find that fat-ass anywhere. I look and look, but all I see is a thin little hotty peering back at me. Logic tells me I’m obese. My mirror tells me there must be something wrong with my scale, and that those jeans make my butt look super tiny.

My morning routine.

My morning routine.

It’s anorexia in reverse. Those suffering from that terrible disease find it impossible to see a thin body reflecting back towards them. I find it impossible to see a fat one. Either way you slice it, it’s delusional and it’s denial in its truest form.

I eat what I want, although I shouldn’t. I drink what I want, although I shouldn’t. I have an unhealthy, counterproductive lifestyle, and all because that lying bitch in the mirror this morning told me what a sexy beast I am. Her deception is a major contributor to my current state.f264b660620d4ed77773c47a787981fa.jpg

But, she is also a major contributor to my self-esteem. She’s a comfort and a friend and the reason I can face the world with my sass and confidence in tact. However, she’s not perfect. My super-hero of self-confidence most certainly has her kryptonite, and it comes in the form of a camera.

All it takes is one innocent picture of myself posted on a friend’s Facebook wall for that beautiful bubble to burst. In the flash of a camera bulb, I am snapped right back into reality. That heavy girl I was searching for in the mirror earlier that day finally reveals herself, and I’m left feeling confused and terribly betrayed. Where did that voluptuous vixon go? And who the hell replaced her with that heffer?


Turns out, ignorance really can be bliss.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe that a person’s size has anything to do with their actual beauty. I’m not superficial. I’m not lost to total vanity. But it is disconcerting when you truly do not recognize yourself in pictures. It’s also frustrating.

So, in a battle for my self-esteem, who wins? Is it the irrefutable photographic proof or the less-than-accurate delusional reflection? On one hand, it’s great to love the body you see when staring into the mirror. On the other hand, it’s not entirely healthy to possess a level of denial that can eventually be detrimental to your health. I’ve thought about this a long time, and I’ve come to a conclusion.

By unanimous decision, the mirror freaking wins.

That’s right folks, I voted in favor of delusion. The choice was easy. I figure if I’m rational enough to know that I need to get healthier and I’m aware logically that I need to shed some weight, then I’m emotionally savvy enough to handle the somewhat skewed reflection in my mirror. Just because I’m battling my inner donut-devourer doesn’t mean I have to hate myself in the process.

Believing that would would be believing the ultimate lie.

Maybe I have a form of eating disorder, maybe I don’t. But if I do, there are far worse kinds to have. And to be honest, I kind of wish my variety was contagious. I hope that other girls, other women can relate to how I feel. My desire is for all of you to have the type of mirror that tells you everyday that you’re the fairest of them all. And I pray that girls everywhere develop my particular strain of delusional disease.



I love myself like a fat kid loves cake, and I’m okay with that.


19 thoughts on “Go on girls. Be a little delusional.

  1. I have the same disorder – and I am OK with that. I, too, am working on the fitting into the clothes thing – that’s my measure. In the meantime, I’ll take all the encouragement my mirror can give me.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I’d just like to encourage one more step in this chain of association. Maybe seeing fatness and hotness as simultaneously possible isn’t delusional at all. Your hotness is not determined by the number on the scale. Beauty is not defined by a number on a scale. (Your health is not determined by the number on the scale, either, but that’s a conversation for another day.) In my opinion, seeing your body as beautiful and miraculous is NEVER delusional, no matter how close or far that body shape may be from the cultural norm.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Well stated Sherri, and I am in complete agreement.

      I suppose I just feel seriously dissociated with the version of me I see in pictures. As far as how I feel about actual beauty, well that’s a whole other blog post. Suffice it to say, I feel your comment was spot on. 🙂


  3. I can totally relate- Lots of times I think I look fine in the mirror but then I see a picture of myself or I look at the scales and I get depressed. From now on I’m just going to focus on being able to fit into my old clothes and being healthy- how we see ourselves is much more important than how a lens sees us anyway! 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I had this, except I never used scales. I looked in the mirror every day and saw my chubby but pretty average size 14 for years, thought clothes were getting smaller and I was staying the same – lol!

    It took seeing a photo of myself and crying for 3 hours in the sad realisation that I was a LOT bigger than I thought I was, and then I got my rotund arse down the gym.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. At first, I could totally relate….then you got to the sexy beast part and nope, not a clue about how that goes. My mirror does not tell me such wonderful lies, ever. And, I agree….I wish I had your mirror 🙂 But, this is such a great post for so many reasons, not the least of which is that you are a gifted story-teller and write beautifully.


  6. Thanks so much for your kind comment, CC. We all need to hear those now and again. And you should get that mirror checked. It is obviously NOT doing its job properly. 😉


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