I don’t enjoy looking at myself in the mirror. In fact, there was a period of time in my life where I couldn’t stand it and would avoid it at every conceivable cost. It wasn’t until recently that I could tolerate even looking in the mirror with the intent of looking at myself.

As an adult, I’m just now figuring out how to appreciate myself for who I am. But it isn’t easy.

I’ve nailed down why though.

First, it comes down to how the medical professionals in my life handled the fact I was overweight as a child and into my teenage years. For most of my preteen/teen years, I’ve been too “fat” for my height. Diet and exercise were never a forgotten topic at annual physicals, and it was always frowned down upon to express the difficulty of those things.

“You just need to try harder.”

“You’re not motivated enough.”

“[Insert food] tastes just the same as [insert food].” (It never did. That’s a lie)

“You just need to stay within your calorie limit.”

“Having anything remotely unhealthy is a treat that can only happen like once or twice a week, and even that needs to be lessened after a period of time.”

Do you know what all those things led to? A still overweight me and really unhealthy and disordered relationship with food. Despite me trying to convey that I had trouble maintaining any semblance of energy, or any motivation in general, medical professionals didn’t seem to listen very well.

You know what? That’s not okay. Because what they did was take a look at a number on the scale and determined that all issues I was experiencing were related to it. Everything could only be solved by a “healthy” weight, diet and exercise.

Screw that. Because of that number on a scale I went most of my middle and high school years with awful self-image and and the idea that all the things wrong with me were my fault.

The reality?

The executive function caused by my ADHD makes it hard to start and finish tasks. Especially when they’re tasks that I don’t necessarily want to do.

The Narcolepsy and Endometriosis make energy really hard to come by.

The Depression makes simply functioning that much more difficult.

I needed someone to listen to me, and all I really got was frustration and body shaming.

The other reason? Toxic “Biblical” teachings.

When you’re told enough times that overeating is a sin because you’re not taking care of your body, that does horrible things for your self-image and relationship with Christ.

When you’re told that you need to fit a certain standard in body and appearance in order to be “wanted” as a Christian woman, that does jack for your self-image and makes you wonder if you’re every going to be “wanted.”

When you’re shown that if you don’t follow these certain dress standards, you’re immodest and sinning, it hurts how you perceive yourself and makes you double and triple check that you’re not sinning; which, only increases the anxiety you’re already feeling.

When you’re told that you have to cover up because it “could” cause someone of the male gender to “stumble” it makes it clear that a man’s ability to keep it in his pants is more important than how you view yourself as a human being. And that you yourself aren’t nearly as important as those of the opposite sex.

When you’re told that wearing things that make you feel good about yourself for that reason alone makes you vain, it makes you want to run away from all those things and focus on not doing anything to be considered vain because God forbid, someone have another reason to judge you.

The worst part? Most of these can be attributed to someone else’s personal beliefs and not something concrete in Scripture.

But despite all of that, I grew. Now, I wear jeans that accent my features, that make me feel confident in who I am as a person.

I wear my hair in a way that gives me confidence, and doesn’t make me feel like I want to crawl out of my skin because it’s consistently touching my ears and neck.

And you know what? I keep my weight what it is because I can, and because I’d rather spend my time on this earth loving myself for who I am, and not for a standard perceived by society. And on the days when I feel bad about it? I remember that one of the kids I watch said they love to snuggle with me because “your belly is soft and squishy like a pillow.” If that isn’t a good reason I don’t know what is.