The opposite of anorexia

Whatever that would be called, I think I must have it. You see, with anorexia, you look at yourself in the mirror and no matter how thin you are, what you see is a horribly fat person, so you keep starving yourself to try and make that image change. But for me, no matter that I'm apparently a "big girl"; when I look in the mirror I see someone nicely-shaped and attractive, not fat.

I spend a lot of time trying to figure out what other people see when they look at me. I look around on the street and on the T and most of the folks I see are definitely much thinner than I am; so I'm constantly searching for a person my size so I can say, "Aha, that's how I look." Sometimes I see women who I think are my size, but then I look at my arms and my thighs and they look decidedly larger than the other woman's. Then I see women who I think are heavier than I am ... but I keep wondering if maybe I only think they're heavier than I am, because I can't admit how large I really am. I know I'm not so special that no one else is my size! At any rate, it is all very confusing and mentally exhausting.

I spent five minutes in the bathroom today trying to convince myself that I really am fat. I don't know if it stuck, though; I don't feel fat. It's not that I am oblivious to my weight gain over the years - all I have to do is find an old pair of pants to remind me that I used to be many clothing sizes smaller. But it doesn't bother me as much as it seems like the world around me is telling me it should: the advertisements for every exercise plan and gym, the body mass index, even my mother (who, Lord love her, makes comments about my weight out of a sincere concern for my health given our family's medical history, which makes it hard to be mad at her). I guess I ought to feel more guilty about my weight, but what I feel instead is pretty happy. I'm physically active, I try to eat well for myself and the world around me, and I have clothes I love to wear. Excepting the periodic morning when I wake up cranky, I really do feel pretty, and witty, and bright.

I remain perplexed. What bothers me, I suppose, is that I don't know if other people see the same good things I see when I look at myself, and I'm always trying to figure out how I look in their eyes.