The 16-ton Gorilla in the Room, AKA, my body image

I have heard from countless therapists and recovered individuals that body image is the last hurdle to leap in recovery.  Which sucks.  I mean, really sucks.  Here I am, eating all kinds of foods, limiting exercise, tackling tough issues, and BAM! that damn 16-ton gorilla stares back at me in the mirror.  How the hell am I supposed to keep up all this hard work when I know how to magically transform that big mother-fucker into a cute little spider monkey?

The answer: I learn to believe that the 16-ton gorilla is cuter that the spider monkey.

Slowly, I am getting there; self-acceptance takes a lot of work.  And, I can get derailed very easily.  If I see someone who's really beautiful--BAM!  that damn gorilla!  If I see someone with long, lithe, toned legs--BAM!   Someone who's really thin--BAM!  BAM!  BAM!  I'm getting pummeled over here!  Gorillas can tear a human to shreds, and some days, I feel completely ravaged.

Here's the issue.  The type of primate doesn't matter: gorilla, orangutan, monkey, or funny-looking baboon.  What matters is how I am seeing myself. I notice that on most days, I'm pretty cool with myself.  I can put on shorts, wear tighter jeans, even don sleeveless shirts, and I feel okay.  Most days, I like the way I look and like my weight.  How is it that one moment, I'm cute little me, all head held high and loving this awesome body of mine, and next minute I'm Magilla Gorilla?

It's simple: confidence, or lack thereof.  I continue to equate outward beauty with inner worth.  If someone else is thin or beautiful, I can't possibly be thin or beautiful, too.  Right?

Wrong.  There is room for all beauty and all shapes.  Another person's beauty does not negate my own.  Not only that, but that person's beauty doesn't mean that I'm less capable, intelligent, or worthy.  When my 16-ton gorilla starts beating me up, what that really means is that I'm feeling self-conscious, and maybe I don't know why I'm self-conscious--maybe I'm feeling dumb or unliked or ostracized--so instead of figuring out the why, I allow my 16-ton gorilla to figure it out.  Only my gorilla NEVER figures it out.

In the end, I will evict the gorilla from my life when I learn to recognize my insecurities and not entertain these feelings by hating my body.  It's a scary thought: loving my body, my face, and my weight, but it's not impossible.  Imagine what I could accomplish if I didn't have that gorilla to stop me???

Cheers!