When I first received the diagnosis, one of the hardest things that took a hit was my sense of how attractive I was to others. I remember being at the gym, working out, and wondering why I bothered to work out when I was going to be alone for the rest of my life, tainted and unlovable.
I wasn't always pretty. Actually, I don't really consider myself to be pretty- all I ever hear is how "sexy" I am, but never that I'm "pretty," or "cute" or anything like that. It was even worse when I was an awkward, skinny teen with braces and bad hair. And then I hit my 20's, got some marginal curves, and worked it like I owned it. The fellas seemed to like me just fine, although I doubt it was for my sparkling personality and stunning intellect. While I didn't think I was a supermodel, I knew I wasn't completely tragic.
Now I'm not so sure. I still wonder why the hell I'm bothering to keep myself in shape, as I'm not feeling very attractive. I actually cry every day in fear that I'm going to wind up alone. The only thing that keeps me going with my exercise program is the fact that exercise helps stress, and stress is an H trigger.
I'm still waiting for the moment when it will get easier, and I'll be lovable again. I don't believe it. At all.
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