Member-only story

Body Checking

Sarah McMahon
4 min readNov 11, 2019

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~2014

I glanced at my reflection in my full-length bathroom mirror and quickly looked away, repulsed by what I saw. My arms were fat, I thought. And I hated more than anything how stubbornly my stomach resisted the concave shape I was trying so hard to attain. I adjusted my stance so my thighs wouldn’t touch and absent-mindedly caught a piece of stomach flesh between my thumb and middle finger. I was secretly grateful for the cold fall weather that made chunky sweaters and thick scarves reasonable wardrobe choices. I combed my hair and lightly painted my face with makeup: eye liner, mascara, blush, powder, lipstick. Before turning out the bathroom light, I gently lifted my sweater, checking to make sure my stomach hadn’t shifted shape in the last ten minutes.

What anyone else would have seen was a young, thin woman. Short brown hair, blue eyes, a sharp face, jutting collarbones. Visible ribs. Bony arms. Many would label her “beautiful,” “fit,” or “healthy.”

What I saw was something entirely different. Someone with weight to lose, someone with large arms and a fat face. Soft corners that required tightening and taming and constant measuring. What I saw needed fixing. Negative thoughts about my body, and myself, hung heavily around my neck, constantly. I found things wrong with my body and checked them incessantly, afraid that my body would grow, willing it to shrink…

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Sarah McMahon
Sarah McMahon

Written by Sarah McMahon

Sales Professional | Blogger | Ultra Runner @mcmountain work email: sarah.mcmahon@ticketsignup.io personal email: sarahrose.writer@gmail.com

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