Dissatisfaction with one’s appearance is not abnormal in itself, but in individuals suffering with BDD the distorted perception of oneself is extreme enough to impede their functioning in day to day life making it a candidate for a serious mental condition.
Researchers Lambrou, Veale and Wilson hypothesized that individuals suffering from BDD might be prone to making such negative judgements of their own appearance owing to a heightened sensitivity to aesthetics in general.
We all have our flaws, but some of us are more keenly aware of them than others.
Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) affects about 1.7% of the population and is characterized by an enhanced awareness of one’s physical appearance, specifically the perceived negative aspects.
but I just wanted to share a really terrible experience with a doctor today.
i look in the mirror and see these monster thighs that i can feel jiggle every step...
Our Website editor will then review the content and, with reference to criteria designed to safeguard your wellbeing and the wellbeing of other users, decide either to contact you or post it straight on the website with an opportunity for others to comment. I lacked a father figure but had an older brother who was adored and preferred over me. If I could only make myself appear a certain way then I would be okay. I wore thermals underneath my clothes to bulk me out; I hid behind layers of make-up.
I was at primary school when I first started thinking that I was too skinny and awkward-looking. I spent my childhood years feeling depressed, and started to believe that the key to happiness lay in my looking a certain way. I wore my hair a particular way to disguise all that I saw wrong with me. I gazed in it secretly, because the monster was always gazing back; keeping me locked in a cycle of preening and face pulling. I would become quietly hysterical at the sight of a photograph of me. I had to conceal my true identity from the world, at any cost.
Somebody teased me in the playground, someone else insisted that I needed feeding or tidying up… I would fan out my hair on the pillow at night, hoping my mother would pop her head around the corner and think what a beautiful daughter she had. So, at the age of fifteen, when life should have been exciting and full of a sense of beginnings, of character-building experiences, I dropped out of school and, for an entire year, became a recluse.
Despite positive attention, friends, aptitude for some subjects, I became entrenched in my conclusion that I was not good enough.
I was stuck in a rut of negative thinking about myself, and consequently my development suffered.