The first memory I have of feeling badly about my appearance, was around the age of nine. I was on holiday at the time (one of these Butlin type packages - where the kids get palmed off onto the disco floor whilst the parents have a drink and sit there looking on!) Up until then, I was just the cute kid with the freckles - the type of girl who the adults found amusing - the goofy kid with the grin! Although something happened that night, which would change all of that forever: That evening there was a talent contest for all of the kids, and me, being the sort of girl who loved to be up there in the limelight, had spent half of the day getting ready for it.
My cousin who had sat watching me getting ready (watching my dad scrape back my hair for me - high up into a pony tail) suddenly began to grin! I caught her from the corner of my eye, and immediately started to panic, what is she grinning at?! And there it was - 'You look bald with your hair tied up like that!' She said. My heart sank. Nobody had ever really commented on my appearance before that, and I felt utterly mortified! I felt utterly disheveled, and taking part in a talent contest was the farthest thing on my mind - the last thing I wanted to do! Though, I had no choice, my name was already down and plans had been made.
As I stood there on stage, the lights were suddenly dazzling me and I felt panic-stricken, lost, physically sick, and could barely stand up from shaking. My performance was meant to be a song (I'd spent most of the day reciting it, over and over in my mind) though now the words wouldn't come out, in fact I recall having to ask the judges if I could start again! Don't ask me how, but I managed to get the song out, and even managed to come second. Though considering there were only a dozen children taking part, you can understand it really wasn't a consolation! More the fact, when I realized who had come first. My cousin!
It was then I looked to my cousin and realized that she was much 'cuter' than I was, and that in these types of competitions, judges tend to sway more towards the cuter of the kids - 'AWWW aren't they sweet, couldn't you just eat them all up!' type of thing. I went back to my chalet that night, a different person! After that, I was more reserved, the energy I had felt up until then had slipped away somewhere, and I wasn't entirely sure where. If at all I even noticed it, at the time.
This, however, was just a gentle tap on the shoulder, in the scheme of things! I lost my confidence, sure, but I had a lot of friends, and lots of things to keep myself occupied with. I was a regular little tomboy at this point! I'd bike ride round to my friends house every night after school (my best friend at the time) and we'd spend the evenings getting up to mischief, or venturing out into the woods and pretend we were in the cadets! Silly things really. Until one day (when I was eleven I think) I turned up at her house and she was sat in front of the mirror, glossing her lips with lipstick. I was fascinated of course, I'd never tried on makeup before!
My friend was always discovering things before me, that's just how things were - and as I sat there watching her painting her face with all sorts of gorgeous colours, I thought she looked beautiful. Probably the most beautiful girl in the world! at least in that moment, anyhow. I was excited, maybe I'd look beautiful too if I coloured my face in! Although my eyes were a different colour to hers, and I had a different complexion! With my pale skin, dark freckles and piercing blue eyes. adding bright colours only made my face look more multi-coloured! On top of that, I wasn't pretty anyway. Matter-of-factly, I just wasn't going to turn heads. I felt bad, of course; and again I lost another little piece of me that day.
Although I continued to focus my attention on other things, I became engrossed in a world of make-belief, of dreaming. I'd sit there in class with my elbows on the desk, and my head in my hands, whilst dreaming of one day being pretty. I actually believed that one day I might grow up into a swan! It never happened though, unfortunately. It did, however get me into a lot of trouble with my teachers, and I was often hauled up in front of the class for my day-day dreaming, or asked to repeat the last sentence the teacher had spoken! Yep, I was that kid that would sit staring blankly into space the entire lesson!
The day that everything came to a climax, on the other hand, was when I was thirteen. I'd recently started a new school, and from day one I didn't fit in. It seemed that outsiders just weren't welcome here! I tried desperately to try and impress people, try to make them laugh, in fact I tried just about everything. Though in the end gave it up as a bad job, and retired instead to sit on my own at break times, and read books. Often I wouldn't even be reading the book I was holding, it was just a prop, a crutch, so that people wouldn't think I was sitting there with nothing to do - sitting there feeling lonely, as I was doing. Although I felt bad, I wasn't quite sure why it was, I felt I wasn't good enough, wasn't funny enough, wasn't clever enough, didn't have the right clothes, the right attitude! . Until that was one day after school while I was sitting on the bus waiting for my stop.
'Hey you' - A girl shouted from the middle of the bus. I looked round, just because someone was shouting, I didn't expect them to be shouting at me. Yeah you! You're a dead ringer for Miss,' the girl shouted at me. She was referring to one of my teachers, one who was definitely NOT attractive, in any way shape or form, appearance wise, or personality wise! If anything she was the opposite! The girl sat there, pale faces and flaming red hair, with a cold glint of spite in her eyes - laughing. My heart almost felt as if it was going to burst out of my chest! I couldn't breath, my hands felt as if they were covered in grease, my head was pounding, and everything was closing in on me - faces turned towards me, almost superimposed, closing in on me.
I thought I was going to pass out! I pretended to smile, shrug it off, turning my head to the window; though inside I was dying. I could feel my throat tightening up, and was barely able to stop myself from crying. That particular bus-ride seemed to last forever, though at last I reached my stop! I prayed that they'd leave it alone, and let me be, just let me get off without saying anything. It was naïve of me really though, of course they would - and they did. Chanting down the bus (now half a dozen joining in) they jeered me off the bus, it drove away and I stood looking at the pavement. I was hardly able to see it due to my eyes being so full of tears, and then I ran, I ran all the way home, head pointed towards the pavement the entire way.
Once home I ran upstairs into my bedroom and jammed a chair against the door. I grabbed the mirror from the wall and plonked it under the windowsill, on top of my cupboard, and sat there staring into it. I stared for a long time (the days were long at the time I seem to remember, and it didn't get dark until gone nine O'clock) aside of making a solitary trip downstairs for my tea - which I wolfed down within the space of ten minutes, I was sat in front of that mirror until it was dark! What's wrong with me? Why do I look different? Why do I look like Miss.? Why do I look UGLY? followed by (and most importantly) the question of What can I do to change it?!
The next day, after school, I disappeared into the kitchen cupboard, looking for something- anything to change myself with. And there it was - sand paper! Shuffling it up my sleeve so that Mum wouldn't spot it (she had eyes in the back of her head!) I retreated back to my bedroom and began to file my teeth down. It was a painful experience, the sound as I filed them down - the words 'nails' and 'blackboard' come to mind! The bits of sand kept breaking off into my mouth and I couldn't help but swallow some. I wanted them as small as I could get them, and only stopped once I began to hit the nerves, because my teacher, the one I'd been compared to - had large front teeth, like me! All in all, I took off about 4-5mm from all of my teeth, less from the back ones, although all of my teeth felt the pain of the sandpaper. I'd decided that if I sanded down the back ones too, it might make my jaw look less prominent! My sister noticed the difference and I felt contented; however, back at school nothing really changed. There was an isolated compliment from my one and only friend, but it made no difference to me. I took it as it was - an isolated compliment.
Thereafter, every day after school I'd sit in my room -door closed, listening to my music in front of the mirror. Day-dreaming, thinking up new ways to change my appearance! Talc-in-powder to cover my freckles (I'd not discovered foundation at this point), sandpapering my skin, tweezering my eyebrows into non-existent wisps, anything I could think of just to change how I looked. Though nothing was good enough, nothing made even the slightest dent to how I was feeling inside! I began to stop going out, school was the only place I ventured out to, and over time even that I began to avoid.
To cut a very long story short, I spent half of my school years hiding in the woods, walking through fields, hiding in my attic, pretending to be ill (although that one would only work so many times! After a while my mum was starting to become suspicious!) I'd lurk round the corner waiting for the mail man, so I could keep the letters of absence from my mum! I was terribly lonely; my life was growing more and more isolated by the day. To make matters worse, my sister was so much prettier than I was! I'd look at her and feel a hundred times worse. Why did I have to get the short straw? I'd think, over and over again. I suppose for a while I even resented my sister - although it was short-lived, I just couldn't help myself.
There's truly too much to put into a thread - so I'll keep it short now. To summarize, a decade later and I now find myself living as a recluse. I'm 24 and have had my nose revised seven times up to date, eight come January of 2007! I went on to have liposuction, lip enhancement, veneers and skin lasering (amongst having my cheeks enhanced - although that wasn't permanent). I'm still no happier now than I was back then. On the other hand, I do have a fiancé who seems to see the good in me, and have a family who loves me. Although I live my life as a recluse, I'm not bitter, and I try to look forwards to the good things in my life, rather than feel self-pity. Being unable to go out, is a truly awful thing -at first its your safe-house, but in the end it's a self made prison! Only you have the key, but the damn thing won't fit in the lock! (Metaphorically).
The girl at the back of the class is still me. I'm still a dreamer, always have been and always will be I guess. Though you know what, what's so wrong with dreaming? If I could give any shred of advice to a sufferer who finds themselves at such a low point as I am at right now. (Aside of advising them to try CBT therapy) - I'd say have hope! Without hope my life would be nothing, I wouldn't still be here. I have hope that one day my surgery may turn out for the best, that one day I might be able to write a book and get it published. Living happily ever after! Also on that note, I'd say try keeping your mind occupied! I've taken up writing, because although I may be confined to the space of four walls, when I write I can be anywhere I want to be! I could be horse back riding, ski-in, driving a lotus (which let's face it mostly only ever happens in your dreams!) I could be doing anything I like. As sad as it may sound, writing has been a life line to me. And despite the stereotype - I'm not boring, I don't work in a library, and I haven't swallowed a dictionary! I'm just your average Joe, so if I can do it, so could you! Aside of that, perhaps you may be able to find some other interest to take your mind away from your appearance (I know that seems impossible - really I do! Even when writing, I find myself wandering off into space and thinking about what I might look like should I change my nose again!) But even if you find something to keep you pre-occupied, just for a while, its something.
Just don't give up hope, is the best advice I can give, hope is what keeps people going. Think of the film 'Shawshank Redemption'! Where the prisoner is locked away for life in prison, of a crime he didn't commit! Its how it is when you have BDD, you feel cheated, and yet trapped. Its enough to want to end it all (believe me I've tried) but it's not the answer, because in the end there is a way out, you just have to have hope. One day everything will be better. I hope. Anybody who feels the same as I do, and of course, like the creator of this site does (I know she has suffered, and still does with BDD) please don't give up hope! Therapy helps an awful lot of people, and talking to others who feel the same! Whatever your hope, it will help get you through this, so hold on tight to it.
P.S thanks for taking the time to build this site, it's truly wonderful! Most sites I've come across are text-book, lots of quotes and facts, statistics, and general waffle. Not only has your site got depth, its interesting, fun, full of energy; and its written through a personal perspective! Who better to explain about BDD than a person who has actually gone through BDD themselves - who lives with it! There are many sites created by psychiatrists, analysts, journalists etc, however how can they possibly know how it feels to live with BDD?! They can't, and everybody with BDD is different, everybody suffers to different degrees, and finds different ways to help them. Labeling doesn't help anybody, as you've already mentioned, and unfortunately a lot of sites on BDD, tends to do this. It certainly didn't help me.
Many thanks
Best Regards
Sarah x
BDDHELP, As mentioned in the book, Overcoming Body Image Problems including Body Dysmorphic Disorder, by Rob Willson, David Veale, and Alex Clarke. 