Quotes About Self-image

What a shock it had been when she began to grow invisible to men and they no longer registered her. How humiliating to discover time had abducted her favorite version of herself and replaced it with a saggy middle-aged woman instead.

Carrie Fay always says that nothing is really horrible unless it eats away your face.

Hey!" I said, indignation filling me. "I'm immortal! Doesn't that mean I won't get saggy boobs and gray hair? Because if it doesn't mean that, I want a refund—

I don't care what people say about my relationship I don't care what they say about my boobs. People are buying my songs I have a sold-out tour. I'm getting incredible feedback from my music.

I'm cute - and God I hate that. Because that's not cool. I'm like your niece, and nobody wants to date their niece. It's the chubby cheeks. The whole reason people voted for me on American Idol is because I'm an everyday, normal girl.

It's part of the human condition that we create stories about ourselves and about the world around us. Our stories are often filled with limitations, and we proceed to live our lives inside those limitations. Your

I never thought in a million years I'd be that healthy girl who wakes up every morning to exercise. After being called 'cherubic and chubby ' I'm rocking a bikini!

What would you rather be? 52 and look 52, or 52 and look like a 28-year-old lizard?

I'm not attractive; this, I'm quite aware, Is not a prepossessing head of hair; It's rough and reddy, like myself; and these Are not the most symmetrical of knees.

and I had passed forty the previous year, I could no longer expect to look young.

Vision is seeing down the road ahead, the road called "what God has given me to do." Image is how you want the world to see you.

But it was this very politeness that finally first began to grate upon my nerves, and hen to cause despair to rise up within my throat and threaten to choke me. For, no matter how smooth and correct the words issuing from the courtiers' mouths were, they couldn't quite hide the scorn or laughter in their eyes. And so, on the night of my sixteenth birthday, I saw myself as they saw me for the very first time.

They'd known, of course, that the burden of beauty was carried by women—after all, there were never any men in the waiting room at Dr. Youngblood's—but it was only when they'd relieved themselves of the weight that they understood how heavy it was.

Not fat, just not anorexic. She's soft in all the right places.

I'm William, but you can call me Sexy. Everyone does.

Weight loss does not make people happy. Or peaceful. Being thin does not address the emptiness that has no shape or weight or name. Even a wildly successful diet is a colossal failure because inside the new body is the same sinking heart.

Many things about our bodies would not seem to us so filthy and obscene if we did not have the idea of nobility in our heads.

To make astute people believe one is what one is not is, in most cases, harder than actually to become what one wishes to appear.

Retirement at sixty-five is ridiculous. When I was sixty-five I still had pimples.

Mahon's problem is that he has some very definite ideas about what a man's supposed to be and what a male werebear should be. It sounds great in his head and he gets carried away with it. He isn't shy about sharing his bear wisdom. Then his views collide with reality and they mostly don't survive. At the core Mahon isn't evil. He means well and he wants to be seen as a good person, so when people react badly to the nonsense coming out of his mouth, he gets shocked and has to readjust.

Vain. Terminal fear of T-shirts or any other garment that would cover his pectorals.

I kept thinking while I was pushing, I'm going to get huge. I'm going to get huge!" she said.

Can barely look in the mirror. I've been way too uncomfortable to try and shave and I've grown a thin, scraggy ginger beard which looks redder and thicker than it is, cause of the spots on my face. The yellowheads are repulsive enough, but it's two big boil-like fuckers on my cheek and forehead that cause the distress. They throb under the surface of my skin like a Peter Hook bassline, hurting my face every time I try to move it.

You show me someone who can't understand people and I'll show you someone who has built up a false image of himself.