I'm hatin' my reflection, I walk around the house tryin' to fight mirrors, I can't stand what I look like
I have had a love-hate relationship with my body.
Standards of beauty are arbitrary. Body shame exists only to the extent that our physiques don't match our own beliefs about how we should look.
I'd feel better about myself if I did stomach crunches, but I don't.
Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.
I am not too keen on my nose, I don't like my knees, I hate my ankles, I am unsure about my behind, I don't like my legs at all. I am not too sure about my chin, my forehead is a bit dodgy. But, overall, I can live with it.
I didn't look like Rihanna. I was a bit chubby. I had puppy fat. I had a moustache. I didn't want to have lips; I didn't want a bum. I grew out of it, but I feel like everyone went through that phase of wanting to be skinny.
Some people who think they are in unhappy marriages are just in unhappy bodies.
For all of my life it was the size of my rear that caused me the most hand-wringing, but in this nearly-50 zone it is my stomach that is the problem. It seems to have broken free from its moorings and there is no knowing how far it will roam.
I am not even trying to become size zero. My problem was that I hated to see myself putting on weight when I could see others around me slim and trim and looking great. It was affecting me mentally.
I don't really know why I'm not thinner than I am.
I'm comfortable with my body but I don't like my bum - I think it's too big.
When a lot of people wake up in the morning and put on their underwear, the first thing they feel that day is terrible about themselves. When you see that your body is not what other people want, it can be really devastating. I have so many friends that I grew up with who have had serious eating disorders.
Whenever I go to L.A., the make-up artist or hairdresser will end up having a conversation about how fat they think they are, and I really just can't take it seriously at all.
Most women are dissatisfied with their appearance - it's the stuff that fuels the beauty and fashion industries.
I do have body-image issues, just like everyone else. I mean, I wish I had bigger boobs. And I hate my butt. I want an onion butt - you know, a butt that'll bring tears to your eyes?
I don't like my physique at all.
Being surrounded by supermodels' bodies was triggering to me.
When I get older, I don't think I'll like to have wrinkles, or a big jelly belly. I cannot have it.
It sucks being fat, you know.
I hate my stomach. It's impossible to get it flat, and the area around my belly button drives me crazy.
I have to be careful not to get a paunch - I'm so skinny that if I put any weight anywhere, it'd be there, and I don't like a bulge. I wouldn't mind if it went on my bosom, but it doesn't.
I go to the gym a lot, and I see these guys, these young actors or models there, really punishing themselves - I mean, just killing themselves. And then I'll see one of them on a billboard, with the artfully messy hair, looking as though it's just natural and easy to have a body like that.
The time will come when you will hate the sight of a mirror.
I hate the sound of my voice. I can hear it from a mile away - it's nasally. Why do I talk like that? It freaks me out!
