Welcome to Shame Sandwich, where Megan feels equal parts shame and glee in sharing hilarious personal thought rants every Friday. Sometimes on shame, sometimes shame infused, and other times, nothing to do with shame. Enjoy responsibly.
FUCK A WELL HUNG HOT DOG THIS IS GOING TO BE ONE OF THE MOST VULNERABLE NEWSLETTERS I’VE WRITTEN TO DATE.
So I’m just going to rip the hymen band-aid and get right into it.
.
.
.
I’m terrified to tell show my boyfriend my bloated belly.
The above sentence might sound fairly insignificant to you but I can assure you it’s basically like getting an AIDS diagnosis to your self-esteem. Terminal edition.
Nurse: Hi, hello, are you sitting down?
Me: Um, does the shitter count? yes…
Nurse: So sorry to tell you this, but your test result came back, and your self-esteem is HIV positive.
Me: Please play WAP at my funeral.
Nurse: …ma’am…???
ARE WE ON THE SAME LEVEL NOW???
Nope, don’t think so.
Because you’re currently recovering from the above exchange because I love to use humor to cope and/or deflect.
And… this is actually a very serious matter.
Hence the humor and deflection.
I suffer from debilitating bloating. I’m honestly not sure when it started but I know I’ve had it going on 12+ years now. (I somewhat jokingly wrote about this last June. Spoiler alert: the yogurt didn’t help).
TWELVE PLUS YEARS.
😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
I quite honestly look like I’m 6 months pregnant 60% of the time.
I know you’re going to be tempted to think I’m exaurating… but I’m not fucking exagurating. 💔
The other 40% of the time I look like I’m 4-5 months pregnant.
And… I’m DEEPLY ashamed of my bloated belly.
The only person who’s ever seen my natural abdomen area is my daughter. (Wait, I texted a picture to
because she’s my sister from another mister and #GetsIt 😭)I’ve spent the last 12+ years of my life sucking in my bloated belly.
And, my dear reader… it has fuuuuuuucked me up.
Not only does sucking in your belly area constantly restrict your breathing and fuck up your ribcage, it also means you’re clenching your pelvic floor area constantly to the point where you can no longer relax your pevlic floor… basically ever. Which is awful and shameful and basically several newsletters’ worth of topics on its own.
And to make it even worse? Whenever I mention I have “bloating” issues, I largely get an eye roll and the “yeah, yeah says the fit-strong-attractive bitch 😒… you look fine!!!”
Nobody understands that the “fit, strong, attractive bitch” can have body issues, too.
Bitch… I GOT MASSIVE BODY ISSUES.
😭😭😭😭😭😭
→ I’m deeply ashamed of looking like I’m pregnant when I’m not.
→ I’m deeply ashamed of how hideously un-sexy my bloating is.
→ I’m deeply ashamed of having something wrong with me.
→ I’m deeply ashamed of being a grown ass woman and not being confident enough to be honest about this ‘condition’ with people, and instead suck it in constantly.
→ I’m deeply ashamed at the thought of having my partner see me like this.
.
.
.
And… I don’t want to keep living like this anymore. 😭
And so… I’m going to do the one thing that I’ve been terrified to do for over a decade:
talk about it, vulnerably
Which feels about as comfortable as getting fist fucked with brass knuckles.
at least with strangers* on the internet, real life is another beast
*except many of you in the comments sections don’t feel like strangers anymore and I’m oh so grateful 😭
And not just talk about it, I’m about to show REAL photos of my belly.
🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣
GULP.
First, me sucking it in. Because I need you to understand how painful this is for me, and the degree to which I suck it in. If I’m out in public around people, I suck it in constantly. And because I’ve done that for years, I still do it almost constantly at home subconsciously, too. 😭
Next, you’ll see the real hideous “natural” me. 😭
.
.
.
ME SUCKING IT IN:


MY ACTUAL BELLY:



The thought of showing my boyfriend my REAL unsucked-in belly is truly mortifying to me. Or showing it to anyone IRL, honestly.
How sad is that?
And yet it’s where I’m at.
God I absolutely HATE this is where I’m at. 😭💔
I FEEL LIKE SUCH AN UGLY PATHETIC DEFORMED LOSER.
Like I’m only good and worthy and likeable up until you realize that I’m actually really ugly and have heavy baggage with exorbitant handling fees and they won’t fit in the trunk and I’m left at the curb until my face falls off.
Not only am I stuck in chronic bloating, I’m stuck in chronic shame of not letting people see these shameful parts of me.
The irony is not lost on me, either... Perhaps if I heal my shame, my bloating will be gone too????????
Le sigh.
I’m tired.
Tired, tired, tired.
This is heay shit for me to share.
It’s shameful to my core.
To be perfectly honest, I would love for this newsletter to be the one to go viral.
Becuase if I’m going to rip this band-aid off, at least then I could tell myself it resonated and therefore was worthy of being shared.
I’m desperate to be validated in these most intimate, shameful parts of myself. As horribly shameful as that is to admit.
Hiding my chronic, emotionally-and-physically-debilitating-bloating from the world is deeply shameful. You have no idea.
And then to share that with the internet only to be met with cold indifference?
God, that would cut deep.
Just when I think I’ve made progress on my shame, and being vulnerable…
I’m hit by a 72,752-pound semi truck carrying condoms ← I know, I think it’s weird as well and am placed on shame life support.
And let me tell you: IT SUCKS ANIMAL ASS.
😭😭😭😭😭
“Why am I like this??? I scream to no one in particular although I did get a rather strange look from the mailman JK I only shame spiral in the privacy of my home.
So yes, I would love validation. And then the shame loop repeats itself.
.
.
.
Christ’s toenail that was a lot of shame upchucking words on your screen.
107% of me wants to massively soften the above exchange.
I do not want you knowing how shamefully shallow I can be.
And? FUCK IT.
🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕
The only way out is through.
Wallowing in a dark room of shame is only going to get me more wallowing in a dark room of shame.
WHICH MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM AND SCRATCH AND SLIP OFF A FLAT EARTH ← TO BE CLEAR I’M NOT A FLAT EARTHER LOL OR SOME SHIT SO I DON’T HAVE TO FACE THE UNCOMFORTABLE FEELINGS THIS ARISES AT THE THOUGHT OF ACTUALLY GETTING OUT OF A DARKEND SHAME ROOM.
It feels like such impossible work.
And yet… fuck it.
I don’t care if I have to crawl in a hibernating bears ass crack to complete my mission, I’m going to shed the shame of simply being my motherfucking self. I don’t want to keep living like this.
Which means two things in particular:
ONE: I have to show my boyfriend. I don’t care if you’re atheist, please pray for me.
TWO: I have to change the internal dialogue in my head from “I’m always bloated”, “nothing ever works”, “I’m hideous because of this”, “I’m less worthy”, etc. to radically positive mindset beliefs (hugest shoutout to
for her role in shining a spotlight on the power of my inner dialoge):→ I am healing.
→ I am forgiving myself.
→ I am celebrating myself.
→ I am releasing shame.
→ I am open.
→ I am vulnerable.
🖤
Here’s to living in alingment with our truest selves, because anything less than is rat shit.
Hope your weekend is less bloated than mine fucking amazing!!!!!!
-M
p.s. - To be very clear, my man is a wonderful man… I cannot imagine him being anything but kind, and yet… yes I’m still fucking scared to show him this hidiously chronic unsexy bloating. And even if the “worst case scenario” came true and he was like “BITCH YOU SO UGLY I CAN ONLY TAP THAT FROM BEHIND AT MIDNIGHT” ← to be clear he would never speak to me like that!!! lol only my mind demons being like that I would dump his ass and move on. Because even though I’m deeply ashamed that I have this bloating, deep down I still believe that I’m deeply worthy. And this bloating doesn’t define my character. And I would never stay with a man who thought otherwise. FUCK!!!! 🥹 This lil pep talk actually was massively helpful to me. Thank you higher self Megan. 😭🙏
p.p.s. - Regarding the actual bloating itself, I swear *everything* I eat makes me bloated. Drinking water in the morning makes me bloated. And yes that makes me hate my life. I’ve tried various elimination diets, eat clean, etc. and yet still suffer. Not sure if it’s SIBO, Endo Belly (Endometriosis) or just a “unbalanced gut”... Whatever it is, I’m ready to give my whole self healing. I am worthy of that. And I am healing. 😭🙏
p.p.p.s. - If you suffer from something like this or can relate to these feels, I’m sending you the biggest hug!!! 💝
From the bottom of my tiny tits, thank you for being here. If this made you feel, it would mean the world if you could tap the lil ‘heart’, leave a comment or share this. 🖤
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Hey… also look pregnant all the time. Have serious digestive issues that cause my stomach to inflate like a balloon- it can be very painful. In my case I know what causes it - certain fibres like avocado and quinoa and dairy and carbonated stuff and emulsifiers and stabilizers and a whole lotta stuff. But not water. Yay!
I ended up going to a high end (for me) shop where the assistants pull clothes off the rack and hand you things you’d never usually wear. Wide leg heavy cotton pants (what no yoga pants? Nooooo….!) and a loose linen blouse (but I love my tanks! Nooooo….!) that basically increased my upper and lower size so my waist would look like the smallest part of me. It looked amazing. It felt really good. I no longer try to wear Lululemon and Aritzia and Michael Korrs. Fuck ‘em. (Ok my watch is Michael Korrs - the stuff is pretty dammit!)
There’s nothing wrong with the appearance of your body! You look great, belly and all. But you may want assistance dressing for the one you have rather than the one the world said you should have. Kick start your new acceptance of your beauty. 🤗
Yeeep unfortunately we were taught from a young age that our worth depends on our looks. These things are hard to 'reprogram', but it is possible ❤️