Did Cleopatra Self-Loathe?

Why do we, as women, beat ourselves up and self-loathe?  It's ridiculous!

Just to let you all know, I am NOT above being insecure.

I have loads of insecurities, and frankly, I'm tired of thinking about them.  I want to let them go, once and finally for all! 

A day in the life of...

• I wake up, and step on a scale. 
• I see a number I can't seem to control, and I hate myself! 
• I then add three pounds to the shameful digit, because I know my scale is off, and I feel strangely embarrassed.
• From that point, I make quiet, determined vows to partake in only wholesome, corrective food choices, and I pledge, ever-so-secretly, to do squats all day long!

(In my dysmorphic mind, I seem to forget that my child's thriving, that my partner's loving, or that I'm actually happy, and the glass of wine that now contributes to my morning bulge, tasted so nice the night before!)

Tell me please, why do I fret over a blasted eight pounds? 

I have loads of gorgeous girlfriends that I talk with, and they're equally discouraged by pretend imperfections that don't matter, that aren't even apparent!

My question, did Cleopatra self-loathe, or is obsessing over one's appearance an altogether new, female phenomenon?  Have women through all ages felt dissatisfied with themselves?

My self-hatred in particular, became obvious to me a few weeks ago, while visiting my partner's family in Maryland. 

I saw a photo of myself taken when I was twenty-four.  It was a time in which I vividly remember disliking every last inch of my physical self!  I hated my curly hair.  I thought my skin was bad.  I felt fat!  The list goes on...

Really though, I was beautiful!  That might sound slightly egotistical, but I looked at the picture, and I didn't recognize myself?! 

I wish I would have enjoyed it!  I wish, looking back, I wouldn't have been so concerned with changing myself!

I really want to start LOVING, to stop HATING, and I hope to encourage other women to do the same.