Searching for the magic that is self Love

I seem to find myself putting my thoughts out there for the world a lot these days in one sight or another. The question of the day is to figure out how to love our selves, which at least for me seems to be the impossible dream. I really don't know why as I am a very compassionate and loving person I believe and have a deep urge to help others and a love for my country and life in general. On the other hand I can't figure how I am too love and accept myself when no one in society takes a look at me and accepts me or cares what I am on the inside, but instead automatically sees me and acts as if I make them sick to look at. I in turn stare in the mirror searching so hard and trying to look and see what i know is good and loving inside myself and all I see is the fat and truthfully in makes me sick as well to have to look at and even sicker to live inside of held so tightly by the pounds of fat that surround the real me that wants freed from this prison so badly.
Most all that truly take the time to know the real me love me and see my compassion and it is enough for them to love me and see past the fact yet I live within the walls of the fat and know me better than anyone, but I seem to not be able to get past the fact that I was not good enough to be loved or supported and embraced with the important things like self worth, or self esteem as a child and though I would try so hard I never seemed to be able to be good enough and now as that grown man struggles that same little boy cries out for answers begging to know that he did so wrong and why food was both his best friend and worst enemy.
Maybe my problems are so deeply rooted because even food, which most people even with this terrible addiction agree was always comforting was not for me. My step dad found ways to torment me with food as well. I remember the refrigerator having chains put around it because I would get something extra out between meals trying to comfort myself. I remember cupcakes filled with snuff and being forced to eat them and then being sick for a few days. Then you flip that around and guess what we go to Burger King every few months and have a family outing and food is the reward again. So many mixed signals I just must realize I may never be able to silence the cries of that little broken boy inside and that food is not the best choice to muffle his cries.
My focus must be on the man that is here now and someway finding a way to love and accept who he is and not judge him by the fat that imprisons the real person behind the fat that is so easily used as the gauge by the world to judge the person. Well the thoughts are fading for a while so I guess it is enough crying over spilled milk for now, but I do in advance ask all who might read this blog to say a quick pray as I continue the fight to find the answers and the love for myself that must be found to ever truly overcome the demons of the past that haunt me so deeply as I work so hard to silence the broken child that resides so deeply within the depths of my soul.