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not dead, just restin’

20 Jun

I haven’t had much to say lately. It’s basically “go to therapy, try not to eat a whole pizza, sleep, work, try not to eat a whole pizza, sleep.” Not very interesting, that. And not very successful, either. Hormel owes me some stock options for the amount of pepperoni I’ve consumed in the last month.

And I guess all the shopping for bathing suits I’ve been doing lately hasn’t helped. I mean, I have to have one because, really, what’s the fucking point of a cruise if you aren’t going to get an all-over tan, yes? The best suit I’ve found so far is a fucking swim dress and I really can’t wrap my head around wearing such a thing. I was a competitive swimmer in high school (yes, the fat floats AND cuts through the water!) so the idea of wearing a suit for any reason other than the practical “covers my bits and doesn’t get in the way” reasons is very foreign to me. So I’ll probably go with a basic black Speedo because I’ve got a little pride left. (Not to say those that wear swimdresses do not. It’s just a weird thing for *me*!)

I’ve also got a new job prospect on the horizon that is guaranteed to add more stress (and more money) to my life. As fragile as I feel emotionally, I can’t ignore an opportunity that’s pretty much been dropped into my lap. None of that pesky coverletter writing or waiting to hear back about an interview, which are, to me, the worst things about job searching. The interviews I can handle and probably even the disappointment of not getting it. It’s working up the nerve to put myself out there over and over again. Anyway, I’ve been focused on that and it makes me crazy and therefore I eat. And lie around because I can’t focus on anything else but that. Needless to say, I haven’t really accomplished much.

But I did do some laundry! And I am still going to therapy! Apparently, I am supposed to give myself credit for doing those things and consistently getting out of bed every day. So, gold stars for me, I guess.

love your body. stop fixing it. it was never broken

25 May

A little quote from Eve Ensler there. I found it via Act Boldly and it’s rather appropriate for me right now, I think.

My last therapy appointment was all about how I see weight as a “problem”, not in the sense that it’s unhealthy but in that it makes me a bad and unworthy person. I know I am very wrapped up in the fact that I’ll never be happy until I am thinner. Which is great, except for the fact that I’ll never be thinner unless I figure out how to be happy as I am. What a giant cycle of suck that is but the sooner I deal with it, the better.

My best friend decided she wanted to go on a cruise for her 30th birthday so I said I was up for it. Of course, my first thought was “why can’t she wait until I am not so fat to want to do this? I am going to be the fattest person on the boat! How can I have a good time when I am so gross!” Because, really, that’s the healthiest reaction to the news I am going on an awesome vacation, right?

If I keep waiting around to do interesting and exciting things, I am never going to do anything. Which, I dunno, maybe that’s what I am trying to do. Completely avoid life at all costs. Because fat people don’t deserve to be happy, doncha know? How dare I go out and dance until dawn or lay in the sun without a care in the world? I’ve got work to do, here. I should be covered from head to toe and stuck in a dark corner until I am the right shape to dare show my face in public.

I mean, there where times in college, when I was out having a great time dancing and being goofy with my friends and some asshole felt the need to point and laugh at me. Or slide up to me on the dance floor and do the whole “it’s hilarious that a guy might want to dance with you!” schtick. I mean, the fuck? I am just minding my own business but somehow my fatness gives you the right to piss on my parade?

And now I pretty much believe that. I don’t have the right to go out and have a good time because I am worthless and people will laugh at me. Can you really blame me for believing that? It’s ingrained in us since *birth* that thin and pretty means you are better.

I have absolutely no idea how to love myself in this body because no one has ever taught me that I possibly could do such a thing. So now I am thirty and trying to erase years and years of learning how to hate myself. It’s just so damn hard, it makes me tired. Like, I just want to cry. My therapist was trying to tell me that my fattness does not disqualify me for things like dating. And I could not wrap my head around that. I don’t trust anyone who would want to date me. That’s so fucked up!! But even trying to think of being worthy actually brought tears to my eyes. Gah.

How do I learn to love myself? Tape affirmations to my bathroom mirror? Say nice things to myself all day long? It just seems like such an uphill battle, I don’t know what to do.

dear universe: stop making it MORE difficult

12 May

Okay, today? I’ve been desperately trying to make, if not super healthy, at least *better* food choices. For example, this morning, we went downstairs to the greasy BBQ place that has THE BEST hashbrows in the whole wide world. But I? I did not order them. I ordered scrambled eggs and, er, bacon. But still! Baby steps. So when I get back to my desk, I find that I have fried eggs AND a big pile of hasbrowns. Thankfully, a co-worker traded me eggs and I gave her my hasbrowns.

Then! At lunch, I ordered a half-order of hibachi chicken (which usually comes with yummy stir-fried veggies) and a California roll to go. When I got back to my desk, there was just chicken, no veggies and big pile of white rice. *head desk*

WORK WITH ME HERE! Jeez. *sigh*

like, omg

12 May

Therapist (I must think of a new name for her) wants me to journal about all the little freak versions of me that live in my head. I know I am not the first person to come up with this concept. And other people have blogged about it in much more creative and interesting ways. I don’t have the energy to go look for cute pictures of all the voices in my head. Heh. I’ll guess I’ll pick one of the *many* and go with it.

Let’s start with Teen!Me. I was reading Megan McCafferty’s retro blog yesterday and her posts from her journals as a kid and teenager are very reminscent of the Teen!Me. An unhealthy obsession with boys, self-indulgent whining about how very important really trivial things are, promises to CHANGE MY LIFE because I CAN BE A BETTER PERSON and a love of all things sparkly. That’s the Teen!Me that lives in my head.

She thinks she is really fugly and no boy will ever love her. And she can’t think of anything worse than not having a date for the dance. Her little corner of my mind is pink and glittery, with Justin Timberlake posters and lots of fuzzy pillows and pens filled with sparkly ink. She really wishes I would make my journal jazzier and she totally hates that I wear such boring clothes to work.

Teen!Me likes to talk about all the things she never got to do when I was actually a teenager. She lives vicariously through teen movies and romance novels. She’s pretty sure she missed out on the most awesome stuff that ever happens to a girl and she’ll never know what any of that cool stuff felt like. When she’s not drawing hearts around Orlando Bloom, she’s whining that I am wasting even more of my life and she wishes I would just shut up about how hard things are because she’s going to fail another Spanish test and it can’t possibly be more traumatic than being behind at work. She doesn’t get along with Mom at all but wants to call her anyway because sometimes a girl just needs her mommy.

She has a lot of really creative and crazy ideas for how my hair should look, what kind of car I should drive and what shoes I should buy next. She finds the fashion choices available to be cringeworthy and if she’s sees another old lady floral print cotten blouse with lace accent, she is totally going to hurl all over her bright-white K-Swiss, thank you very much. Teen!Me isn’t sure what she wants to be when she grows up, maybe a graphic designer or a writer, but she knows it isn’t what I am doing right now. She’s kind of pissed at me most of the time because I don’t put her neverending energy and enthusiam to good use. But she also hates cleaning her room and isn’t afraid to throw a tantrum to get out of it. This usually ends with me eating mint chocolate chip ice cream and watching 10 Things I Hate About You.

teeny, tiny baby steps

5 May

I had my first appointment with my therapist yesterday. I did a lot of research before I chose her and thank goodness I lucked upon a list of therapist that deal specifically with eating disorders and obesity. For some reason, it was very important for me to find someone like that. I guess it’s just a comforting feeling to know they at least *try* to understand.

Anyway, I met with her yesterday and she was very nice. I explained to her that I went from feeling and looking the best I ever had to this downward spiral I can’t seem to stop and I just can’t figure out why. She didn’t laugh at me, so she gets points there. She basically said it might get harder before it gets easier and I sort of already figured that out but it was good to hear. She also said that I should give myself credit for getting out and doing things like going to the dentist and making the appointment with her. Sometimes, I feel like an idiot for needed to be proud of myself for doing things that other people find completely normal and mundane but sometimes, it’s the only thing that makes me feel like a human being. She made it very clear she’s not one of those “oh, just pull yourself up by your boot straps!” people and that depression is not something that’s easy to work your way out of, especially if it’s to the point mine seems to be. I guess it was reassuring for a professional to tell me that I am not, in fact, insane and that this is not some weird thing I am imagining.

So I’ll be seeing her once a week for the timing being. It’s covered by my insurance, other than a $10 copay, so that’s good. Hopefully, I’ll be able to figure my way out of this eventually. I am not even focused on the food right now. Just getting out of bed and then maybe getting my brain working right again.

my soul could use a little good

26 Apr

I have a confession to make. Just five minutes ago, I was eating a piece of chocolate caramel cake with my hands while sitting in my car in the parking garage where I work.

So, this is what rock bottom looks like!

it comes in pints?!?

24 Apr

I went to the grocery store and bought $70 worth of food. Lots of fruits and veggies. Oh joy! I didn’t go completely crazy with the low-carb. If I decide to go that route, as it worked last time, I am going to need to ease into it. I figured I’d start by maybe not buying frozen pizza and ice cream. Score one for the good guys!

Then when I got home I cleaned out the freezer. So much wasted food, I almost cried when I had to throw it out. That’s why I tried not to go too crazy at the grocery store. I hate to waste food like that so I really need to be reasonable about things. But now I have a cleaned out freezer with only one little pint of chocolate ice cream to go with the fruit and veggies. Score two for the good guys!

However, since I was supposed to have done all that this weekend and instead spent it laying around on my rapidly expanding ass, I am going to call it even in the good v. bad struggle.

In other news, I should not had the giant chicken burrito and chips from Chipotle for lunch because now all I want to do is go to bed. I suppose getting 14 hours asleep would be a good way to keep my calories low. Heh.