I know I promised important social commentary about MTV and our nation’s youth, but(t)…
It’s official. I went to my parents’ house this past weekend and weighed myself on the only scale I trust. I’ve gained almost ten pounds. And every single one of them has gone to my butt. Oh, except the one or two that seem to have attached themselves as love handles.
This morning, I did something I haven’t done in months: I put on four different outfits before I found one I don’t feel completely disgusting in. (Actually, that’s not totally true. Outfit number two consisted of a new skirt that I couldn’t find a shirt to go with.) I usually only go through that many wardrobe changes when I’m getting ready for a date. The only time it happens in the morning is when I’m premenstrual or feeling huge. Before you even ask it: no, I’m not premenstrual right now.
In the midst of this current body image crisis, friends have told me I look fine. And I try to remember that people have told me before that they like my butt, even when it was bigger than it is right now. And I keep trying to remember that I liked myself a year ago, i.e. last time I was this size and weight. But no matter what argument I present to my irrational self, it wins every time by reminding me that three months ago, I looked and, more importantly, felt better than I do now. Back then, I felt good about myself and figured it was the result of being almost 30 and finally making peace with my body. But it’s all bullshit because here I am, 10 pounds later, feeling like absolute crap. A jiggly mass of crap.
So then I start thinking about what is different between now and three months ago. Am I eating more? No. Am I being lazy? No, I’m actually working out more frequently. The only difference I can pinpoint (Mom, you might want to stop reading now) is that I’m not having sex twice a day anymore. And what that realization brings is pangs of missing my ex. And I’m fucking SICK of missing him.
And you know what the worst part is? I went to the gym this morning! I usually feel great on days I go to the gym. My whole body feels tighter and I feel confident that I am doing everything I can to keep myself in top form. But today, I feel gross. Assy. Like I’m pushing maximum density.
So now, I’m at work, drinking mint tea for breakfast. I’m starving because my metabolism is so high from starting the day on a treadmill, but I feel so bad about myself I can’t make myself eat. Which is just a millimeter away from an eating disorder. And that makes me mad at myself, but not mad enough to eat a fucking bagel, or some blueberries, or a Slimfast shake.
The only thing worse than being crazy is knowing that you are and not being able to do anything about it.
August 30th, 2005 at 12:04 pm
Remember that this too will pass. For my part, I have at least one day a week where I feel so shitty about myself that the usual positive steps don’t make a bit of difference and make me want to either give up or push my type-a personality into overdrive. In these cases, I try to remind myself that it’s never a good idea to make decisions or come to conclusions about my self worth when I’m feeling depressed. It doesn’t always work, but at least it reminds me that how I feel today isn’t the sum of my selfhood and it always seems a little better after a cooling off period.
You are beautiful, Ms. Hick, in both the real and superficial sense of the word. I really hope you feel better.
August 30th, 2005 at 1:00 pm
Jesus Joe, did you read that crap out of a womans magazine or something? That’s pure unadulterated woman talk and I’ll hear none of it from a fellow tri-pod. Savvy? (by the way, what Joe said is true)
Hick, here’s two thing you need to remember. One: like Joe said, this will pass. Especially since you’re working out a lot and aren’t eating much. Two: getting fat let’s you buy new cloths. I’ve gained 15 pounds in the last five months and I’ve bought new pants, shorts and shirts to compensate. I suggest you spend your way through the doldrums. Trust me. It helps. Take it from someone who has gravy trained his way down the path of fat farther than most will ever go.
Oh yeah, I just don’t see the fat you’re talking about on you.
August 30th, 2005 at 8:26 pm
The sad thing is if you were here I’d probably offer you a world class chocolate chip cookie to make you feel better. But really, Ms. Hick, you make any room brighter and more energized by just occupying space in it. Sorry you can’t see it. All of us here in Hickville know it’s true and I bet your big city pals feel the same. I don’t offer weight loss or body image advice, having issues of my own, but I think you look healthy and strong and alive.