Ah dear me. As you know, one of my goals in California was to lose weight. Blah, blah blah. It didnt' work and probably ruined many days with frustration and disapointment. Out of lack of choice, I've started down a new road of acceptance. I've been struggling, like most every other woman on the planet with this stupid, stupid issue ever since I can remember. Being thin doesn't bring self-acceptance, I've been there and it didnt' help one bit.
I have no plan of loading up on jogging pants and a motorized-cart so I can fill up on cheesies and bread sandwiches (bread between bread of course. I have never eaten this by the way, and never will.) I actually already eat very healthily. I can't explain why I'm fatter than not but there you go. I'm accepting it. Buying some new clothes that fit, continuing to eat well and trying to just be generally more active in a pleasant way, in ways that make me feel good. If I was unsure about this strategy, it's really being cemented by my co-workers. Women in their late 30's and early 40's. One never eats. Period. One has a tendancy toward plumpness like me and is trying diet pills and a 700 calorie per day limit ( a child couldn't live of off that.). She has also convinced herself that oranges make her fat and only one specific type of apple doesn't. Another has lost lots of weight by doing 40 minutes of aerobics, weight training and then another 20 minutes of aerobics, five days a week and eating nothing but spinach salad for lunch. We are grown women. It's perfectly acceptable, it would seem, to treat ourselves like some sort of powerless lab rat, employing all sorts of bizarre experiments, just to lose 10 or 20 pounds. And that's all we're talking about here, 10 or 20 pounds. I've not resorted to such odd methods as these, but it's consumed(pardon the pun) me enough that I'm no different, psychologically, if I go on obsessing this way.
The mirror is the enemy. It's always upon looking in the mirror that my resolve shatters and the evil, crazy, weight obsessed moron in my head chips in her "opinion"(and it's a her of course, because we all now that only certain gay men really want us to be as skinny as we are trying to be and for some crazy reason, women enforce it worse than anyone else). If anyone ever talked to me like that voice does, I would punch them in the teeth. I know it's nothing new. I know entire cities could be filled with essays and self-help books and manifestoes etc. on the topic. What can I say.
I can say that I bought some new clothes that fit, so I don't feel like a stuffed sausage and I will put them on and avoid the mirror and try to take good care of myself and see how it goes. I have a feeling that I may prove to myself that I can feel good. I must work hard to punch that voice in the teeth and the throat until she can no longer tell me I don't look good. I just want to feel good. Since I know being thin does not feel good if you are killing yourself mentally or physically to get there, I'll try a new route. I can already feel the rising panic and indignation of the witch woman in my head, but she is on my shit list now and I dare say, I will be the death of her.
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