December 11, 2012 § 1 Comment
Apparently I’ve been losing weight. It shouldn’t be surprising, given the total lack of food in my house and my general lack of interest (and ability) in purchasing it. When I’m stressed I either binge (I call it “emotional eating”) or don’t eat at all. I’ve been so busy lately, that I often just forget to eat. I’ll think “hmm. tummy is growling. oh, wait, what was I doing?” and then eight hours later, I remember I was supposed to eat something. If I smell food, I definitely want to eat it, so it’s not like I’m anorexic, it’s just that I’m fucking busy and overwhelmed. There simply isn’t the brain power left to make myself eat.
I cleaned my apartment yesterday. It took me three hours, and I still need to clean the bathroom, but it’s a big step for me since it hasn’t been done in months. Yes, I am disgusting. Sorry. I don’t have time to eat, do you really think I have time to sweep and hang up my clothes and rearrange some art or furniture? Fuck. no. sir. Ain’t nobody got time for that. When my apartment is clean though, I feel relieved and happy even though I live in such a small space. The living area of the apartment is literally the size of my old bedroom in the log house. I’m jealous of people who have studios with little bedroom nooks. Mine isn’t like that, and the options for arranging the furniture are very limited due to the window unit being centered in the one window and the three doorways blocking three out of four corners of the room. I get frustrated sometimes because I don’t really like the arrangement I have, but there simply aren’t any good alternatives. As usual, I’ve done the best I can, but that doesn’t mean I’m satisfied with the results.
Oh right, losing weight. So I ordered these jeggings (oh yeah, I said it. I didn’t even cringe) before I left DC, but when they arrived, I could barely get them past my knees. I’d intended to return them, but with the craziness of the move and the whirlwind of more craziness once I got to Alabama, and then the other move when I moved into Birmingham from my parents’ house in the boonies, the returning of the pants didn’t happen. I finally decided yesterday to try them on again before I threw them out, since the box had been sitting in the corner of my room making it look cluttered. The pants fit! They’re tight, but they’re jeggings and that’s how they’re supposed to be. It’s not a graceful image when I have to take them off, but who cares. I haven’t taken off my pants in front of anyone in a while, though a fat lot of good that did me. Anyway, it’s kind of awesome that this size 10 girl can squeeze into a size 9. Totally worth celebrating! But not with cake. Celebrating with celery. Yes, that’s the spirit.
I bought this FANTASTICALLY GORGEOUS totally drool-worthy bright blue lace dress with this really great low-cut back to wear to this cocktail party, but when I got it in the mail, it was really too short and too tight to be appropriate. I would like to lose a few more pounds before attempting to wear it out in public, though an opportunity necessitating such a great dress has yet to present itself. It’s super-fitted which is why I am hesitant to wear it in my barely-a-size-9 state. Being objective about your own body is so hard, and I don’t want to ask my friends because they’ll just say “oh, you look great!” no matter what I wear. I could ask my mother, I suppose… Anyway, losing weight. If I can just drop ten more pounds, I’ll be happy. My mom and I have been chanting that mantra for years, but we just can’t seem to get to our ideal weight of 120 lbs. At my heaviest (not too long ago), I was 145, sometimes 147 lbs. BAH. According to my BMI (and my doctor) that’s borderline overweight. How scary! Last time I went to the doctor, I think I was down to 135, but I would still reallllllly like to be at 120. Weight is just a number, I know. I’ve heard that. But since I have such a hard time looking at myself and knowing if I look good or chubby or what, I figure a number is a quantifiable solid way to judge whether I look okay.
If I can be more attractive physically, maybe people will forgive me for my rhino-like personality! Work with me here, people. It’s for my own good.
I’m boring you with all this lady-nonsense, aren’t I. Oh, go back and read about my zombie dream, why don’t you! I’ve got my last school assignment of the semester to force myself to do.
UPDATE: There are so many typos and incomplete sentences in this take-home final that I want to give it back to my prof and tell her I’m not going to do it until she fixes it. Sheesh.