i'm quite happy with that number as i'm full of hormones. and cramps. because i've been a pilates slacker. i don't even have a genuine excuse. i liked pilates. the only excuse i have is that in order to make room to do pilates i have to deal with the drying rack in the middle of my living room. is that lame or what? i've just been washing and drying and picking the dry clothes off to wear. i don't have words for how pathetic that is.
i did have a bit of a wardrobe triumph this weekend. the exercise pants i bought are now officially too large. they fall off my ass as i run. it's that bad. i'm really pissed that i did't get the mediums. i didn't get them because i couldn't believe that medium would ever describe my body. while they did actually fit, they were a little clingy. and they showed me a reality of bumps and bulges and curves that i'm not ready to look at. the large doesn't show me curves, it shows my ass to passersby as i run. my crazy body issues are now affecting my shopping.
the boyfriend thought this was great news. that my clothes are getting too big for me. and he's right. i should be happy that my clothes are getting too big. i should be glad that my school ring fits perfectly today while in months past i've struggled with putting it on. i'm a little unnerved by it all. i don't think i ever believed that i would actually lose any weight. i assumed i would dabble with exercise and write about feeling fat on the internet and then give up and buy some stock in a twinkies plant. but i haven't given up yet and i am seeing changes. nothing drastic, but things i can live with. forever changes.
i can't say i don't ever daydream about home liposuction. it's just so tempting sometimes. i have knives, i have a vacuum. an over active imagination. but those urges are few. i don't really think about losing faster. everyone wants to get skinny quick. now isn't soon enough. it's as much an illusion as getting rich quick. only there's no nigerian widow who wants to cheat me out of my fat. it's one of life's fallacies that being skinny and rich will make you happy. like buying an SUV will make you powerful, and fearless and cool. we're as much being sold an illusion of being skinny and happy as we are dish soap and sugared cereal or a new car. i refuse to buy that i can't be sexy or happy until i lose more weight. i refuse to accept that i'm wasting my life being fat, biding time in a corner until i'm a size 8. i'm never going to be a size 8, but that's no big deal. it's the minutes that i sit on my couch and feel sorry for myself that i should regret. damn it.*