I want to blog more consistently, it helps me stay on track. That was the point when I started in 2010, and for whatever reason I’ve lost sight of how helpful this is. It keeps me focused and accountable…and booooy, do I need that.
I am at such a crossroads right now, it’s too real and I just want to sleep through it and not have to face it. But I know I have to. I’m 25 and still so lost. Some of it is out of my control, but so much more of it is and I’m all out of excuses. This is not where I imagined I would be and yet at the same time, I have the power to steer myself toward where I do want to be. But there is something inside me that is blocking that and I don’t know how to figure out what it is or how to deal with it. Lately I’ve been wondering if it’s just plain old fear. Am I really so afraid of the unknown that I’ve held myself back because it’s more “comfortable” to know? I don’t even like where I’m at, why would would I want to just stay here? Am I just unambitious? Lazy? Unmotivated? I honestly don’t know, but whatever it is…it can end up ruining me.
In other strange news, I’ve somehow managed to lose 5 lbs this month without any wholesome effort. Someone kick me in the face and give me a shake, please.
Bad news: I have Pityriasis rosea, where some virus hangs out in my body and causes this rash I’ve been having. I wasn’t surprised to hear this because this was one of the options I found while consulting with Google MD, but I’m bummed because it’s something going on inside of me and I can’t really do anything to alleviate it. It comes and goes on its own but can last anywhere from 6-12 weeks…soooo, 3 months at most. This is definitely worse than having a heat rash but at least now I can work out without worrying that it will make this worse. It’s not contagious, has no long-term effects…Doc says I’m fine.
My body is just hosting a pesky virus right now, no biggie.
This whole “avoiding sweating” thing has actually been more difficult than I thought, mostly because I really do want to work out. I went from being consistent for two weeks to doing nothing for nearly two weeks and my body is confused.
My rash is getting better (I think), granted- not as drastically as I was hoping. I’m giving myself until Friday for more of it to clear up and I’m planning to get to the gym on Friday. I made an appointment with my doctor for Monday so either way, I hope to have some answers and/or something to help speed up the clear up.
On the eating front, I’m doing really well. Pleased!
At least, that’s what I think it is. I’ve consulted with the ever credible Dr Google M.D. and the spots seem to be consistent with heat rash. Other than having all kinds of red spots all over my body, I have no other symptoms…so I’ve ruled out the possibility that I’m developing some grotesque skin disease.
So guess what one of the best “remedies” is? Just take a wild guess. Avoiding sweating. Yes. Seeing that I want this thing to go away as fast as possible, I haven’t worked out since the beginning of this last week. I’m trying to stay as sweat-free as possible, taking cold showers to cool my weirdo body off. It’s been about a week and I think it’s hit its peak [ie. not getting worse], but it’s not getting significantly better either. So I’m making an appointment with my doctor for later this week/early next week in case it continues to linger. Otherwise, my goal is to be the biggest, baddest LITERAL Ice Queen ever.
Seriously. This past month and a half of trial and error has been leading up to this. All hands on deck, it’s go time and…I can’t think of a more perfect time than the first day of a new season. Bring on Fall!
It’s no secret that I have an addictive personality. Once I get into something, there’s no stopping me. If I enjoy it, I do it excessively: eating, shopping, spending, working, traveling, talking, sleeping and even working out (believe it or not?!) And it only ever hits me when I’ve royally messed up or am sitting at home waiting for pay day because I’ve already spent every cent I had to my name. There are people out there who don’t understand what it’s lie to literally be broke as a joke…and to you I say- how can I be like you? Because I know it all too well. Too well to allow it to continue, as well as allowing these other habits to continue. I know that life is a constant cycle of trial and error, but continuing the same crappy cycle is just madness.
This has been a post. I have no clue what my point is anymore.
I haven’t fallen off the wagon. In fact, I’ve stayed on it pretty consistently. Gym workouts are happening at least 3 times a week, although I want to be more consistent. Eating is okay, but could be better. I’m trying to find balance between work, working out, social life [kinda] and starting soon, volunteering. So I guess it’s still a work in progress.
Also, my scale is officially dead after the Great Meltdown of 2013. I replaced the battery and everything, but to no avail. It’s probably just as well, because I have a tendency to obsess about numbers and get discouraged when they don’t move in the direction I want.
This weekend I was told a story which, although I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, because holy shit is it ever obvious, is kind of blowing my mind.
A friend of a friend won a free consultation with Clinton Kelly of What Not To Wear, and she was very excited, because she has a plus-size body, and wanted some tips on how to make the most of her wardrobe in a fashion culture which deliberately puts her body at a disadvantage.
Her first question for him was this: how do celebrities make a plain white t-shirt and a pair of weekend jeans look chic? She always assumed it was because so many celebrities have, by nature or by design, very slender frames, and because they can afford very expensive clothing. But when she watched What Not To Wear, she noticed that women of all sizes ended up in cute clothes that really fit their bodies and looked great. She had tried to apply some guidelines from the show into her own wardrobe, but with only mixed success. So - what gives?
His answer was that everything you will ever see on a celebrity’s body, including their outfits when they’re out and about and they just get caught by a paparazzo, has been tailored, and the same goes for everything on What Not To Wear. Jeans, blazers, dresses - everything right down to plain t-shirts and camisoles. He pointed out that historically, up until the last few generations, the vast majority of people either made their own clothing or had their clothing made by tailors and seamstresses. You had your clothing made to accommodate the measurements of your individual body, and then you moved the fuck on. Nothing on the show or in People magazine is off the rack and unaltered. He said that what they do is ignore the actual size numbers on the tags, find something that fits an individual’s widest place, and then have it completely altered to fit. That’s how celebrities have jeans that magically fit them all over, and the rest of us chumps can’t ever find a pair that doesn’t gape here or ride up or slouch down or have about four yards of extra fabric here and there.
I knew that having dresses and blazers altered was probably something they were doing, but to me, having alterations done generally means having my jeans hemmed and then simply living with the fact that I will always be adjusting my clothing while I’m wearing it because I have curves from here to ya-ya, some things don’t fit right, and the world is just unfair that way. I didn’t think that having everything tailored was something that people did.
It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t know this. But no one ever told me. I was told about bikini season and dieting and targeting your “problem areas” and avoiding horizontal stripes. No one told me that Jennifer Aniston is out there wearing a bigger size of Ralph Lauren t-shirt and having it altered to fit her.
I sat there after I was told this story, and I really thought about how hard I have worked not to care about the number or the letter on the tag of my clothes, how hard I have tried to just love my body the way it is, and where I’ve succeeded and failed. I thought about all the times I’ve stood in a fitting room and stared up at the lights and bit my lip so hard it bled, just to keep myself from crying about how nothing fits the way it’s supposed to. No one told me that it wasn’t supposed to. I guess I just didn’t know. I was too busy thinking that I was the one that didn’t fit.
I thought about that, and about all the other girls and women out there whose proportions are “wrong,” who can’t find a good pair of work trousers, who can’t fill a sweater, who feel excluded and freakish and sad and frustrated because they have to go up a size, when really the size doesn’t mean anything and it never, ever did, and this is just another bullshit thing thrown in your path to make you feel shitty about yourself.
I thought about all of that, and then I thought that in elementary school, there should be a class for girls where they sit you down and tell you this stuff before you waste years of your life feeling like someone put you together wrong.
So, I have to take that and sit with it for a while. But in the meantime, I thought perhaps I should post this, because maybe my friend, her friend, and I are the only clueless people who did not realise this, but maybe we’re not. Maybe some of you have tried to embrace the arbitrary size you are, but still couldn’t find a cute pair of jeans, and didn’t know why.
Before anyone thinks this is a post about overweighing myself and falling prisoner to the scale, it might have been had I actually been able to weigh myself. Basically my scale’s battery was low, I went out and got a new one to replace it, stuck it in the scale and…smoke hit the fan, literally. The battery started to melt and I somehow figured it out before my bathroom burned to the ground. So…the scale Gods are obviously not keen on me stepping on that scale.
On the bright side, I made it to the gym Monday to Wednesday, rested today and will get back to it tomorrow. It’s becoming easier to tune out the chunky little devil on my shoulder giving me reasons not to go and that feels pretty damn good! I’m getting my stamina back up and feeling good about my progress. This is the part of the process that has evaded me for the longest time, that motivation that comes with knowing that you are getting stronger daily.
Anyway, wordiness aside…apart from almost starting a fire, things are going well.
"Oh, THAT'S why I gained all the weight (and then some) back" moment– an essay.
When you look over your last few pages of posts and they’re 99.9% centered around falling off the wagon, restarting, lacking perseverance…lather, rinse, repeat. But to be a downer here, but that’s highly uninspiring. I could write a best selling book about how to never stick to or accomplish anything. Ever. And I feel like an asshole living the same cycle over and over, a weight loss version of Groundhog Day.
A long time ago, back when my integrity was intact, I shed 40lbs through sheer will and determination. I guess I used it all up because I’ve gained it all back and then some. How? My life has been reduced to shedding and gaining back the same 5lbs for what has felt like an eternity. Times 8. Minus the shedding of weight. See how that happens?
Last night, after everyone had gone to bed, I made my way downstairs for a sneaky hotdog party. I wasn’t hungry at all, I just had an itch to scratch. So I tiptoed downstairs and stealthily plugged in the George Foreman and popped not one but two hot dogs on there and went to town. I’m not really sure who I was hiding from, but it’s almost as if in my head, when no one sees me eating it doesn’t count and never happened. My inner self turns a blind eye and we never speak of my indiscretions again. Throw in some Freudian mumbo jumbo about repressed memories and you’ve got me pegged to a tee. I’m a secret eater through and through, hiding just for the sake of hiding.
There you go. The key to unlocking the universe lies in my “if no one sees it, it didn’t happen” mentality. How do I unlock it, you (whoever you are, I don’t even know) ask? As if I have the slightest clue. I don’t know. But I’ll have to figure it out.
I definitely had it together today. Got a work out in, am totally feeling the combined soreness of yesterday and today’s- yes, that’s two days in a row if you’re paying attention. After so many sporadic visits to the gym, my absolute number one goal is to get back into a groove. To make it a regular, almost daily thing like it used to be for me.
Good decisions all around today and I’m totally excited for tomorrow because- pay day, pay day…gotta get down on pay day! And I’m totally hitting up the grocery store because FOOD.
I did something today that I've never been able to do before.
I was sitting around with my family updating them on life, and my mom wanted to bring up my weight. In front of everyone. This was the third time this week alone that she had mentioned something, and I guess she had also mentioned it to my dad and brother because they didn’t seem surprised that this was brought up.
I lost my shit. I told her it was none of her business, that her incessant nagging would do no good. She saw the rage in my eyes covering up all of the hurt that I’ve endured throughout the years because of her. This is the woman who first told me I needed to go on a diet when I was in 5th grade. 5th grade. Because we were going to a wedding that summer, and funny enough, she didn’t bring it up again for a while after the wedding. I have pictures from the wedding and I was a normal-sized, slightly taller-than-average girl. This is a memory that will forever reside in my mind, overshadowing all of the other memories of being called “big” and hearing myself talked about to other grown ups in terms of my weight.
I lost my shit so badly, I almost don’t remember it all. I told her that this was a personal struggle, something that I was well aware of since, you know…I do own a mirror. I told her to never bring it up again because it was not okay, it crossed a solid lead line that I would never allow her or anyone else to cross again.
People don’t realize how cutting and traumatic their words can be, especially to a child who will eventually start to believe everything others say about them because they don’t know what to believe. Mothers, don’t do this to your daughters. It is beyond unforgivable.
Who’s being an asshole right now fitness-wise? I am!
Who’s going to the Dominican Republic at the end of June and needs to stop being an asshole fitness-wise? I am/do!
Okay. I know. This is purely shallow bullshit but I need a physical motivator to get me mentally right. Is this crappy backwards thinking? Probably. But I think I totes need this right now. So, I’m challenging myself to a junk-free April. Which I hope to turn into a junk-free May, and so on.
So as I mark my calendar for June 28th, it’s time to get down to business. I’ve never had any type of “deadline” dates for progress, and this isn’t a shed-all-the-weight date because…no, that’s not realistic. But I’m going to focus on slimming down and feeling/looking better in my clothes, period. End of. Fin.
There may come a time, in the near future, when you begin to fear that you have accidentally wasted your entire 20s.
This revelation may be arrived at in a dramatic fashion — say, just for fun, that you woke up the day after your 30th birthday with toothpaste in your hair, inside an empty apartment that you don’t recognize, which the note on the front table suggests is owned by someone who calls himself “Waxy Dave.” That could lead to some self-evaluation.