In the past year I gained about forty pounds all told. I am losing it, bit by bit, in a gradual and gentle fashion- haven’t made any structured plan.
It has killed m to not be as perfect as I feel like I should be or could be, to waste the potential of my mid twnties being less than optimally fit, to have let myslf go and let myself down. Because that’s what I did. But on the other hand, it just goes to show that I was suffering so much that I was unable to manage my weight in a reasonable range for the first time in my adult life, I was trying to fit into an even more painful version of the person I thought I should b.
I gave up diet coke as I tried to reclaim my health, and while I originally went cold-turkey, I recently have started havin ga little here and there, especially o stressful days.
I bought a liter about a week ago when I ordered pizza, and it is sitting almost untouched in my fridge. I guess I have finally cleansed myself from the marketin gand the false comfort of familiar self-deception and misery. I guess that’s a pretty dramatic way to look at Coke Zero.
It jus takes like poison to me. I prefer my sparkling mineral water with lemon, thank you very much. Thank you France very much! And living here, I am getting back the healthy habits I had bfore, much as I am painfully conscious of being overweight in a way I probably wouldn’t be in the US. Tried on two pairs of shorts today in what was supposed to be my size and they were too small. OUCH!
As mentioned before, I’ve been using a dating app which has if nothing lse given me something to do and has givn me more insight into men. Plus I’ve had some really fun times. One guy I met up with was exceedingly polite, and happened to mention after all that he preferred straight hair but when I explained one of my picures was on a day it was just cut and blown out, he didn’t have any problem with it. And honestly I wasn’t looking for the love of my life.
The comment did kind of hur me, because I love my wild crazy curly hair that I just wash and wear, it is natural and it is me, I think it shows my secretly crazy essence even though on the outside I usually play by the rules. Although I guess that’s beginning to change- and I think that’s a big part of the reason I wanted to get tattoos, no matter how subtle and ladylike as tattoos go.
And I feel like he probably couldn’t have handled that mssy part of myself I love, so much so that it is slowly bringing order, and light, to my life, inside and outside.
Maybe I was wrong- but my experience is that people tell you who you are right away if you listen to them.
I’m not your baby doll or your sex toy, not just that graceful poisd young woman on your arm who you know will just go with the program.
I don’ think this is feminism, this is humanism. This example of male privilege could be sseen elsewhere as female privilege. I know that as I’ve talked to guys on the dating app, I may have been callous at times though I like to thnk I”m mostly fair.
And I know that someone will love me through all this- me.
I have great friends and a wonderful family, but if I can’t love myself, I can’t accept their love.
And no Prince Charming can come along unless I start kissing myself and stop the futile kissing of guys that make me feel like a frog.
On the eve of Bastille Day, in the capital of France, in the 25th year of my life, this is my declaration of independence.
Not everyone wants to live this way, but I CHOOSE to, because my soul HAS To, I must, just be…
My mom prefers my hair straight and thinks it looks more professional that way. Maybe she’s right, although it’s not that she’s put me down about the curls and I know she envies them, but it still kind of hurts.
A guy I was planning to meet, when I explained that I usually wear my hair curly, happened to mention that he prefers it straight but it still looks nice curly.
I didn’t ask for anything like that (the other guy I did ask if there was anything I could do for him or something of the sort).
And I just thought- well, if he’s already telling me how he likes my hair, wait till he sees my body. Or my tattoos. Or my virulently opinionated facebook.
Will this be like my high school boyfriend, who once told me I embarassed him in front of his friends in my bathing suit?
Now, I am to a certain extent about owning your curves and being happy with the body that you have. But I am also realistic in that its healthier to be within a certain range and I prefer my body to be smaller than its current state- I look and feel better and some things are easier for me. Crossfit, whcih has made me love my body more than anything else I have ever done, has also made it painfully obvious to me that carrying more than a few extra pounds is really not doing yourself any favors.
So what does this all have to do with Diet Coke? Well, I recently decided that I wanted to get off the hamster wheel and all of looking for other people’s approval and “climbing the ladder” to make “it” and earn some mysterious prize since I often have no concept of self-worth outside of my achievements (and staying at a reasonable weight was one of my most important ones!) I feel like all that garbage, and my need for a socially, dietetically approved fake source of external happiness that actually causes cancer, is more than a metaphor.
I know my body is healthy when I feel healthy in all aspects of my life. And I’m going to be working on that holistically, to make some real changes in the way I relate to the world.
I’m not ungrateful or regretful of the fact I got good grades and excelled in high school which enabled me to get a scholarship to an amazing school, which taught me more than I ever realized at the time. I’m not regretful of going to business school, or starting my corporate job.
I am regretful of all the time I wasted worrying about how others would perceive me, feeling that I had no worth outside my resume, my appearance, how I “fulfilled my potential”
I am increibly sorry for not listening to my feelings and the still small voice within, which throughout helped me find other paths.
And the truth is there has to be a balance- one has to live in the world after all.
But without being defined, or sullied, by it.
All I want is my integrity, and to b loved as I am.
Female privilege? Fat-acceptance? I think not.
Not if someone I’ve never met thinks he can tell me how he likes my hair best. Maybe he didn’t realize which was its natural state. And he has a right to an aesthetic opinion- but—
I want someone who loves my curly hair, and my crazy facebook feed, and my stories and my wity sense of humor and can handle me whn I am high strugn and I talk too much.