holiday crazee

Prologue #1: I've lost a little bit of weight over the past few months. The first few pounds were intentional, then I lost a little more from stress when I was having my bad few weeks in September. That was the point at which I weighed myself and found myself to be 128. Stark naked, first thing in the morning, but after evacuating everything that could be evacuated, so to speak. (Any woman who's ever had any food or body issues knows exactly what I'm talking about, those scale games to get your lowest possible weight.) Well, as you know, Bob, I've had another little anxiety freak out this month again and consequently haven't been eating very much. The other morning when I was getting ready for work I tried on a pair of pants that are usually "5 pounds too tight" for me, and surprise surprise, they fit, and I wore them. So it occurred to me that I've probably dropped another couple pounds, and I weighed myself last night before going to bed. 128, but fully clothed at the end of the day, so yeah. End of prologue #1.

Prologue #2: The holidays are hard for me. In retrospect, I'd say they've been so maybe from the time D's father and I broke up, or maybe since my grandmother died, but certainly over the past 5 years since my mother died and D got sick. A lot of feelings of sadness, loneliness, regret, and jealousy of what I perceive other people have that I do not get called up. I know this. I try to expect it so it doesn't blindside me, and to do what I can to head it off, usually not very successfully. Like, last night, listing what I'm thankful for? True, all true, but all the positive fucking affirmations and looking on the bright side in the world really can't blot out the dark thoughts completely. End of prologue #2.

Holiday crazee: So, despite knowing my proclivities and knowing what I should and should not do, I nevertheless read something this morning that was guaranteed to trigger me big time. Guaranteed. I am so damn smahhht knowing what I should and should not do, but does that mean I do it? No. No no no. And the bad, bad thoughts came flooding in.

It was in this mood that, while getting dressed, I decided to try on some other clothes that almost certainly wouldn't fit me. And they didn't. And I immediately became so disgusted with my gross body and then almost immediately afterwards laughing at myself, because see prologue #1. If anything points up that whether or not I like what I see in the mirror has nothing to do with the actual mirror and everything to do with my internal mental state, that'd be it. So what did I decide to do after *that*?

Oh, it gets better. This probably should be prologue #3, but in case I haven't mentioned it, I haven't liked a single photograph of myself taken in at least the past 4 years. And because I expect the photo to be horrible, I freeze my face up when I know I'm getting my picture taken and it's consequently even worse. So, this morning in a black black mood and already disgusted with my body, I decide to whip out my digital camera and see if I can take a picture of my face that I like. Well. There is now officially no angle I can be photographed at which does not either play up my jowls or the "have you slept in the past 6 weeks, Andrea?" black circles under my eyes. Just horrible. And already hating myself and everyone else didn't exactly help. Erase erase erase. On the plus side, my hair did look awesomely shiny in every pic. Pfff.

Luckily for me, I had to go out to get whipped cream (yes, I *did* forget one thing I needed, huge surprise, huh?) and the paper. Thank god the 7-11 has a lovely selection of dairy products. They didn't, however, have any papers, so I walked to another couple stores looking fruitlessly for a damn Globe. The combination of the fresh air and exercise lifted the worst of the bad bad thoughts, thankfully.

Moral of the story? I dunno. Eat more whipped cream?

xoxo