So first of all, I fell off the weed wagon last night. We bought an eighth, got high, watched 30 Rock. Ate caramel corn and Skittles. I skipped ballet for it.
I am better today than I thought I’d be, mentally. Last Friday I was in the midst of a freakout about my body image and weight and stuff, and I realized that I’m heading down a bad road. I keep thinking “oh, I’m miserable now, but I’ll be happy when I fit into those two skirts”, but the truth is that I won’t. Realistically I don’t think I’m going to be making that goal anytime soon; I am struggling to maintain a strict diet (see caramel corn and skittles, above), and even with my regular gym attendance I’m not seeing much of a difference. Maybe a little weight dropped, but not much. I haven’t weighed myself in a long time. Maybe my body is just gonna stay at this weight for right now, no matter what I do. I tend to think it’s permanent, and it might be or it might not.
But I could very easily make myself miserable like this for the rest of my life, obsessing over maybe ten pounds of flab around my tummy. I discard all the things that make me a good person—my writing skills, my love of reading, my singing, whatever draws people to me socially—and instead reduce myself to this one thing. It’s so fucking unhealthy and scary and sad. I don’t want to be this way.
So I’m going to talk to my therapist about all of this on Saturday. I have successfully gone out and purchased about seven new dresses, which all fit me really well and are quite flattering. I also nabbed myself a few pairs of shorts/capri leggings to wear under the dresses, which are REALLY comfortable around my waist which is super nice. So wearing dresses is once again comfortable and thus I won’t suffer the summer in black pants all the time.
The reality of the matter is that no one else really notices my body but me. It doesn’t matter to anyone else.
So that’s the update.