When you have a fat friend there are no see-saws, only catapults.
Happy Wednesday everyone! I'm tired.
I'm at the start of my lunch hour, and I have no idea what I'm going to write at the moment, but seeing as this is the most conscious I think I'll be for the day, I'm going to write now.
No story blog updates to report so huzzah to my lack of writing. Since Monday, I worked, fed cats, injected one with insulin, picked up friends from the airport, went to lunch with friends from the airport, dropped friends I picked up from the airport at their condo, did a little shopping, hung out with another friend, had dinner with that friend, texted another friend that I wasn't able to see her that night, and then went home to have Hulu give me the finger and not let me watch my shows even though it was letting me moments before.
Yeah. Good times.
Lunch with friends was at Panda Express, and my fortune was something like "You will never have to finances again." When I read it, I laughed and showed it to my friends. After they read it, I said, "So that means I'll either become independently wealthy soon OR I'm going to die." I had been keeping that fortune in my pocket, but I think with all the jeans I tried on yesterday, I'm assuming it fell out in one of the dressing rooms.
Bummed since I kinda wanted to keep it.
On a different note, clothes shopping sucks ass.
I was never into girly stuff like clothes shopping. I've never really been into that sort of thing. I usually just go shopping out of necessity. What's that? Pants don't fit anymore? The soles of your shoes fell off? It's summertime and you don't have any shorts? Time to go shopping!
My lack of interest in shopping is part "don't see it as a recreational hobby" and "I'm so ginormous, what the frak is the point?"
I think I started noticing my body and not liking it when I was young... maybe early teens. I jokingly blame the lack of recess in school past my post-elementary years. I remember my first day of junior high and during our first "break", I just looked at everyone milling about thinking this is it?
And P.E. can bite my ass. I'm the kind of person that if you try to force me to do something, I not only do not want to do it, but all the joy is sucked out of it when I have to do it... like for school. Like with reading. I LOVE to read, but when the teacher would say "Have the first five chapters read by tomorrow" or the fact that they choose the book for you? Ugh. It became taxing. With P.E.? I'm more of a running around, climbing trees and jungle gyms, playing dodgeball, flipping around on bars... kind of person. Whoever said I had to run four laps around a dirt track in a certain amount of time to please the masses can suck the wang of a dead goat. You have to do this many push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, etc. It's mental. I'm all for health, but I'm also for encouragement for what you can accomplish.
I can't count the number of times I felt like a loser not being able to do one frakkin pull-up. And running the mile? I'm not a runner at all, even in my healthier days. Sure, I played tag with the best of them, but I was never one for running long distances... unless being chased by an axe murderer or a shark.
Lately whenever I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror (and sometimes any reflective surface), it depresses the shit out of me. I'm never shy about talking about how much I weigh, but I'm always told I carry it well or they would have never guessed. Then I see pictures of me and wonder if those other people were just being nice or if they were just insane and didn't know any better.
My weight usually plateaus for a while, then I gain, plateau, gain...
Yeah, I hate that vicious cycle.
Normally what I do is grab a whole bunch of things, take them to the dressing room, try everything on, and keep what actually fits and looks okay on me... which lately has been very little. And now most places are limiting how many items you can bring in with you... so it's become a test of determination versus what my self-esteem can put up with.
I met up with a friend of mine yesterday while I was at a thrift/vintage place trying on jeans. They were all tagged as my size, and yes, I know that just because it says it's my size doesn't mean that it really is due to cut, style, etc. So I have six pairs of jeans and only ONE fits me. The other pairs I get up my legs and around my waist, but the distance between the button and button-hole seems grander than Grand Canyon. At one point (which I later told my friend about), that when I tried to pull the sides together as far as they could go... it looked like an extremely soft-headed baby.
Yeah, my body depression was going the way of morbid.
Most of the time when I've undressed in order to try on another item of clothing, I turn my back to the mirror, refusing to look at my reflection due to how depressing it makes me.
There's a joke Richard Jeni used to tell (from The Boy From New York City) when he talked about working out and gym memberships. He said something along the lines of "just don't walk by a mirror when you're naked... when you walk past a mirror fully dressed you think I'm reasonably attractive. But when you walk by a mirror naked? *scream* Oh my GOD! What the hell is that? If I were in the woods, I'd shoot it and run back to my car.
I used to take hip-hop dance classes two days a week a few years back, but then I got laid off and couldn't afford classes... and then the place closed when I could afford it again. There was another place I took classes, but it was only one day a week. Then I got a job so I wasn't able to make class anymore.
My issue is I need to have fun when working out else it becomes this thing that I can't stand and won't do... yeah, perhaps that's a little selfish or dumb or whatever, but I've tried other ways, other classes, and it just doesn't work.
I've often thought that if I could just get a gym membership at a place that was open 24 hours, that offered way more dance classes than most places do now, and was able to hit the gym after work and just walk a long time on the treadmill listening to music or an audiobook. Hell, I might even try my hand at a stairmaster for frak sakes.
I just don't feel pretty.
There was a time when I did. Well, more than I do now, but I don't know. I've been so emotional lately. Before it was getting upset at things that normally didn't bother me. Now it's as if, like the seasons, my moods have shifted to where now I'm all sad and borderline weepy.
Okay, the weepy has been about various things... most recently Valentine's Day, but that's neither here nor there.
I'm just stuck, but what the hell am I going to do about it? How do I get unstuck?
The answer seems to be money. The things I want - own place, fix my car, pay off my debts - all take money. I spend a lot of time worrying over the necessary - rent, gas to get to work, food - that I don't have anything left over for the fun bits - movies, road trips... and yeah, I'll throw a gym membership in there, too.
Man, I just wish I could find some place that would let me take recreational hip-hop classes for not a lot of money all throughout the week. I remember when I took my classes back in the day, I'd come home dripping in sweat, completely exhausted, with a big grin on my face. I loved it. Just loved it.
Okay, enough of the depressing crap. Lunch is nearing its end, and I have to get back to work. I'll talk to y'all later. Hopefully I'll have a little more pep in my step... as well as my heart and soul.
Later my lovelies.