...and more body parts than i'd care to admit are jiggling from the sudden impact.
please witness the following progression of my fat-assedness:
this is me--about 6 years ago, i think--with an old boyfriend (who reads this blog, actually...everyone say 'hi, dan!') after i ran an experiment in anorexia for a couple of months. to this day, i have no idea how i did it. i know that i could never do it again, and i know that were it not for this picture, i would never remember how ABSOLUTELY EFFING SKINNY my face was, but i will never forget how sick i was, after all the not-eating caught up to me.
anyway, blah blah blah, here's the picture:
oh, and here's what the rest of my body looked like at the time...
so, there's that.
that was probably the skinniest i've ever been in my life.
when i began to recover, i looked like this:
see? the face is a little different. i wouldn't call it fat...but it definitely looks different than the first picture.
and, by the by, that's my friend april in that picture, who i haven't seen in about four years. i'm under the impression that she lives in texas somewhere. has anyone seen her?
here's another example of how i looked at a 'normal' weight:
that was me and my two cousins after we won the 'snowbowl'--a family football game that we play before thanksgiving dinner every year in park city.
and this is what i looked like in a bathing suit, with my friend sweeney attempting to snack on my left boob:
(dude, don't make that face. my boobs ARE very snackable. or so i hear. although, as we trek onward through the depths of this progression of fat-assedness...they do beome more like *meals* than *snacks.* hell, i've had days where i felt i was carting around enough boob to feed the third world. but...maybe less talk about the boobs is a good thing. ahem.)
now, i know that most people will think that picture is disgusting. but, to me? i would give anything to look like that again. and, more importantly, i would give anyting to have been able to appreciate myself when i did look like that. i mean, could i have benefitted from a few (hundred) crunches every morning? certainly. but i thought i was ugly and fat then, and i wasn't.
i love that picture--i really do.
i just look so...happy.
i must have been drunk to be acting so free with my belly, but really?
what the fuck?
i'd kill to have that body back.
and, in that picture? i think i look like someone who feels comfortable, and that's a feeling i haven't felt nearly enough in this lifetime.
why, you ask?
because by new year's eve last year (when it turned 2006) i was on a FREE TRIP (to VEGAS, with 75 thousand of my family members, to celebrate my grandpa's 80th birthday) with john, and this was the most comfortable i could look:
don't worry...it doesn't make you a bad person if you're thinking oh my goodness, what happened to her?
it was a very drastic change, that took place not-so-drastically.
it was a million little stresses (and one really big one) that helped me put on weight.
but, just in case the difference wasn't clear enough, take a peek at this close up:
all i'm trying to say is, isn't it clear that this isn't what i'm supposed to look like?
i don't blame you if you're all:
because i feel the exact same way.
(although, i do think it's worth mentioning that even my yucky fat pumpkin face comes with a crown. and a feather boa. because you can only stifle fabulous so much, you know?)
anyway, after that trip--where i should have been at my most fabulous, i tried to put my foot down.
it wasn't a complete failure, as today i look like this:
so, i think i might look a TEENY bit better than i did then, but it's hard to say.
i mean, all of the pictures that i post on this blog--if i say i took them right when i was blogging--that's absolutely the truth. but, it must be considered that i'm taking those pictures myself.
you know, my profile picture is only 4 days old, and i don't think i look like an obese monster in it...but, i took it myself (read: sat at an appropriate angle in front of my computer).
at any rate, i think i weigh at least slightly less than i did in those horrible vegas photos...
but that's really not the point.
i lost (some of) that weight pretty much as soon as we got back from vegas, by working out, and going on the south beach diet. (evidence is chronicled here, here, and here. the relative failure of the plan is discussed here, in case you're interested in that sort of thing.)
pictorial evidence of the (at least somewhat) drastic change that i made in the 2 months between horrible-fat-ass-vegas-adventure and kick-ass-spring-break with my girls can be seen...oh, fuck it.
i was going to make a link, but there are already 6 frillion pictures of me in this entry, so, what the hell?
two months after fat-ass-vegas adventure, i looked like this:
and, you know?
i was proud of that.
i didn't feel great...but i felt ok.
looking back, i feel like it was a really amazing change for such a short amount of time.
but, since that trip?
i've only put weight on.
and on, and on, and on.
i didn't feel comfortable for one single second through all of last summer.
screw a tank top...
i didn't even want to wear a short sleeved shirt.
and EVERY SINGLE DAY i woke up pissed off at myself.
do you know how that feels?
to wake up and hate yourself every single day?
i know there are some of you out there who feel me...
it's so terrible, that i can't even spend the time to think of a better word for how terrible it is...
i just don't want to think about it anymore.
but, i have to think about it.
now, more than ever.
this whole winter, i kept telling myself i was going to work out.
i was going to get my shit under control; i was going to use the 5 months of frigid weather to my advantage; i was going to excercise myself into oblivion.
i was going to become the kind of healthy that had no need for the south beach diet.
on monday, it was like 35 degrees or something in michigan.
on tuesday, it got up to 75.
hey fat-ass...weren't you supposed to start working out 4 months ago?
like that kind of sudden change in the weather.
to be honest, i don't want to be writing this post.
i don't want to talk to you about how much the way i look bothers me.
i don't want to talk about how i prefer to not do anything that requires leaving the house on my days off because i can't stand the thought of taking a shower and spending all that time blow-drying my hair, and putting on make-up, and curling and/or straightening hair, and picking out clothes, all the while knowing that no amount of prep i can do will make me feel like i look decent enough to leave the house.
does that sound overdramatic?
of course it does. and, really? i don't want to disappoint you--i come off as so bitchy, so above taking other people's shit.
but, i'm not.
and i take more of my own shit than anyone else could ever possibly hand me.
the thing is, if i can write to you about boones that smell like rotting roadkill, and about my feelings about 9/11, and about my father's death...
i don't know, i feel like at some point i can start telling you the truth about my everyday life, which is this:
i need to lose weight, and i think about this every single second of every single day.
often times, i think about it as i enjoy a mexican pizza from taco bell.
(in fact, i was enjoying a mexican pizza as a began writng this post. but don't tell anyone, ok?)
of course i realize that 90% of people reading this will think 'ok, then get started!
but i know, having been inspired by y's post, and the comments that follow, that there are plenty of people out there who know how i feel.
still, it's not for them that i write this post.
it's for me.
i need to admit this: that i am not happy, and that this thing is bothering me so much that i wish i didn't have to leave the house.
i mean, that's a problem, right?
i refuse to live through another summer where i'm ashamed to wear a short sleeved shirt.
it's entirely possible that i'll never wear a bikini again--but, you know what? that's ok.
but i'm putting my foot down...booty shaking in the aftermath and all...
at the thought of dreading wearing a short sleeved shirt.
i simply cannot put myself through this again.
i'm not morbidly obese...
it can't possibly be that difficult.
all i ask of you is this:
i'm not sharing this because i want you to tell me that i'm pretty.
i know that to do so will be the first instinct of many of you, and if you can't keep it in check, that's ok. i mean, i'm not going to turn down a compliment.
but, you need to understand that you don't REALLY know what i look like.
sure, you've seen recent photos.
you want one from right this very second?
there you go, courtesy of my pretty i-mac. which is much skinnier than i am.
at any rate...
the point of this whole thing is that i just needed to tell someone.
so, i told all of you.
now, i can't pretend like everything's okay.
everything is not okay.
i just need everyone to know that, because obviously i need to be accountable to someone other than myself.
left to my own devices, i will eat mexican pizza and baked potatoes with cheese and brocolli and sour cream and fried mushrooms--omg, fried mushrooms, they are sooooooo good--into oblivion.
so, all i can say is, if you're still reading after all this...
i promise i'll be back tomorrow evening with a funny or bitchy story of some sort.
i just needed to get this out, and i thank you from the bottom-most of my fat rolls for listening.