Thursday, April 8, 2010

Summertime approaches.

For me, that means sleeping in tight black wifebeaters and long-legged pajama bottoms that I roll up past my knees in my sleep.

The last couple years, couch-surfing aside, I've been living in beach towns. This isn't purposeful- I don't "do" beaches. But something about the people, constantly out of doors, jogging, bodies vibrant, and the creativity that ocean winds seem to bring... I like it.

I've finally hit the goal I set for my body, however many years ago I fantasized about getting back to my nineteen year-old weight, pre-desk job, pre-medication that fucked with my metabolism so hard so quickly.

I look at myself in the mirror and it isn't enough.

I want to see leanness.

As lean as I can get with this bone structure. I'll never be my modelesque sister but, on the other hand, I have an ass and a rack.

My clothes are... no longer fitting. My pants hang off my hips, my favorite belt has run out of holes to use, so is of little use until I find another or punch an extra hole in it to use in the meantime.

Years ago, when my body started changing, I didn't realize it. I should have, but you see yourself every day in the mirror. You don't notice those extra pounds building. One of my friends mentioned that we have a body image so set in us of what we look like that our mind clings to it, even after the body has changed so much it's near unrecognizable.

I'm not sure if that's true.

When I finally realized that I would no long be able to fit into my clubbing clothes, my fun work clothes, I went to Target and bought some storage bins, loaded them up with an entire wardrobe and shoved them into my parents' attic, swearing I would fit into them again one day.

So many people do that. Save clothes they'll never be able to wear again. Buy clothes that don't fit and promise themselves that if they buy that dress or pair of pants, that'll be the motivation they need to lose the weight.

I'm not sure if that's true. I do know that very, very few of my friends have ever met the goals they've set for themselves.

It's a hard thing to do.

We have time we allot for certain things. It's such a limiting factor to what we accomplish, and the things that we spend time on are those that are important to us in some way, even if we don't enjoy the activity... otherwise we wouldn't be doing them so often. It might simply be habit, afraid of changing, unwilling to change.

Which is why, as I mentioned to Aldonza in an earlier comment, I don't ever think of myself as smarter than another person. I'm quick, yes. But there are so many different kinds of intelligence, intelligence formed on how we lived (and continue to live) our lives. IQ tests are rubbish, in my opinion. The idea, sure, is good. The math behind it is... odd. But what do you expect from a social science?

I like the idea that there are different kinds of intelligence. That everyone has something, no matter how odd or apparently useless, that they are a genius at. Because they learned how to be through exposure, through repetition. We teach our brain how to do these things, adapting and adjusting through experience.

So when a friend tells me they are going to lose weight, or build muscle, and then they don't, I don't think of them as lazy failures. They just didn't allot the time.

And, really, there are many other things out there do be doing with our time than obsessing about our appearance.

When I moved to this apartment, I got those boxes out from the attic. I figured I would be needing them soon. I spent an afternoon whooping with glee as I tried on clothing I forgot I had ever bought, outfits six years old that I could still wear and would still be fashionable because of how I dress. Almost everything fit, or was too large.

That was the beginning of January.

Now I'm stuck here at April. My clothes no longer fit. My favorite pair of ass-hugging jeans is loose. I don't have a pair of slacks to my name. No tight sweaters, no cute blouses, nothing.

And it's April.

I don't shop during spring and summer. I don't wear bright colors, and I certainly don't wear pastels. I refuse to wear light colored jeans. Floral prints? Christ, no.

I usually load up on "summer" clothes at the end of winter, when things are shifting into clearance. That wardrobe lasts me through the season, until "normal people" clothes come back into season at the end of summer.

It makes me feel like a dip. This whole post kinda makes me feel like a dip.

I have to valet when I get my hair done.

I broke two nails when I was out at June Lake a couple weekends ago, and I whined about it.

My fifteen year-old self would punch me in the face if she heard me whining about my nails, or handing over my keys to the parking attendant at the salon.

But here I am. Finally where I wanted to be with my body, finally able to get into the clothes I loved so much, and I'm enjoying it.

I did notice, looking back, once I lost that extra weight, how easy it was to slip into a sexless zone. Not that you're not having sex, but that you are not viewed with sexual desire. You become, essentially, without sex. Having no sexual impact on the people around you.

I often wonder if that's what it will be like when I hit my late thirties or mid-forties or whatever age it is when I stop being considered sexually desirable by the mass, whenever my body starts creating those cues that indicate to the rest of the world that I'm no longer the bright and bouncy girl that I was.

I enjoy things right now. Reading about physical desirability on the part of women and the accessibility that affords them for high status males, looking back over the months and watching my dating pool open to men I would have had a hard time accessing a few years ago. Wondering how far I'll be able to go with this body project, and what that will allow me to accomplish in the end.

And I'm exhausted. Tomorrow is a glorious day we like to call "Friday" and I plan on enjoying it.


  1. You're a dip.
    A dippy chick.

    Only mentally diseased men would find women with the bodies of 12-year-old boys attractive.

    Youth inevitably squanders its precious time physical self-obsession.

    I enjoy your random stream of consciousness prose.

    I think it's hot that you hate pastels.


  2. It all comes down to perspective. When I was young and 125,5'7", I thought I was fat. Flash forward to age 22. I was preparing for my wedding and I wanted to get in shape. I mannage to loose 17 pounds to a shapely 130 pounds. I felt good about that. Flash forward to the present. I can only dream of having that tooth pick figure I had when I was 17, lol. I still want to get in shape, but I have alot of work to do...until then I am happy with who I am. As for clothing, I like chocolate brown, black, grey, and blue. I find these colors to be classic and will flatter just about any figure. Whenever I buy clothing I try to build on what I already have. The pendulum of topic has swung to the other side of the spectrum I do believe, lol. So what is your secret to getting in shape then? I need some inspiration, Thanks, Sweet

  3. I have a 20 inch neck, 22 inch shoulders, 26 inch long arms that are 17 1/2 inches round at the bicep and a 52 inch chest.
    t-shirts aren't a problem. 2X and they're comfy 1X and they cling to my shoulders and chest but strangle me at the neck.
    Jeans and pants rarely leave me daunted.
    The problem is nice dress shirts. If I can find one where the neck fits, the sleeves are too short and so is the torso. If I find sleeve and torso length the problem is the neck. I have one (count it: one) half-way decent dress shirt.
    Unless of course I want to shop at a "western" store but I'm no cowboy. I don't quite like trying to pull off the Garth Brooks appearance.
    Don't even get me started on jackets....
    In the world of nice chest coverage I have to go custom and custom costs entirely too much for my current budget.
    As for sewing from a pattern.... I can't find one that is in my size range of 3X and 4X

  4. I often wonder if that's what it will be like when I hit my late thirties or mid-forties or whatever age it is when I stop being considered sexually desirable by the mass

    If you're anything like me, you'll find that you never really cared about "the mass" and that your appeal is about more than just flat abs. You may even find that you appeal to even more of the men you truly desire because of it.

  5. Phoenixism,

    You're always so supportive of my dippiness. And I like that you posted on body infatuation. That was pretty cool.

    Stream of consciousness is the way of the future. Or something.


    Yeah, I wasn't happy with my body during my teenage years, either. Now I look back and I'm like, "Geez, I'd love to be that firm again." Never happy, no, sir.

    I like black a lot. And royal hues, though I stick to blue and red more than anything. A little purple here and there, sometimes.

    Secret to getting in shape? Heh, it was mostly diet changes. A guy I was sleeping with is a nutritionist and a fitness nut, so he helped out quite a bit.


    Wait, how tall are you? That's freaking crazy. You don't look like a 3 or 4X. Do v-necks not work for you? That'd give you a little bit of leeway, right?

    And now I'm laughing, picturing you wearing a turtleneck. Oh, I'm a bad person.


    I hope so. I'm worried that I'm going to go insane and chop off all my hair and give up on life or something. Age is so odd. We do it every day, but we never really notice until something smacks us between the eyes and we can't help but see.