No Makeup Self Portrait, 2009

Fat Bridesmaid challenged her readers to post a no makeup self portrait, in the spirit of honesty and true selves and all that.

I think that's a great idea. This blog naturally lends itself to focus what I put on my body, and less on who I am--regardless of what I wear (though I think clothing and makeup can be a great method of self-expression, and sometimes I feel more "me" dressed to the nines with a full face of glamour).

But here I am, sans makeup, in a picture I took for my fiance:



Know what else? I LOVE that at 24, I already have laugh lines around my eyes.

Sizes Don't Matter

I'm not gonna lie, the number on the tag can get to me. Not as much as it used to, but I still cringe when I have to put on a pair of 16s when I thought I was a 14. I vowed to never by an XXL at Target ever again.

But it's when I walk out of a store with tags as varied as these that I'm reminded the number on the tag isn't nearly as important as how my body moves (or can't move).

(Hells yes, I shop at K-Mart. Suck it.)

The thing is, I don't wear ANY of those sizes. Not an 18, not a large, and CERTAINLY not a medium. I typically wear a 14 pant, and XL shirt. I mean, my top is larger than my bottom, which makes the Medium shirt and 18 skirt even more weird.

I almost got a little mad at myself when I couldn't slip the size 14 skirt above my thighs. I was so happy to have to go down two sizes to the medium top. But no matter what emotions are connected with the number on the tag, I have to realize that in reality, my body hasn't magically changed based on whatever size I'm wearing. The size 18 skirt doesn't make me any fatter than I am, and the Medium shirt really doesn't make me smaller. (How even more serendipitous that I bought the shirt and skirt to match.) I'm taking this as my reminder to listen to my body rather than my clothes. 

Wow, I Smell Really Bad

I just got back from Week 1, Day 2 of Couch to 5K. Yeah, I know, I completed Day 2 a full week after Day 1, but we're going to roll with it. I am tired. I'll be sore tomorrow. I'm sweaty and really, really smelly (like wow, I didn't think my body could smell that bad smelly). But I did it. And I didn't stop early, not even once (not even when I thought I was on the 5-minute walk-to-cool-down bit, and I was surprised with one more "Jog for 30 seconds!" bit)!

So while today was a physically easier, I'm pretty sure my mind wasn't in the right place. When I started running today, I felt like the fat kid at P.E. No matter how overweight I've been, and no matter how out of shape I am, I've never felt like the person that just couldn't do it. Today, I did, and I don't want to feel like that ever again. Last week (and maybe it's because it was still Day 1 and I was being naive), even though I felt like I just.couldn't.keep.running, I tried, and usually made it, and the next time the faster techno music signaled to run for 30 seconds, it didn't occur to me that I might not make it until I was just a few seconds shy from the 30 second mark. This week, I felt like that while I was still walking. So even though this week was actually easier physically than last week, it felt like such a mountainous challenge compared with last week's. And even more, nothing about the routine had changed.

It was all in my head, and I'm not sure why. Even at 214 pounds, with my doctor kindly telling me to get off my ass, I had pretty good self-esteem. I know I'm a gorgeous girl, I'm funny and smart, and even though my body overweight and out of shape, that's not who I am. I wouldn't be able to do this if I didn't love myself (which is why I ALWAYS harp on people who are beating themselves up). So it was just very strange to hear myself thinking "you can't do this; you're too fat; you're not gonna make it; you'll never be healthy or thin" today. It took all of my strength to stop thinking those self-abusive thoughts and search for the things that would encourage me. Today? It was noticing how good my shadow looked while running. At least it looked like it knew what it was doing.

So that's that, then. Week 1, Day 2 DONE. Here's to Friday finally wrapping up Week One of this thing (If I can make it to Friday, it will be the furthest I've ever gotten with C25K--I've started it twice before, and never made it past Day 2).

A Letter of Complaint

Dear Breasts,
We need to talk. You see, I've begun to rethink our friendship. We've simply been together for too long. This relationship has just gotten too big for me. Really. It's just too much for me to handle. I want to go back to the way we used to be--me, with my naive high school ways, I just assumed we'd always we would stay the way we were. I hoped we could keep our cute, perky, 36-C relationship. I was fine with our friendship growing, for a while, but now it's just too big. I mean, I thought you would stop once we got to the 40DDD stage, and I even got hopeful when we got down to 38DDD, but when I saw our friendship just wasn't fitting any more, I decided to have us professionally evaluated. And you know what, Breasts? 36H just isn't going to work for me. 36H is just too big. 36H is too big to shop for, too expensive, and too painful, especially when my back is carrying all the weight. What I want to know, Boobs, is why you've decided to make our friendship grow when the rest of my body and I are taking it slow, shrinking things down a bit. I mean, c'mon. Where's the limit? Are you shooting for a record or something? It's time to cool it, shrink back down a little. I don't want to have to pay for our therapy.
Think about it,
Ashley