Sometimes what you take well on the outside, is what kills you on the inside...

I've been heavy for several years now. I was a whopping 185 pounds on the day that I got married two years ago. I've lost 15 pounds since then by no other means then going "Holy crap! Pizza bad. Pizza very bad." I seriously lost 15 pound in the matter of weeks by not eating out.

That was two years ago, so I find myself wondering why I'm suddenly trying to figure out what my target weight should be. I've asked doctors. I've checked with any number of BMI calculators. I've received a distressing variety of answers from: The doctor who told me I should weigh about 125 pounds (Even though I was skin and bones at 120), the physical trainer who said that I should aim for 20% body fat which would be about 145 pounds (Which was my original starting weight which had me labeled as 'thick'), all the way up to the various calculators that told me I should weigh 160 but because of my bone structure and body type I would forever look fat and generally duck shaped.

Why do I suddenly hate my own skin so much? I've lost 15 pounds, but I feel way more self conscious now then I did at 185. Losing weight hasn't made me any happier about myself.

I read somewhere that the problem with social commentary on body image is that hurtful statements are remembered more often than complements are. Deciding to preform some covert psychological (or would it be cognitive/behavioral?) experiments with my own head, I proceeded to make an exercise of looking in the mirror at myself and trying to remember nice things that people have said about how I look.

I remembered my husband telling me that I "look nice." I smiled and said "Thank you." But then I immediately thought "But I never know if your telling me the truth."

This all stems from a conversation my husband and I had several months ago. Keep in mind I didn't at the time, and still don't think that the conversation I'm about to reference was in any part meant to hurt me or make me feel bad.

We were idly talking about the crazy, stupid things we think when we're angry at each other. I said I contemplated dumping chili pepper in his can of coffee to get back at him once. He told me, "I thought 'I don't know why I put up with her, she's not even that physically attractive.' Then I stopped and said 'That's not fair. She's only like that because she was eating what you were eating.' "

I'm proud of the fact that I didn't burst into tears. I don't know what was worse, the fact that my husband told me that he doesn't think I'm physically attractive, or the fact that it being his fault is the only excuse for it.

Now granted, I'm sensitive about my appearance and tend to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but that really smarts. Every time he compliments me I think about that comment. I'm wary of his praise and doubt it's sincerity.

I find myself thinking illogical things like "That's why he won't hold me. That's why he never has time for me. That's why-" I know that's not the case. We work two different shifts, he has the kids 3 days a week and the only time he gets to see them is the only time that I'm awake since I work night shift. We're tired, bone tired all the time. Yet for some reason it just seems easier to blame him for all of my insecurities.

Currently I'm of the opinion that I have to stop finding a source, and actually deal with my body image issues. Like much of the country I can't afford a therapist, and all resources on the net are geared to teens or completely untrustworthy.

I figure I will develop a healthy body image, work on my confidence, and figure out what makes me happy before I worry about him thinking I'm attractive. He's a non entity on this subject. His opinion should mean nothing if it isn't good, so I'm going to set that aside as I focus on my real problem: Me and my own opinion of myself.

My Thoughts on "Thigh Gap"

There's a lot of blather about 'thigh gaps' on the net as of late. For those of you who don't know what a thigh gap is, it is when you stand up and there is essentially a diamond shaped peephole between your thighs. I really don't understand the obsession over this anymore then I get the high collarbone bit.

At one point I weighed a mere 115 pounds and had a 'thigh gap'. I purposely wore baggy pants to hide that as I felt it made me look like a Auschwitz victim.

Worse then that I thought that when people saw me in tight clothing it was like advertising my vagina. To provide clarity on this statement I present this quote from "Memoirs of a Geisha"

"The knot- what I've called the "pincushion"- is formed by wrapping the hair around a piece of fabric. In back where the knot is split, the fabric is left visible; it might be a design of any color, but in the case of an apprentice geisha- after a certain point in her life, at least- it's always red silk. One night a man said to me:

'Most of these innocent little girls have no idea how provocative the 'split peach' hairstyle really is! Imagine that you're walking along behind a young geisha, thinking all sorts of naughty thoughts about what you might like to do to her, an then you see on her head this split-peach shape, with a splash of red inside the cleft...' "

 Much like the hairstyle being used as a advertising/metaphor for the fact that they were still virgins, I feel that the 'thigh gap' is like saying "Hey guys, I have a hole between my legs, if you know what I mean!" Lewd. Bleh.

That's just my opinion, having had one. I still don't understand girls freaking out about a sliver of negative space...

An introduction.

Why am I doing this?Although the name of this blog suggests some sort of egocentric angst of my weight, I'm actually doing this for my general well-being. There are several things that I feel I need to change in my life, we'll call them addictions, and I have no idea where to begin.

All the ways I suck:
The first of several things that I want to change is my nasty smoking habit. It doesn't make me feel good anymore, so why do I keep doing it?

The second is my uncomfortably high caffeine intake. I go through a dozen cans of coke a day! That is seriously unhealthy.

I don't exercise. I get really self conscious about it. I got made fun of so much for trying, that it make getting fat and sick seem like a good idea. People suck. They're always going to suck. I need to learn to make adult decisions. I'm not a teenager. I'm a grown woman and this delusional "If I feel bad about it, it will go away" mentality is completely unreasonable.

I have no enduring self confidence. I can pull myself together occasionally, but I'm generally of the opinion that since I'm a screw-up I should just keep my mouth shut and my head low.

Nobody is my enemy more than I am. I will tear myself down and send myself hurtling into one vicious cycle after another.

And yes, I'm fat. I'm 5'7 and a soul crushing 170 pounds. This is an improvement over the 185 pounds I was at my wedding 2 years ago. Some might say "Wow, 2 years and you only lost 15 pounds." I only shrug. At least I didn't gain any more weight.

I have fairly severe ADD and it's well controlled with medication... but I don't want to be depended to Johnson & Johnson for the rest of my life so I'm trying to find methods of reigning in my own brain.

I'm lazy. No, I'm not just pointlessly flogging myself. I mean I am really, really lazy. Sometimes it feels like I never learned how to be a grown up.

Things I would like to bring into my life:

I would like to take up meditation. I read that it helps with stress, helps with focus and can help you overcome cravings of all kinds.

I would like to build a list of simple exercises that I can do at home during the several hours a day I have to myself.

I want to become a writer.

I want to go back to school. I haven't figured out what I'd go back for, but it would be nice to at least earn a 2 year degree. I always wanted to be a college graduate but I made some poor choices that prohibit that still.

I want to get into therapy, or at least a non AA based support group for the results of being raised in a dysfunctional family.

I want to get back into art. I used to spend a lot of time at it but quit when I wasn't getting any better. I liked painting and drawing. It was soothing.

I want some form of religion. I need to be able to pray to something even if it's just to make me feel better.

I want a stronger bond with my sister and mother.

I want to have a few new friends who I have a realistic and mature friendship with. I do not need people who want to rehash their teenage golden years.

I want to develop a consistent, and complete sense of identity.

I want to be less angry all of the time.

I want to be the sort of person that my parents should be proud of.