A vacation.
A wedding.
A honeymoon.
(cough) FitBloggin’ (cough cough)
It’s all the same.
No matter how long I’ve been on this “recovered dieter” wagon, I still have the same affliction. The same burning desire that we have all fed along the way. We pick an upcoming event, and then we proceed to “get hot” for it.
Some are more diligent about it than others, but we all try. In the case of some people, this means going on a crash diet, and starving themselves until their hips/stomach/arms/parts have lost the desired amount of jiggle. For others, it’s just a matter of hitting the gym for a few weeks and ‘toning up’ those areas that cause psychological distress.
Personally: all of the above.
I’d love to shrink my stomach, tone up my thighs, and have the arms of a yogi. I’d also love to somehow shrink the size of my head/face/large chin/neck so that it doesn’t appear so enormous in pictures. I mean, I have a big head and all, but sometimes it just looks out of hand. And can someone please make me instantly more photogenic? The fact that the camera does not love me actually causes me anxiety in certain situations (vacations, weddings, honeymoons, **cough**FitBloggin’**cough**cough**).
I feel this intense internal need to be “better” than I am right now, so that I can make YOU think that I am even more wonderful than I really am. Based solely upon how I look.
…Based solely upon how I look.
Not based on the ease by which I laugh with you.
Not based on the way that I listen when you talk.
Not by the candor of my words, or the connection of our conversation.
For me to realize that YOU would find me wonderful based upon these things is not an automatic reaction. Although I would find YOU wonderful if you showed me these qualities, I do not give myself the same courtesy.
At times like these, I still judge myself based upon the size of my muffin top. The girth of my posterior. The size of my chin. I automatically assume that you will not like me unless my clothes fit me looser. I don’t think that I DESERVE to be your friend unless my back fat is a little less obvious under my too-tight Victoria’s Secret Wave bra.
Rationally, I know that none of this is true. I know that regardless of the state of the cellulite on my ass, you will either like me or you won’t. It has everything to do with personalities and chemistry and girl power; none of which is related to the dimples on my stomach. I’ve never heard of anyone who decided not to be friends with someone because their arms were too flabby, or because their ass was too big. I know that these are not rational thoughts.
Regardless of whether it’s rational or not, it still makes me want to jump off of my “recovered dieter” wagon and jump on board with the ‘next best diet thing’. I’m not immune to the pressure. It’s still not easy.
And if I had a scale, I’d probably be weighing myself 5 times today.
Because right now, I want to lose 10 pounds.
Because right now, my bra is too tight to be friends with you.
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