Tuesday, March 26, 2013
I.... am not going to say I'm fat. That would be rude, and I'm right here and I would totally hear myself say it. Er. Type it.
It's just that I've been working (er... shall I be honest and say "using work as an excuse") at this poo job for 7 months now and I wear the same dumb clothing every single day and then I come home and put on my slob clothes and well...
You know how spring cleaning is a thing?
Yeah, me neither. Apparently it's a thing because my mom is FREAKING OUT vacuuming every poor little dust bunny up and it's like woah there tiger.
Anyways so she is rearranging all the furniture and she gave me a new dresser to put some of my clothes in and I thought to myself, "Hmm. I am only one person. WHY do I have all these clothes?I have a closet with clothes in it. I have a small dresser with clothes in it. And I have a big dresser with massive drawers which is also, why yes it is, full of clothes! Huh!"
So WHAT did I do all full of coffee at 9 pm on a work night?
Freakin try 'em all on.
And you know what, you guys?
I have a belly which apparently now jiggles when I put on skirts. And pants. And stuff.
Apparently, it's been hiding there all along under my work shirt!
Weighed myself, and I am 123 pounds. Which is NOT A LOT. Not much more than I've been at for just about ever. So WHY the jiggling? Why the protrusion? Why the hideous overhang when I wear previously attractive skirts? Hmm? Hmm? HMM?? TELL ME THAT!
I think my job is stressing me out (Look at me blaiming the ol' job again) so much that I have become an unhealthy blob. AND that soon I'll be like a bajillion pounds. That's how it works, you know. It's like hmm I'm 4 pounds heavier than I used to be and then all of a sudden BAJILLION!
Here I am again.
AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN.
Sensing a trend here with the sparkrats no sparkrats sparkrats no sparkrats. It's like pick one or the other.
Oh. And after I went through all my clothes and tried them all on and pinched my practically non-existent but still thoroughly disgusting fat and untoned bits, I DIDN'T EVEN GET RID OF ANY! OK OK OK there were like 4 skirts that had to go because I must have been on crack when I bought them they were so ugly and ill-fitting and not me. And oh my goodness ya'll: I HAVEN'T BOUGHT ANY CLOTHES SINCE I WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL! Seriously. Like, the majority of the things that I own have been chilling in my possession since I was like 14. Wow. It's uh, time to let these things go, Cecilia.
And yet... the things I got rid of (The 7 things out of like 899) are things I bought fairly recently. I swear to god I no longer wear weird purple plaid black lace goth punk skirts. (At least not in public)
And yet I can't get rid of them (hee hee plural. Seriously.) Because I LOVE THEM. They make me look ridiculous and, yes, fat, and perhaps a little deranged but I can't NOT own them.
Am I hoarding clothes? I have a child; I can't possibly bring myself to wear these skirts in public. And yet I can't get rid of them. But maybe I should. Buy a whole new wardrobe with all that money I have (HAH!) and put on this facade of "I'm successful and stylish and oh so hip." But, dangit, you can't do that if your belly jiggles!
Wibbldey Wobbledy Timey Wimey.
Like, uh, did I ever mention that when I had a 10 pound kid my skin never went back to normal? Yeah. I love my son and all but if I had been blessed with the foresight to see exactly how ripply my belly was to become (And how messy my house was to become) I think I would have remained a virgin for life.
FREAKING Continue to blog at 11 pm Cecilia. On a work night!
My unhappiness has penetrated so far into the fiber of my being that I think my body is protesting it's very existence and is killing itself. Like, if I got brain cancer I wouldn't be surprised. Like if my brain is so sick of self-loathing thoughts it just decided to end it all.
HELLO! Perhaps I need some ... I dont know anti-psychotics.
BY THE WAY
if you take lots and lots of anti-psychotics you will be very unhappy by the way your face refuses to move (Knowledge I've also kept with me since I was 14)
I smoked clove cigarettes today.
I quit (re-quit) smoking after I realized that I was smoking in my car (EWWW). Ok so like I smoked from like 14-21. Then I quit like 2 and a half years. Then I smoked for like 1 month (1 pack lasted that time) then I quit again for another month then I bought cloves so that I could justify smoking in my car by being like, "It's like incense!" (IT'S NOT.)
I was wondering today on my drive home, why do I want to smoke? What is that all about? I was like "Am I trying to be a badass?" Then I laughed out loud because um. You don't know me, so you wouldn't get it. But here's some helpful hints: I knit for fun. I don't ever go to parties or leave my house pretty much ever except to go to work and buy eggs. I drive the speed limit EVERY TIME EVER. I am so much a people pleaser and I'm hecka shy and quiet. Such a badass.
But I'm a nervous wreck. Truly.
You know why I blog on sparkpeople when I'm in a mood like this?
Honestly because nobody knows I'm here. NOBODY.
I used to blog on my regular blog but now I have readers. like 74 of them. You can't pop in after 300 entries about your happy pretend life and then be like "I'M SO SICK OF BEING AN ALCOHOLIC, PERFECTIONIST SCAREDY CAT! AND OH MY GOD MY BODY IS MADE OUT OF FLESH WHICH JIGGLES!" and then expect your readers to still think you're normal.
I have 8,973 spark points.