the slattern in the mirror
I feel like I have some kind of very minor body dysmorphia going on, because, facts:
1. I currently weigh as little as I have ever weighed since age 15.
2. I currently wear the smallest pants size I have ever worn since age 15.
3. My weight and height are within the BMI "normal" range.
4. I generally walk at least 30 minutes a day, usually while wearing a 26-lb weight on my back.
But, also facts:
5. I hate what I see in the mirror.
6. I feel fatter and uglier than I did when I weighed thirty pounds more.
7. I feel like I never look nice anymore.
People tell me I look great, and I believe that they are being sincere, but I don't see it.
I had a momentary thrill at the store today when I picked out a bunch of size 12s and went to the changing room with them, only to discover that every single one was too large. I have never bought a bottom in a size lower than 12. This was super exciting. I even updated Facebook from the changing room. (I ended up buying a pair of jeans, size 10, and two pairs of sweatpants, one L and one M; the L is a bit large but has a drawstring and I hope it will be nice for maternity.)
I'm capable of being excited by pulling on the smallest pants I've ever bought and having them feel great, but then I just ended up feeling completely depressed when I changed into my pajamas tonight.
Is it because I'm mostly wearing clothes that don't fit me that I feel so slovenly and unattractive?
I've been putting off buying new things because I was hoping to get pregnant. But yesterday I was running to catch the bus (I did catch it, yay) and my jeans literally nearly fell off of me. When you're in danger of de-pantsing in the middle of an intersection, it's time to get some new pants.
It all just goes with this feeling I have like I don't know how to evaluate myself at all. I'm always comparing my private worst with the public best of other people. I try to reassure myself that I'm doing my personal best, but I doubt myself.
I mean even right now I feel unspeakably lazy that I'm sitting on the couch feeling depressed and blogging while drinking mint tea instead of doing dishes or washing the dining room floor or something.
---
I was supposed to go to Washington today to bank, but Pippa kicked off the morning with a tumble that cut her forehead and required a trip to the doctor's, so there go the day's plans. But when she napped I got to go do the aforementioned clothing shopping, which was pleasant, and once I get them washed I will have more to wear.
I keep thinking and talking about it but I really need to go ahead and make arrangements with my cousins-in-law for some regular mother's-helper-ing. If I could get once or twice a week a couple of hours that I could count on, I could really make headway in some blocked projects, especially the office and bedroom. (The problem with these two rooms is that I can't do them when Pippa's awake, because they aren't childproofed so I can't bring her in with me, and she won't tolerate being left out in the living room alone for more than 15 minutes or so, not to mention that she needs to be monitored even in the child-proofed room; and I can't do them when she's asleep because that's where she's sleeping. The wall is very thin between the two rooms and you can hear everything.)
I want to sort out all the clothes, have a clear out of things that aren't wanted anymore, store away seasonal items, and childproof the bedroom so that we can convert the crib into a toddler bed. I think if I worked at this for two hours a week I could probably be done in a month. I just need the help.
The Husband and I often ask each other if it's weird that we can't seem to manage to keep the place clean and organized without having to resort to paid mother's helpers when I'm staying at home. But I don't think I should feel guilty about this. If my mother lived nearby, I'd have more free babysitting than I could handle, lol.
Those of you with free babysitting family/friends nearby, cherish that. I really wish I had that resource to draw on.
We used to be able to make it work by working on Gordon's days off, but that's getting impossible for his stress level. He's not getting enough sleep and if can't catch up on his days off he's going to blow.
---
The Husband came home from choir practice just as I was finishing that paragraph and we had a good talk. And also he made me a bowl of ice cream. So I feel a bit better now mood wise.
I think tomorrow I will call up the cousins and see if I can get one of them to help me within a few days. I think if I can get the first phase of the bedroom clear-out done and have my drawers switched into fall/winter mode with all the summer stuff packed away that will give me a sense of accomplishment. Right now the summer stuff is all in a heap and the bedroom is a mess because Pippa climbed out of her crib and pulled EVERYTHING out of the bottom drawers, and I didn't have time to sort them because of aforementioned reasons, so everything is heaped on top of the cabinets, and it looks awful and impossible.
I think having a messy bedroom is bad for my mood because that's what I contemplate every night before falling asleep.
1. I currently weigh as little as I have ever weighed since age 15.
2. I currently wear the smallest pants size I have ever worn since age 15.
3. My weight and height are within the BMI "normal" range.
4. I generally walk at least 30 minutes a day, usually while wearing a 26-lb weight on my back.
But, also facts:
5. I hate what I see in the mirror.
6. I feel fatter and uglier than I did when I weighed thirty pounds more.
7. I feel like I never look nice anymore.
People tell me I look great, and I believe that they are being sincere, but I don't see it.
I had a momentary thrill at the store today when I picked out a bunch of size 12s and went to the changing room with them, only to discover that every single one was too large. I have never bought a bottom in a size lower than 12. This was super exciting. I even updated Facebook from the changing room. (I ended up buying a pair of jeans, size 10, and two pairs of sweatpants, one L and one M; the L is a bit large but has a drawstring and I hope it will be nice for maternity.)
I'm capable of being excited by pulling on the smallest pants I've ever bought and having them feel great, but then I just ended up feeling completely depressed when I changed into my pajamas tonight.
Is it because I'm mostly wearing clothes that don't fit me that I feel so slovenly and unattractive?
I've been putting off buying new things because I was hoping to get pregnant. But yesterday I was running to catch the bus (I did catch it, yay) and my jeans literally nearly fell off of me. When you're in danger of de-pantsing in the middle of an intersection, it's time to get some new pants.
It all just goes with this feeling I have like I don't know how to evaluate myself at all. I'm always comparing my private worst with the public best of other people. I try to reassure myself that I'm doing my personal best, but I doubt myself.
I mean even right now I feel unspeakably lazy that I'm sitting on the couch feeling depressed and blogging while drinking mint tea instead of doing dishes or washing the dining room floor or something.
---
I was supposed to go to Washington today to bank, but Pippa kicked off the morning with a tumble that cut her forehead and required a trip to the doctor's, so there go the day's plans. But when she napped I got to go do the aforementioned clothing shopping, which was pleasant, and once I get them washed I will have more to wear.
I keep thinking and talking about it but I really need to go ahead and make arrangements with my cousins-in-law for some regular mother's-helper-ing. If I could get once or twice a week a couple of hours that I could count on, I could really make headway in some blocked projects, especially the office and bedroom. (The problem with these two rooms is that I can't do them when Pippa's awake, because they aren't childproofed so I can't bring her in with me, and she won't tolerate being left out in the living room alone for more than 15 minutes or so, not to mention that she needs to be monitored even in the child-proofed room; and I can't do them when she's asleep because that's where she's sleeping. The wall is very thin between the two rooms and you can hear everything.)
I want to sort out all the clothes, have a clear out of things that aren't wanted anymore, store away seasonal items, and childproof the bedroom so that we can convert the crib into a toddler bed. I think if I worked at this for two hours a week I could probably be done in a month. I just need the help.
The Husband and I often ask each other if it's weird that we can't seem to manage to keep the place clean and organized without having to resort to paid mother's helpers when I'm staying at home. But I don't think I should feel guilty about this. If my mother lived nearby, I'd have more free babysitting than I could handle, lol.
Those of you with free babysitting family/friends nearby, cherish that. I really wish I had that resource to draw on.
We used to be able to make it work by working on Gordon's days off, but that's getting impossible for his stress level. He's not getting enough sleep and if can't catch up on his days off he's going to blow.
---
The Husband came home from choir practice just as I was finishing that paragraph and we had a good talk. And also he made me a bowl of ice cream. So I feel a bit better now mood wise.
I think tomorrow I will call up the cousins and see if I can get one of them to help me within a few days. I think if I can get the first phase of the bedroom clear-out done and have my drawers switched into fall/winter mode with all the summer stuff packed away that will give me a sense of accomplishment. Right now the summer stuff is all in a heap and the bedroom is a mess because Pippa climbed out of her crib and pulled EVERYTHING out of the bottom drawers, and I didn't have time to sort them because of aforementioned reasons, so everything is heaped on top of the cabinets, and it looks awful and impossible.
I think having a messy bedroom is bad for my mood because that's what I contemplate every night before falling asleep.