Denver and such.
I think part of the reason I'm not very physically active is that I'm always paranoid I'm doing things wrong. I just tried to do pushups, but I know that my shoulder has experienced grinding in the past, so of course, I'm afraid that somehow my stance is wrong and that I'm just making my problems worse.
And then of course there's the constant personal shame I feel for how I weak I am. It's ridiculous, yes - to feel ashamed for something I've never really done much to improve anyway. I still think back to that weight training class I took in 11th grade. It was so fucking impersonal and macho, I want to just puke right now. It was more about the jocks, who in terms of guys made up all but three or four people in that class. There are so many times I should have just walked out and not gone back. Like the time I had to try to find a bench to join and no one would let me in, because they were either full (max of four guys), or the two people at the bench decided that I would just hold them back. Goddamn it! I definitely should have walked out when that happened. That is absolute bullshit, and should have to happen to no one. I'm sorry that I'd never lifted weights before that class. I guess that's something I have to pay some sort of price for.
I get so easily frustrated. Of course I'm going to start out shaky at first, but that doesn't prevent me from wanting to cry every time I try to do something active and feel like I'm a failure the first time. I'm too impatient for results. It's one of the reasons I quit choir. It's one of the reasons I quit a lot of things. Well, the main reason. The amount of times I've ever quit at something rather than persevere far outweighs the amount of times I've succeeded at a challenge.
But DAMN it.... I wish I had a fit body. That's the one thing more than anything. To look at myself and not have to make myself believe I look good. I know I'm not gross. But to have to constantly tell myself that is not something I want. I want to be able to look at myself and smile every time.
On another note, my mom doesn't understand that she prevents me from being in a good mood when I'm around her. When she up and decides to buy me a bunch of clothes from Old Navy, a store whose clothes I don't really like to begin with, and I'm supposed to jump out of bed the moment she gets home to show me, but instead I tell her I'll try them on later, and she gets pissy.... I don't feel particularly sorry. And then when she freaks out because my dentist recommended that I get x-rays, because I hadn't had them since 2003, but six months ago she got into an argument with my father because his insurance wouldn't completely cover dental x-rays, and I was supposed to remember all the way back then, let alone distinguish between what she says as bitchass sarcasm, and what she actually means..... I also don't feel particularly sorry.
No, I don't like it when she buys me clothes, because I can never tell her that I don't like the stores she goes to, that I don't buy clothes because they're cheap, and that I buy them because they look good... that's her fault. Ok, I'm a little high maintenance when it comes to what I wear. Of course I recognize that. I expect things to fit a certain way, and if they don't, I simply won't buy them. And Old Navy carries nothing in the fits that I like. So don't fucking go out without telling me and buy me a bunch of clothes, and then tell me to give back what I don't like, when I damn well know beforehand that I won't like the majority of it.
And why can I never find a guy who is both what I want physically and personally? Oh that's right.... I think I found a potential guy like that, but I'm moving away, and he moved back to Purdue the day after we really spent time together.
Met another rather attractive guy today, but yeah, his personality is definitely not what I would date. He has no sense of modesty, and I like modest, conservative guys.
All of the above is why I'm so ready to just fucking move away. And to be honest, I don't plan to come back after the first two summers. I'll find a place to stay in Denver. Visit on the holidays. Because if I come back and live at home again, I'll go crazy. If I come back and tell my mom I don't want to live with her, she'd break down. Definitely need to find a stable serving job, be good at it this time, and make good money to live on my own.
And then of course there's the constant personal shame I feel for how I weak I am. It's ridiculous, yes - to feel ashamed for something I've never really done much to improve anyway. I still think back to that weight training class I took in 11th grade. It was so fucking impersonal and macho, I want to just puke right now. It was more about the jocks, who in terms of guys made up all but three or four people in that class. There are so many times I should have just walked out and not gone back. Like the time I had to try to find a bench to join and no one would let me in, because they were either full (max of four guys), or the two people at the bench decided that I would just hold them back. Goddamn it! I definitely should have walked out when that happened. That is absolute bullshit, and should have to happen to no one. I'm sorry that I'd never lifted weights before that class. I guess that's something I have to pay some sort of price for.
I get so easily frustrated. Of course I'm going to start out shaky at first, but that doesn't prevent me from wanting to cry every time I try to do something active and feel like I'm a failure the first time. I'm too impatient for results. It's one of the reasons I quit choir. It's one of the reasons I quit a lot of things. Well, the main reason. The amount of times I've ever quit at something rather than persevere far outweighs the amount of times I've succeeded at a challenge.
But DAMN it.... I wish I had a fit body. That's the one thing more than anything. To look at myself and not have to make myself believe I look good. I know I'm not gross. But to have to constantly tell myself that is not something I want. I want to be able to look at myself and smile every time.
On another note, my mom doesn't understand that she prevents me from being in a good mood when I'm around her. When she up and decides to buy me a bunch of clothes from Old Navy, a store whose clothes I don't really like to begin with, and I'm supposed to jump out of bed the moment she gets home to show me, but instead I tell her I'll try them on later, and she gets pissy.... I don't feel particularly sorry. And then when she freaks out because my dentist recommended that I get x-rays, because I hadn't had them since 2003, but six months ago she got into an argument with my father because his insurance wouldn't completely cover dental x-rays, and I was supposed to remember all the way back then, let alone distinguish between what she says as bitchass sarcasm, and what she actually means..... I also don't feel particularly sorry.
No, I don't like it when she buys me clothes, because I can never tell her that I don't like the stores she goes to, that I don't buy clothes because they're cheap, and that I buy them because they look good... that's her fault. Ok, I'm a little high maintenance when it comes to what I wear. Of course I recognize that. I expect things to fit a certain way, and if they don't, I simply won't buy them. And Old Navy carries nothing in the fits that I like. So don't fucking go out without telling me and buy me a bunch of clothes, and then tell me to give back what I don't like, when I damn well know beforehand that I won't like the majority of it.
And why can I never find a guy who is both what I want physically and personally? Oh that's right.... I think I found a potential guy like that, but I'm moving away, and he moved back to Purdue the day after we really spent time together.
Met another rather attractive guy today, but yeah, his personality is definitely not what I would date. He has no sense of modesty, and I like modest, conservative guys.
All of the above is why I'm so ready to just fucking move away. And to be honest, I don't plan to come back after the first two summers. I'll find a place to stay in Denver. Visit on the holidays. Because if I come back and live at home again, I'll go crazy. If I come back and tell my mom I don't want to live with her, she'd break down. Definitely need to find a stable serving job, be good at it this time, and make good money to live on my own.