(no subject)
Still not caught up on anything despite my best intentions and a day off because of the holiday.
On my to post list:
-a ton of bandom links of various, idk, posts and tumblrs
-a bunch of recs in various fandoms
-photos
-something about recently consumed theater before I forget it
...so at least you know what you're missing. Instead I'm going to get some thoughts about my weight out.
I've lost some weight recently. I look good now, like, to myself, I think I look good, not perfect, there are still areas in my body that are crooked or not big enough or too big and it's the kind of refining that is less about fat and more about muscle definition and requires, like, work at the gym, which I have neither the energy nor the self-discipline for (even though I know I should exercise it's good for my health etc etc).
Anyway, here is my history with weight: I always felt pretty good about myself. Then I joined the army and like most of the girls I know, I gained weight, and it was fat, not muscle, and all of the girls I lived with drank diet coke so I switched to diet too, and everyone was watching their weight so I did too, and a bunch of girls were dieting and I did too, and I read somewhere that a healthy calorie intake was 2000 a day and a healthy diet one was 1500 a day and I figured I could stick to that but fewer would probably be better, and I started counting the calories of everything I ate. Everything. I didn't starve myself -- like, there might have been a few days where the only thing I ate was instant soup, but most days I'd try to just eat as little as possible and eat instant noodles instead of lunch and a light dinner and no snacks and whatever, it never lasted, I couldn't keep it up, and I definitely wasn't actually losing any weight. I'm not sure when I actually stopped -- it must have been three or four months like that, maybe more, I don't know -- but I know that it took me maybe a year, if not more, to stop counting the calories of everything I ate and feeling guilty for eating it. And that was a year of just -- counting calories in everything, calculating how much I was consuming and how much energy I was maybe burning up and just being unable to stop doing it, thinking about it all the time, whether I was eating or not, and all it ever did was make me feel bad.
And one day I just realized that hey, I hadn't thought about it for a while, and it was such a relief to realize that, because I'd tried stopping the constant obsessing about it beforehand but like the pink elephant, once you try not thinking about it, you can't. And one day it was just gone. My jeans size was maybe two sizes up from what it was before the army but I figured the whole counting thing wasn't worth it, and just -- dieting is not for me. Or I don't know, maybe that's too general statement, but the fact was that I'd gotten into that kind of obsessive, all-consuming YOU SUCK FOR EATING rut and it was all psychological and it felt so good to break out of it and it just felt like it wasn't worth it.
I'm lucky enough that I have -- I don't know what it is, good genes, certain eating habits I was raised on, whatever it is -- that I've always had a healthy BMI and the kind of weight changes I'm talking about are like, maybe 10 kilos, nothing too extreme. But that was when I decided that I was just going to... not pay attention to my weight, not in an actively dieting, weighing myself sort of way. I haven't weighed myself in... I think I weighed myself last year for some form or other, but in general I just don't want to; I don't want to have that sudden concrete basis for comparison. My philosophy over these past few years has just been to eat what I want to eat and try to be healthy and not go overboard with anything. I wasn't completely nonchalant -- I still wanted to lose those few extra army pounds, I wasn't like magically satisfied with my body -- but I had no idea how to, so I didn't try. My weight tended to fluctuate, a bit more, a bit less, but I've stayed around the same range.
Until now. I haven't tried to lose weight -- I'm not complaining, but I can't explain it either. I have suspicions; I had a long bout at the beginning of the year where I was just really bummed out at everything and basically holed myself up in my room with my laptop the entire day and only came out for, like, dinner, and this lasted a few weeks; and then I started working, and I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I wake up early every morning and get home late in the evening, or the fact that the only snacks we have at work are gross so I don't really snack much other than some wafers or biscuit with my coffee, and I don't take many because they're communal (and kind of gross). I eat enormous lunches at restaurants, but I'm too tired to make anything but a light dinner by the time I come home. So, that's the only thing I can figure out. It wasn't intentional, but it happened.
And I'm getting compliments now. Like, these past few years, whenever I lost some weight, someone or other might point it out, or ask whether I've lost weight, and I hate that question, because it's always supposed to be a compliment and I'm always supposed to be happy that either nature or my diet were successful in removing a few pounds that were apparently unattractive and obvious before.
And now -- I've been in three extended family occasions in the past month or so, and in each of them I've gotten pretty obnoxious comments about my weight that were all supposed to be compliments -- "Oh my god, you've lost so much weight, you look great!" and "How did you do it?" and "Come on, seriously, what's your secret?", and everyone's commented on it and I just want them to stop because what goes through my brain when I hear that is thank god you lost weight because you were ugly before, we just didn't want to say anything and you should stay this way. do whatever you need to do not to gain that weight back, and I can't, okay, that's the thing, I'm going to gain it back sometime or other, whether it's next month or next year or in three, and I don't want to become that person again, the one who feels like crap for every piece of cake she eats, the one who only thinks about what she is or isn't eating, all the time. Also STOP STARING AT AND TALKING ABOUT MY BODY, family, and cousin who wolf-whistled at me, even if it was a joke: NOT COOL, DUDE. DISTURBING, ACTUALLY.
At the same time, I'm not going to pretend I don't also get a tiny thrill whenever someone compliments me for the way I look, which -- it sucks. I know I'm not, like, the person who invented the struggle between wanting to look good and wanting people to think I look good and wanting people not to care about how I look -- but I'm just, I haven't found the place where it makes sense yet. I enjoy looking good, and I enjoy being as close as I can be to the beauty standard, and I hate that I do and I don't.
So, I don't know. I've started wearing dresses because all of a sudden I'm finding dresses that I think look good on me and I feel comfortable with, and that feels awesome. I found my old prom dress in the closet today and tried it on, and for the first time since high school it actually fits, and it looks awesome. 90% of my beautifully fitting pants that I bought last year are falling off, and that is definitely not awesome, because pants are expensive and wtf am I supposed to buy an entirely new wardrobe for however long this lasts before I'm a size up again? So that's less awesome, but also feels like petty whining. I've yet to discover whether looking subjectively hotter has any effect on having any kind of romantic life, but ha, I suspect it does not, just like it has no effect on my academic life of my professional life. If only I was thinner, if only my skin was clearer, if only I got that mole removed, if only my hair made sense, I just need to fix that one next step and I know, I'm sure everything will just fall into place... why do brains work that way, sigh.
And that's it. I'm not sure that I have any kind of point. I have lost weight, I feel good about it, I feel conflicted about it, I prefer it not be the center of attention, and my mom who spent a few years of my life urging me not to eat various foods because they're fat is making me get my blood tested tomorrow morning to make sure everything's fine. I'm pretty sure I'm healthy, but if it turns out I'm not this entire post will have been terribly ironic.
comments on Dreamwidth.
On my to post list:
-a ton of bandom links of various, idk, posts and tumblrs
-a bunch of recs in various fandoms
-photos
-something about recently consumed theater before I forget it
...so at least you know what you're missing. Instead I'm going to get some thoughts about my weight out.
I've lost some weight recently. I look good now, like, to myself, I think I look good, not perfect, there are still areas in my body that are crooked or not big enough or too big and it's the kind of refining that is less about fat and more about muscle definition and requires, like, work at the gym, which I have neither the energy nor the self-discipline for (even though I know I should exercise it's good for my health etc etc).
Anyway, here is my history with weight: I always felt pretty good about myself. Then I joined the army and like most of the girls I know, I gained weight, and it was fat, not muscle, and all of the girls I lived with drank diet coke so I switched to diet too, and everyone was watching their weight so I did too, and a bunch of girls were dieting and I did too, and I read somewhere that a healthy calorie intake was 2000 a day and a healthy diet one was 1500 a day and I figured I could stick to that but fewer would probably be better, and I started counting the calories of everything I ate. Everything. I didn't starve myself -- like, there might have been a few days where the only thing I ate was instant soup, but most days I'd try to just eat as little as possible and eat instant noodles instead of lunch and a light dinner and no snacks and whatever, it never lasted, I couldn't keep it up, and I definitely wasn't actually losing any weight. I'm not sure when I actually stopped -- it must have been three or four months like that, maybe more, I don't know -- but I know that it took me maybe a year, if not more, to stop counting the calories of everything I ate and feeling guilty for eating it. And that was a year of just -- counting calories in everything, calculating how much I was consuming and how much energy I was maybe burning up and just being unable to stop doing it, thinking about it all the time, whether I was eating or not, and all it ever did was make me feel bad.
And one day I just realized that hey, I hadn't thought about it for a while, and it was such a relief to realize that, because I'd tried stopping the constant obsessing about it beforehand but like the pink elephant, once you try not thinking about it, you can't. And one day it was just gone. My jeans size was maybe two sizes up from what it was before the army but I figured the whole counting thing wasn't worth it, and just -- dieting is not for me. Or I don't know, maybe that's too general statement, but the fact was that I'd gotten into that kind of obsessive, all-consuming YOU SUCK FOR EATING rut and it was all psychological and it felt so good to break out of it and it just felt like it wasn't worth it.
I'm lucky enough that I have -- I don't know what it is, good genes, certain eating habits I was raised on, whatever it is -- that I've always had a healthy BMI and the kind of weight changes I'm talking about are like, maybe 10 kilos, nothing too extreme. But that was when I decided that I was just going to... not pay attention to my weight, not in an actively dieting, weighing myself sort of way. I haven't weighed myself in... I think I weighed myself last year for some form or other, but in general I just don't want to; I don't want to have that sudden concrete basis for comparison. My philosophy over these past few years has just been to eat what I want to eat and try to be healthy and not go overboard with anything. I wasn't completely nonchalant -- I still wanted to lose those few extra army pounds, I wasn't like magically satisfied with my body -- but I had no idea how to, so I didn't try. My weight tended to fluctuate, a bit more, a bit less, but I've stayed around the same range.
Until now. I haven't tried to lose weight -- I'm not complaining, but I can't explain it either. I have suspicions; I had a long bout at the beginning of the year where I was just really bummed out at everything and basically holed myself up in my room with my laptop the entire day and only came out for, like, dinner, and this lasted a few weeks; and then I started working, and I don't know. Maybe it's the fact that I wake up early every morning and get home late in the evening, or the fact that the only snacks we have at work are gross so I don't really snack much other than some wafers or biscuit with my coffee, and I don't take many because they're communal (and kind of gross). I eat enormous lunches at restaurants, but I'm too tired to make anything but a light dinner by the time I come home. So, that's the only thing I can figure out. It wasn't intentional, but it happened.
And I'm getting compliments now. Like, these past few years, whenever I lost some weight, someone or other might point it out, or ask whether I've lost weight, and I hate that question, because it's always supposed to be a compliment and I'm always supposed to be happy that either nature or my diet were successful in removing a few pounds that were apparently unattractive and obvious before.
And now -- I've been in three extended family occasions in the past month or so, and in each of them I've gotten pretty obnoxious comments about my weight that were all supposed to be compliments -- "Oh my god, you've lost so much weight, you look great!" and "How did you do it?" and "Come on, seriously, what's your secret?", and everyone's commented on it and I just want them to stop because what goes through my brain when I hear that is thank god you lost weight because you were ugly before, we just didn't want to say anything and you should stay this way. do whatever you need to do not to gain that weight back, and I can't, okay, that's the thing, I'm going to gain it back sometime or other, whether it's next month or next year or in three, and I don't want to become that person again, the one who feels like crap for every piece of cake she eats, the one who only thinks about what she is or isn't eating, all the time. Also STOP STARING AT AND TALKING ABOUT MY BODY, family, and cousin who wolf-whistled at me, even if it was a joke: NOT COOL, DUDE. DISTURBING, ACTUALLY.
At the same time, I'm not going to pretend I don't also get a tiny thrill whenever someone compliments me for the way I look, which -- it sucks. I know I'm not, like, the person who invented the struggle between wanting to look good and wanting people to think I look good and wanting people not to care about how I look -- but I'm just, I haven't found the place where it makes sense yet. I enjoy looking good, and I enjoy being as close as I can be to the beauty standard, and I hate that I do and I don't.
So, I don't know. I've started wearing dresses because all of a sudden I'm finding dresses that I think look good on me and I feel comfortable with, and that feels awesome. I found my old prom dress in the closet today and tried it on, and for the first time since high school it actually fits, and it looks awesome. 90% of my beautifully fitting pants that I bought last year are falling off, and that is definitely not awesome, because pants are expensive and wtf am I supposed to buy an entirely new wardrobe for however long this lasts before I'm a size up again? So that's less awesome, but also feels like petty whining. I've yet to discover whether looking subjectively hotter has any effect on having any kind of romantic life, but ha, I suspect it does not, just like it has no effect on my academic life of my professional life. If only I was thinner, if only my skin was clearer, if only I got that mole removed, if only my hair made sense, I just need to fix that one next step and I know, I'm sure everything will just fall into place... why do brains work that way, sigh.
And that's it. I'm not sure that I have any kind of point. I have lost weight, I feel good about it, I feel conflicted about it, I prefer it not be the center of attention, and my mom who spent a few years of my life urging me not to eat various foods because they're fat is making me get my blood tested tomorrow morning to make sure everything's fine. I'm pretty sure I'm healthy, but if it turns out I'm not this entire post will have been terribly ironic.
comments on Dreamwidth.