Having Body Dismorphic Disorder (the fat kind, not the skinny Ana/Mia kind) means I don't see my body the way that everyone else sees my body. Where you might see someone who looks like a dump truck, or a beached whale if I happen to be in my blue swimsuit, I see someone... pretty. Luscious. Voluptuous. But nothing horrific or 'Dear God, Make it Stop' kind of fat.
I used to be in good shape. I passed my last Navy PRT with a Good High score on everything, while still failing at the weight/body fat portion. In my head, I was a fit fat girl. Rare, but possible.
Jacob, my very nice, non-judgemental trainer at my gym has been really nice to me. He was polite, and he laughs at all my jokes. Except yesterday, He Kicked My Ass. Sadly, it didn't take much.
This was devastating for me. I had my entire self perception shattered in less than an hour. I'm Fat. F-A-T. I'm a Fat Girl. I wear an XXL tee shirt to the gym. I'm NOT fit. I couldn't finish the sets he had laid out after a mere 20 minutes. Today, EVERYTHING hurts. Legs, Arms, Back... Advil is my best friend right now. I could barely walk this morning. My bad shoulder hates me right now, and is trying to pull me forward into a permanent hunchback. My bad ankle seems to feel walking in a straight line is no longer part of it's job description. But... I can handle the physical pain. I used to live with much, much worse physical pain. Right now the issue is the emotional pain of realizing I am not the person I thought I was, and learning to see myself in a more accurate manner. I'm psychologically crushed.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Morphine, STAT!
I am in so much pain today, it's ridiculous.
One day of exercise and my body is obviously trying to reject it, because every muscle is screaming at me right now to spend my day in bed.
That's not going to happen. But all the happy bunny fuckers out there who want to say that 'you just have to push through the pain' are going to be tasting shoe leather because pain makes me much less inclined to tolerate all you fitness hipsters.
Ow ow ow ow ow.......
One day of exercise and my body is obviously trying to reject it, because every muscle is screaming at me right now to spend my day in bed.
That's not going to happen. But all the happy bunny fuckers out there who want to say that 'you just have to push through the pain' are going to be tasting shoe leather because pain makes me much less inclined to tolerate all you fitness hipsters.
Ow ow ow ow ow.......
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
2011 - The year of Me
I am going to be 32 this year. The terror of dying alone with cats eating my lonely flesh for weeks before I'm discovered didn't hit me at thirty like it does most people. It hit me in January of this year, while I was in California helping out my older sister with her kids. I realized, at 32, I'm at the decision age of if I want kids or not. Do I want kids? I don't know. But the pressure to decide is terrifying. I always assumed I would eventually get married and have kids, in that order, but it never seemed like a priority in my life. If I have a child next year, I will be 51 when they are graduating high school. My mom was 38 when I graduated. The jump from 20 to 32 seems alot bigger when you're looking at 38 to 51.
I know it's more than that. Even if I never own cats, that ending might still happen (minus the cats). I know that loving myself as a fat girl is much healthier (mentally) than hating myself as a thin girl. Statistically, I have a much better chance at mate selection if I fit within the physical norms of society. (Anthro Nerd Much?)
So I joined a gym. Paid out the extra couple hundred bucks for training sessions. Got weighed and measured yesterday by Jacob, who seems like a very nice guy, non judgemental, and who is building a plan for me. Today is the first day of my 2011 fitness regime. I'm not looking forward to it. I hate exercise, sweating, being out of breath. I hate being in the gym and feeling like everyone is watching me, like I don't belong there. Although, the gym is the best place to get healthy. I don't feel I can work out at home, despite the dust gathering cross-trainer, because my family makes some kind of comment everytime I've ever attempted to sweat there.
This is all very difficult for me. I've decided that 2011 is the year of me. This year, I work on self improvement. I promise myself that I will always do my homework, go to the gym, wash my face every night and moisturize religiously. I will eliminate toxic relationships in my life. Right now, that means that I'm on a testosterone diet. I've eliminated all men, all flirtations from my life in an attempt to cleanse myself of that need for casual intimacy. I'm striving to be a better person, inside and out, so that maybe I can find real intimacy - and not feel threatened by it.
I know it's more than that. Even if I never own cats, that ending might still happen (minus the cats). I know that loving myself as a fat girl is much healthier (mentally) than hating myself as a thin girl. Statistically, I have a much better chance at mate selection if I fit within the physical norms of society. (Anthro Nerd Much?)
So I joined a gym. Paid out the extra couple hundred bucks for training sessions. Got weighed and measured yesterday by Jacob, who seems like a very nice guy, non judgemental, and who is building a plan for me. Today is the first day of my 2011 fitness regime. I'm not looking forward to it. I hate exercise, sweating, being out of breath. I hate being in the gym and feeling like everyone is watching me, like I don't belong there. Although, the gym is the best place to get healthy. I don't feel I can work out at home, despite the dust gathering cross-trainer, because my family makes some kind of comment everytime I've ever attempted to sweat there.
This is all very difficult for me. I've decided that 2011 is the year of me. This year, I work on self improvement. I promise myself that I will always do my homework, go to the gym, wash my face every night and moisturize religiously. I will eliminate toxic relationships in my life. Right now, that means that I'm on a testosterone diet. I've eliminated all men, all flirtations from my life in an attempt to cleanse myself of that need for casual intimacy. I'm striving to be a better person, inside and out, so that maybe I can find real intimacy - and not feel threatened by it.
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