2003-10-30

I am back from Philly. Two weeks of frolic... or was it? Find out tomorrow. Same bat time Same bat... blog. I don't feel like posting details now. It requires more time than I have energy to give.

I do, however, have some thoughts to share. I went to Albertsons to get Grandpop some creamer. As I went, I saw hershey kisses on sale. I grabbed them because I'd been craving me some chocolate. I started down the aisle toward the registers when I saw an extremely adorable guy. Take Rufus Sewell and Micheal Vartan. Force them to reproduce. This would be the strange, but wonderful offspring.

I immediately turned to examine the olive oil (because that's what April does when she sees a hot guy. She refuses to enjoy his hotness. She's wierd). I also hid the candy at my side, then smoothly turned up the aisle and went down another to get to the checkout. Why did I do this? There wasn't a thought about doing it. I was hearing "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts" in my head (don't ask) and, without thinking, just did this. I was ashamed to be spotted buying candy. Do all girls do this? Or only the chubbies? Or only the crazies? --- I think I may be a little crazy.

I gained weight over vacay (as one does) and am now a strapping fourteen. I don't know how I feel about that. Part of me says I still have a good shape, so what does a size or two matter. I mean, my clothes are fourteens, right? They just fit right now. None of that pesky looseness.

Then I tell myself I'm full of it. I'd kill to proudly bare my midriff and I know it. I'd kill to show the arms without shame. I'd kill to... hey, look! Candy!

But, damn it! I like candy. I like sandwiches. I don't like celery. I don't want to count calories or carbs for the rest of my life. I don't want to be in the flipping Zone or do South Beach or Atkins. I just want a gosh darned sandwich with a chocolate chaser. If I want these things, I have to love me as I am, right?

I am just so confused. I'm having a body identity crisis (this happens almost daily, but seemed very severe as today is my birthday and I'm doing a lot of thinking about me). Here's the crux of it. I want to be a fourteen and proud. Sometimes I even am. Sometimes I like my big, comfortable, squishy self. Then I catch sight of me from certain angles in fitting rooms or windows or the bathroom. Then I fill up with self-loathing and swear to have nothing but water and grapefruit juice for a week.

Then I like me again. I can't decide what I want out of my body. So it keeps going twelve to fourteen and back and up and down without much encouragement or permission from me. I need to figure out what I want before the body breaks down for good.

I might need therapy. Switch might to probably. And then switch probably to definitely. Sigh.