I’ve been in an odd sort of mood lately.

Well, I’m always in an odd sort of mood.   But, that’s beside the point.

I’ve been noticing things lately.  Not good things.  Things that are a bit worrying.

During my anorexic years, I became increasingly aware of the shapes of other people.
I wasn’t cruel to them, but I couldn’t help seeing myself in them if that makes any sense.  Growing up, I was a ‘big’ girl…  why am I even trying to soften it up?

I was taller than most people in elementary and middle school.  I had long hair, glasses, and developed physically at an earlier age than most of my peers.  I was also overweight.  Not a little.   A lot.

As I lost weight and went from a size 24/26 to a size zero —  Yep.  That’s right.   One of my crowning achievements of my anorexia – I felt better about myself physically.  I felt more attractive —  well, just attractive because I didn’t consider myself to be before.

I actually took joy in clothes shopping, something that I never did before.  I could wear clothes that I felt represented me more than just the stuff from Lane Bryant.  Strangers on the street became more friendly.   I enjoyed it when Jason told me that some guy was checking me out.

All of these things opened up to me and it was — awesome.

I guess I find of finally felt like the popular kids in high school did.

It’s like an entirely different world.
It was a better one.  Well, better for me at least at that particular time.
I drew so much confidence from it, it was crazy.    I guess it really showed me what I was missing, in a way.

Damn, this is difficult to explain.

Ugly duck to a swan.   Worm to a butterfly.
That sort of thing.

I was determined that I would never go back to my overweight self, a broken that I have somewhat broken.
I’m certainly not a size 24, but I am overweight.

A lot of that is my fault.   When I got out of the House, I wanted to make my mom, in particular, happy.  Every time I ate something, she was visibly happy.   It did my heart good.  Also, everything tasted sooooooo good.  After living off water, shirataki noodles, and green beans for a couple of years, ice cream, Oreos, chocolate milk…   whatever was a Godsend.  I just could not get enough of everything.

So, the pretty good body shape I had when I left the House changed to what it is now.

That’s been a year or two now, you know?

I’ve been trying to get that balance back.  Not size zero, but not size 24.    What I’m at now qualifies as that, but it doesn’t make me happy.    It’s not where I want to be.  I’m not sure why.

Overall, I think I’m in pretty good shape.   Not everyone can do what I do at the gym and I’m proud of that.  Most of the gym regulars know who I am and people give me compliments just for no apparent reason.    They say that I’m their ‘bunny.’   They’re chasing me so they can do what I can.

But, I’m jealous of the skinny women and fearful of the bigger women.   Not jealous or fearful of what them specifically, but their body shapes.  I don’t want to be that girl who can slip through a floor crack, but I don’t want to be that marshmallow that’s on the elliptical who looks like her thighs and belly are having a continual earthquake.

I feel like I’m breaking all kind of social etiquette here.

This boils down to body image, particularly my body image.   Anti-depressant dispensing Dr. S says I’m going to have a continual fight and doubts about my body image until the day I die.  It’s going to affect what I eat, what I buy, and how I just generally enjoy life.

I’d love to prove her wrong, but I’m not sure how.

My body isn’t cooperating.  It’s not changing.   It’s not becoming more light.

Hum…

I really hate relying on anyone for anything, but I want to feel attractive and desirable.  I don’t want every…

Bleh.

Maybe this is something Jason can help with.  Can you make me feel attractive and desirable all the time?

I missed my chance at being a lollicon.   But, I don’t want to miss my chance at being a miilf.  I can’t have children.   Miilf wouldn’t be correct.    I’d have to be a cougar I guess.