Saturday, February 28, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
I promise never to discuss my weight in front of my children.
I hate dysmorphia. And I hate that I feel like I'm using a scapegoat when I say I "sorta" have it.
I hate standing in front of the mirror, looking at a picture, and worrying about the scale.
I hate KNOWING that I'm normal, but that not being good enough for me.
About once a week, I stand in front of a wall and do the Tinkerbell nonsense and justify my measurements to myself. I look at how far apart my hands are, then imagine a girl that size walking by me and I judge myself on how I would judge her. It's the worst thing I could possibly do. It's not healthy for me, nor for the people who are my size.
I hate hiding the crazy.
Usually, writing bad things down helps me work on them.
Monday, February 16, 2009
With 4 days before the best weekend of the year, and after about 12 hours of sleep over the span of 3 days, I pretentiously decide to pass a girl on the sidewalk. I didn't HAVE to, but I hate being behind people, so I thought, "Why not?"
Here's why not: After stepping off the sidewalk and taking three steps, my right foot finds a HOLE in the asphalt and decides that it's a good place to rest, while the rest of my body wants to keep on trekking.
Yes, that's right. Right now, I'm in my bed, where I have been for the last 10 hours, with my foot on top of two pillows and under a bag of ice, with a sprained ankle.
And the only thing I can say besides "WHY!?" is this:
Hopefully, it isn't too bad and I can be out and about by Wednesday. My mom is on her way up here, because I'm five, and though I thought I could handle the excruciating pain on my own, I was wrong. She's bringing me my ankle brace (this is my third sprain on the same ankle, but my first one in 6 years) and she thinks it's fractured. God, I hope not.
I wanted to work out today. It was supposed to be a simple day. I even went to class instead of skipping my last class to nap like I'd originally planned!
The good news is, many fantastic things did happen this week. It kind of keeps my mind off the throbbing.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Last night was incredibly emotional for me. I felt overwhelmed and under-qualified at my life. It started by reading the Post Secret blog and book, then I cried at a Mr. Rogers video, then I read my Bible until I got a tear on one of the pages. Then I freaked out because I hate when paper is damaged. I didn't go out last night because I was too embarrassed and I didn't want to shower again.
Today, the world was ready to make it up to me. I saw a wonderful old friend and learned about water conservation in my favorite class. I got a cute skirt in the mail and then went to a friend's to watch "The Office." I ate a McFlurry for the first time in 9 years then came home and ate a clementine.
It doesn't seem like much, but I had an excellent day.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Well, I did see a deer. Three, actually. One on the side of the road (kinda sad) and two on a woman's skirt. The BACKSIDE of the skirt.
By "deer," I don't mean those cute Bambi-like deer or the Japanese-style deer that are cute and whimsical. I mean wild, find-'em-in-my-yard-and-feed-'em-corn, have-a-friend-whose-dad-hunts-and-has-one-on-his-wall, ACTUAL deer. (I can't find a picture of the skirt, but it was knitted and the deer looked exactly like this, position and everything) And by "woman," I don't mean a hipster college girl who's too cool to care what she wears and thereby, pulls off [almost] anything she wears. I mean that girl's mother. A mother who was obviously scared to death of her age. Even my grandma commented on it, and she thinks EVERYTHING matches (no lie-- every day, she tells either me, my mom, or one of my sisters that "It doesn't matter what you put together. These kids nowadays are just wearing whatever. Everything matches everything!" to which we reply half the time with, "No, not exactly..." and the other half, "Lousy kids").
Dear potential, future child(ren) of mine,Hello. This is a nice little blast from the past, n'est-ce pas? You're welcome. In return, you must NEVER let me wear a skirt with wild animals on it. I don't care how old I am, because I figure that if I'm old enough to have kids (let alone kids who can read), I'm too old to be whimsical (read: crazy).Thanks kid(s),Love,Treena (What I will be called)
Since I'm on this kick of getting what I want (or at least what I write down), I want something fantastic to happen this week.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
So far, I've kept 2, nay, 3 secrets this week!
I've forgotten how much fun it is to keep something to myself.
I've also forgotten how good I am at it!
Why did I stop?! Desperation obviously leads to undesirable situations.
["Situations" is obviously not the right word here, but I can't for the life of me think of any other word!]
The week is almost over and I should pack up tonight.
I have a project to my right that I'm in love with. It's coming together nicely and even though it's simple, it's a little more intricate than usual. I've been picking up and putting down every few minutes for a week now. If I could just FOCUS, I'd have finished by now (well, and if I hadn't gotten halfway done then unraveled the whole thing last week!), but school tends to get in the way. These papers are killing me. I have a headache that no amount of ibuprofen can settle. The only thing that slightly helped was an HOUR of cardio. (What was I thinking?! I won't be able to move tomorrow! I need to move! Or, even worse, I have an hour and a half drive tomorrow morning. What if I get used to sitting, then fall out of my car when I get home? Oh, dear.)
I know it's winter, but when I go home this weekend, I want to see a deer. I hadn't realized how much I've missed seeing wildlife until yesterday (and the "dear" helped jog my memory, too!) "City" life isn't what I remembered. It's not as fun. People are a little pretentious and no one here wants to go fishing (ha ha, 'Spring Break 09!' I suppose).
I put a lot of exclamation points in this. I'm usually not a very emphatic writer.
There's something that I want, and I'm drooling over it. I can hardly wait!
I'm really bad at ending things. So, from now on, the safe word is "lapel."
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Happy birthday, Hanna, my favorite 6-year-old in the world!
I'm sorry you're sick and I hope you feel better.
I wish I could be with you, but I'll see you Friday.
Build-a-Bear party Saturday!
I love you, and I'm sorry you miss being 5.
Hello, Hanna-roo. Good-bye, heart. Sweet Hanna-roo, I'm so in love with you. I knew, Hanna-roo, we'd never part, so, hello, Hanna-roo, goodbye, heart!