The "blog for another day"

On May 6th, 2012, I went to Freeport with Dyan, Jody, and Nicole.  We went to The Gap.  For the first time in my life, I was able to try on stuff with everyone and really be a part of the whole experience.  It felt surreal and weird and like I was having an out-of-body experience.  Then I tried on a size xl shirt that I loved and it was way too big.  I went and got a “L” and put it on.  I about lost my shit in that changing room.  I have NEVER been an “L” ….what the hell was happening!?  I have always had at least one “X”!  Who is this “L” girl???  What is she like?  Does she have to only eat carrots and chat about running and fitness?  Can she still be goofy and silly and eat cake whenever she wants?  Does she always have to “dress up” because she has a nicer body that she should ‘show-off’?  Does she have to ‘keep going’ with losing weight because ‘L’ isn’t small enough and now that there are no Xs…. does she have no excuses for having pudge?  My friend’s saw that I was “having issues” and just thought I was being stupid… and therefore I felt stupid for freaking out.  I would have done the same though if my friend was being a freak for going down a size.

I didn’t buy the shirt.

I was much thinner then.  I lost a lot of weight before and leading up to, and after my divorce.  It was the running much more than any diet plan, I still ate ice cream and bags of goldfish whenever I felt like it.  A coworker… who is a bit of an ass ;-)… used to tease me about the running all the time and joke and say “Come on Colleen… what are you running from???” This was even wayyyyy before the big D, but obviously he was on to something.

Anyhoo… I lost weight.  I saw numbers on the scale that I hadn’t seen since childhood.  And I felt weird.  On the one hand, I felt awesome and sexy and pretty and cute…. on the other hand, I didn’t feel like “me.”  The first thing, and often the only thing, anyone talked to me about was diet/fitness/exercise/weightloss.  The first thing out of people’s mouths was always “WOW!!  You are looking GREAT!!!”  and of COURSE it feels good to get compliments, but it also felt uncomfortable to have everyone so excitedly commenting on my body size.  I felt scrutinized, analyzed, and was constantly feeling like everyone was talking about me behind my back.  (Which, HELLO!??? I’m sure they WERE… between the divorce and the weight loss and stuff…I would be doing the same thing!) And in my “real life”…which I guess somehow in my head equals my “fat life,”  I couldn’t care less if people talk about me.  I talk about them too… everyone talks about everyone… it’s just life as a human being.

Without my fat suit on, I just feel so EXPOSED!!  And I feel constantly at war with myself feeling uncomfortable with the attention I am getting from everyone, and awesome about it at the same time.  The constant feeling of conflictedness is an EXTREMELY uncomfortable space to live in.  When I am fat…I am just me… no conflictedness, just the regular old self loathing and constant thoughts of “I should exercise…. and I shouldn’t eat all of this…”  That is comfortable.  That is what I am used to.  What I am NOT used to is attention about my looks from people… or men.  When I joined,  it was as though I was chum and I jumped into a starving ocean.  I was NOT expecting to be fending off or ‘letting down’ so many men who were interested in getting to know me.  It was weird and again caused those same awkward and uncomfortable feelings of flattered and freaked out at the same time…. feelings I was already having anyway about life in general!

Wow… getting this out I can see why I committed myself to Lonnie so fast.  He saved me from all those ‘feelings.’  He made me feel safe and protected.  I quit PoF within days of meeting him in person. A choice I am glad I made… but in retrospect could have resulted in disaster had he not been the wonderful man that he is.

So…. now what??

One thought on “The "blog for another day"

  1. These two recent blogs are awesomely real, Colleen. For me, at this time in my life, it's not just about clothing choices, it's about how –over the years– my “fat suit” has created body limitations that –much too significantly— inhibit activity choices. And so, I'm well-acquainted with that constant covert sting of tears –and also with the occasions that I simply couldn't stop their flow. They are the outward expression of what's going on inside. Too fucking bad if the truth of my tears discomforts others. If nothing else, they are obvious indicators that I am still a living, breathing human who has feelings that require expression. They are MINE. And since those tears are falling in MY GARDEN, and I'm the only one who's responsible for taking care of MY GARDEN, I just figure that whatever is growing in there must need water (and a little salt…).

    Last fall, I was in a writing circle and wrote a poem that kind of addressed my feelings about this:

    Every Falling Leaf a Tear
    I hate just about everything about this season!

    This season…, that formerly brought so much delight:
    school starting,
    friendships renewed,
    brilliant maple trees,
    smiling …or scary… pumpkin faces,
    Macintosh applies,
    the scent of burning leaves, and
    cool, crisp air.

    Now…, in the autumn of my own life, beauty evades me.
    Every leaf that falls is yet another tear for
    pleasures long past…,
    actions regretted…,
    OLD choices aching Now.

    The temporary nature of life is butting up against the budding of winter … not so very distant anymore.

    The permanence of today's decisions not so permanent any more.

    And…, instead of looking forward, I wonder what LEGACY I'll leave behind or if I left ANY mark in the Book of Life.

    Even then, though, I find myself wondering if leaving a mark really matters.
    Maybe all that really matters is this… one… moment… in autumn.


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