I ain't good-lookin' baby...I ain't been built so fine...
So sang Ella Fitzgerald with Louis Armstrong. But she adds that all the boys love her, so I guess it didn't matter much, eh? (With that voice, how could it?!) As for me, I'm built okay, but I have to work damned hard at it. I'm between a six and eight now, and Curleyne, a beautiful co-worker (tall and lean and a wonderful dresser), was sure I was a size six. Ha, fooled you, but in actuality, I can't fool myself. Still, I try to be careful, and while I ate too much in NYC, I also exercised a lot. Back in Boston, I'm back to my regular diet of a poppyseed bagel with butter for breakfast (along w/ a refreshing Sobe Power Beverage), a small yogurt, two cheese sticks, and a kudos bar for lunch, and a Stoueffer's lasagna tv dinner, Starbucks iced tea, diet Coke, and microwave popcorn for dinner. That's rather pathetic, isn't it? But it's pretty cheap and it's easy to control and that's just how it has to be for now. Tomorrow, I'll have cereal for breakfast (meaning I have to go out now and get milk, before the torrential downpours arrive; sigh) and a Sobe, and will differ the meals a bit, as Anna and I are going to see "Den of Thieves" at the Boston Center for the Arts and possibly "when colored girls..." at the BCA as well (half-priced tickets through Bostix, if we care to see two shows and traverse the bad weather earlier).
My point is that I was not born with an ideal (whatever that means) body, have always had to watch my weight, and have always obsessed about it. The good news is that I'm working out so much that I'm in far better physical condition than I've been in for quite a while (even though I've walked for a long, long time, and do so part of the way to work in the nicer weather), and have mixed it up, with elliptical machines, the bike (or will again soon), treadmill, floor exercises, and power yoga (and Jess's class today had just as much power as it did yoga, trust me, but it felt goooood, especially b/c my knee didn't bother me, and my heel has pretty much calmed down). But I don't like the way I look, and I'm not sure I ever will. I'm far too short, at 5'1", and have dark hair and dark eyes (I always dreamed about blue or green ones). My face is fairly round, though less so with the weight loss, and I have to wear glasses (I had to stop wearing contacts about five or six years ago b/c my eyes got too dry with them in). My teeth are fairly straight (thanks to six years of braces!), but my shoulders aren't very broad, while my waist, butt, and thighs are relatively big in proportion to the rest of my body. Or so I think.
And the real point is that this is the body I have, and I have to work with it. When I watch "What Not to Wear," a Friday night staple (9pm, TLC), I see women with various body types finding ways to embellish what they have, but I have to say, I envy the thin or tiny ones and pity (well, not pity, but feel a bit badly for) the larger-sized ones. The woman tonight certainly looked a lot better at the end, and happily felt much better about herself, but I still wouldn't want to look like her. And no matter how much weight I lose, I'm not sure I'll ever really like the way I look. I'm not anorexic, by any means, which I was once (age 23, lost 27 lbs in about 3 1/2 months, got down to 106 lbs with less than 10 percent body fat, obessively exercised, barely ate, was hungry all the time, and thought I still needed to lose more weight), and yet am afraid that I'll crack, and that I'll binge again, and then again (as I was doing in the fall, and let me tell you how little it takes to prod me back onto that track again), and I'll gain all the weight I've lost back and more, and I'll have to wear my fat clothes again (sizes 10 and possibly, worst case, 12).
I really feel as if I'm rambling tonight. I probably shouldn't write when I'm so tired. I just heard the song and it made me think about how I'd like to look: I'd be about 3 or 4 inches taller, with blonde highlights and big, blue or green eyes (though my eyes ARE large) and no glasses, and a size 4, six tops (I guess six would be fine if I were taller). I'd look trim, not just normal, and cute, if not really pretty, and guys would smile and nod. I'd wear more daring things, more sassy, and guys would date me. As if this were the reason I'd be dating, or the reason I'm not now. I will continue to lose weight, because I'm doing it (fairly) sensibly, and there's nothing wrong with being a size 6 at my height, and I do feel a lot better than I did four months ago, before I started being disciplined and diligent about my eating. But no matter how much weight I end up losing, it's still likely that I'll be home alone on a Friday night, and I have to accept it. My hair will continue to show streaks of gray (not enough to have to dye it yet, thank God), and I'll have to be careful about my knees and my heel (and who knows what else).
Actually, since I chose to stay home tonight, rather than see a play with Anna or head to Bukowski's with people at work (since I don't drink, it's just not that appealing to do happy hour, frankly), I don't feel sorry for myself, at least not tonight; I wanted to stay home tonight, listen to jazz, and catch up on "The New Yorker" and "Boston Globe." I don't want kids, I don't plan to have any, ever, and tonight I was happy not to be married or even have a boyfriend, b/c I so needed downtime, after staying at work til after 7pm to do some catch up work. Of course, if I had a boyfriend, maybe I would have been more likely to have left earlier, but maybe not. Impossible to speculate, particularly if we hadn't made specific plans. Impossible to even think about having a boyfriend at this point; have to think about self and inner happiness, and as that is achieved, the spoils will come as well. Or won't. Some of this is out of our control. Better to be happy for little things, and big ones as well, like living in a cool city, being able to work out, eating in front of the TV, reading in bed without any disturbance and just my music to keep me company, and having the most wonderful nieces and nephew in the world.
I can't really remember what I was initially going to write about...so I guess it didn't really matter. But TGIF (and W, for weekend). Get some rest.
My point is that I was not born with an ideal (whatever that means) body, have always had to watch my weight, and have always obsessed about it. The good news is that I'm working out so much that I'm in far better physical condition than I've been in for quite a while (even though I've walked for a long, long time, and do so part of the way to work in the nicer weather), and have mixed it up, with elliptical machines, the bike (or will again soon), treadmill, floor exercises, and power yoga (and Jess's class today had just as much power as it did yoga, trust me, but it felt goooood, especially b/c my knee didn't bother me, and my heel has pretty much calmed down). But I don't like the way I look, and I'm not sure I ever will. I'm far too short, at 5'1", and have dark hair and dark eyes (I always dreamed about blue or green ones). My face is fairly round, though less so with the weight loss, and I have to wear glasses (I had to stop wearing contacts about five or six years ago b/c my eyes got too dry with them in). My teeth are fairly straight (thanks to six years of braces!), but my shoulders aren't very broad, while my waist, butt, and thighs are relatively big in proportion to the rest of my body. Or so I think.
And the real point is that this is the body I have, and I have to work with it. When I watch "What Not to Wear," a Friday night staple (9pm, TLC), I see women with various body types finding ways to embellish what they have, but I have to say, I envy the thin or tiny ones and pity (well, not pity, but feel a bit badly for) the larger-sized ones. The woman tonight certainly looked a lot better at the end, and happily felt much better about herself, but I still wouldn't want to look like her. And no matter how much weight I lose, I'm not sure I'll ever really like the way I look. I'm not anorexic, by any means, which I was once (age 23, lost 27 lbs in about 3 1/2 months, got down to 106 lbs with less than 10 percent body fat, obessively exercised, barely ate, was hungry all the time, and thought I still needed to lose more weight), and yet am afraid that I'll crack, and that I'll binge again, and then again (as I was doing in the fall, and let me tell you how little it takes to prod me back onto that track again), and I'll gain all the weight I've lost back and more, and I'll have to wear my fat clothes again (sizes 10 and possibly, worst case, 12).
I really feel as if I'm rambling tonight. I probably shouldn't write when I'm so tired. I just heard the song and it made me think about how I'd like to look: I'd be about 3 or 4 inches taller, with blonde highlights and big, blue or green eyes (though my eyes ARE large) and no glasses, and a size 4, six tops (I guess six would be fine if I were taller). I'd look trim, not just normal, and cute, if not really pretty, and guys would smile and nod. I'd wear more daring things, more sassy, and guys would date me. As if this were the reason I'd be dating, or the reason I'm not now. I will continue to lose weight, because I'm doing it (fairly) sensibly, and there's nothing wrong with being a size 6 at my height, and I do feel a lot better than I did four months ago, before I started being disciplined and diligent about my eating. But no matter how much weight I end up losing, it's still likely that I'll be home alone on a Friday night, and I have to accept it. My hair will continue to show streaks of gray (not enough to have to dye it yet, thank God), and I'll have to be careful about my knees and my heel (and who knows what else).
Actually, since I chose to stay home tonight, rather than see a play with Anna or head to Bukowski's with people at work (since I don't drink, it's just not that appealing to do happy hour, frankly), I don't feel sorry for myself, at least not tonight; I wanted to stay home tonight, listen to jazz, and catch up on "The New Yorker" and "Boston Globe." I don't want kids, I don't plan to have any, ever, and tonight I was happy not to be married or even have a boyfriend, b/c I so needed downtime, after staying at work til after 7pm to do some catch up work. Of course, if I had a boyfriend, maybe I would have been more likely to have left earlier, but maybe not. Impossible to speculate, particularly if we hadn't made specific plans. Impossible to even think about having a boyfriend at this point; have to think about self and inner happiness, and as that is achieved, the spoils will come as well. Or won't. Some of this is out of our control. Better to be happy for little things, and big ones as well, like living in a cool city, being able to work out, eating in front of the TV, reading in bed without any disturbance and just my music to keep me company, and having the most wonderful nieces and nephew in the world.
I can't really remember what I was initially going to write about...so I guess it didn't really matter. But TGIF (and W, for weekend). Get some rest.
posted by Sue B at 7:50 PM
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