Thinking of what to write in between pictures is a challenge. Should I write about the frivolous and obvious? I got this shirt on sale and I love it even though it immediately becomes a wrinkled mess. These shorts are new and I may never take them off. I tried to put my hair in victory rolls and it literally took hours. Holy roots, I need to re-dye my hair.
I suppose that since I would characterize this as a "fashion blog," I feel justified in discussing oh-so fascinating clothes and elaborate hairstyles. On the other hand, there are times when I want to delve deeper, and treat my blog more as a journal. But there is that nagging, concerned voice in the back of my head…How much of myself should I put on the internet? How much to the outside world at all? I'm honestly not all that worried about over-sharing or compromising my own privacy, but about the risk of being vulnerable. Opening up to others has been a lifelong struggle. And no, saying this to the internet is not ironic. The internet is a buffer. Some of you might be sitting there judging me, but since you are far, far away from my real life I'm honestly not so worried about your reactions. The horrible truth is I'm terrified of being rejected by the people I love most in life. I have no clue where this came from, and since I don't really prescribe to the validity of psychoanalysis, I don't really care. The point is I know it is an issue and it's something I'm working on. I'm scared of letting my walls down, not because other may come in, but because I'm afraid of what will come tumbling out. I'm worried I will overwhelm others with the anxieties that are a never-ending tirade in my head.
I often times wonder if everyone suffers from such a loud internal monologue. I can never seem to turn my brain off, which frequently makes me my own worst enemy. For example, my neurosis du jour is my weight. After college I started doing weightwatchers and lost 35 pounds. It was hard, but I was at a point in my life where all I did was sleep, exercise, and go to work, where everyone else was on a diet too. Without this perfect combination of factors I don’t think my weight loss would have been nearly as successful. Fast forward to now. I’ve definitely put on a few lbs. Grad school most definitely doesn’t help (my will power is not good at saying no to free pizza and cupcakes), nor does having a mentor that is an excellent cook but gives zero fucks about nutrition. I’ve also been fighting a losing battle with exercise the past few months. After my appendectomy I couldn’t exercise for four weeks, which apparently is a really great excuse to quit exercise forever.
So now here I am. I’m completely unhappy with the way I look and how I feel in my own body. I know I should just stop eating so much (as if it really is that simple), but all this self-flagellation makes me feel quite shitty and hey know what would make that feel better? Ice cream. And so goes the vicious cycle.
I don't really know what the point of the word vomit above is. Except that the first thing I thought when I saw how these pictures came out was "OMG I HATE MY LEGS! BLERGGHHH" And honestly I'm tired of having that reaction. I'm tired of this roller coaster love/hate relationship with my body. I know that I should strive to be healthier (shouldn't we all?), but I don't want my goal to be dictated by the scale. I'm infinitely envious of ladies who are full of self-confidence at any size. How do they do it? What mantra can I repeat to learn to be happy with who I am right now? Because more than anything that's what I want - to feel comfortable in my own skin.