But we also went to the Converse outlet, and there are Cons that fit me for half price because I technically weir a kids' size, and they have the most adorable retro running shoes, and if I can swing it after this week's bills and such, I'm going to get them. I want to run. Not jogging, I hate hate hate jogging and it makes my knees and hips hurt from old injuries, but run. Flat out. Like I'm being chased by monsters. The Harry Dresden- Dr Who Companion workout plan. I figure I'll start just sprinting up and down my block-- I'm very out of shape, and my lungs are quite crap*, so that should be fine for now. When I get stronger, and I build up some tolerance, I'll head out to the running track, or around the lake like the school's track and field team. I'm not really concerned with marathon-levels of stamina; I juls like the feel of opening up my hips and hitting that rhythm where I used to run across sand dunes back when we used to dance on the beach.
Meanwhile, a friend of mine was talking about how fat doesn't necessarily equal unhealthy, and I think she's right. I feel better when I eat better and move more, but i haven't lost that much weight. It's just moved around, and I'm fine with that, for all that I have these annoying dreams where I realize I've never been fat, I've just been looking at myself skewed, and when I realize it, I'm suddenly where I want to be. Maybe there's some internalized pop culture voice telling me I want to be a bony bitch, but that's not true when i'm conscious-- I don't want all my chest bones showing, I just want to be able to see my collarbones. And to not be accidentally anorexic or the opposite there of again.
Weight is such a minefield.
*When I was in seventh grade, I got bronchitis seven times in a school year (I missed 160 days, and they couldn't hold me back because I still had perfect grades. Take that Florida Public School System!), and it left me with a tendency toward lung problems, a habit of not breathing deeply, and it took my previous ability to hold my breath for just over three minutes. I haven't gotten any of that back in order yet, so I'll have to run just a little bit at a time and trick myself into doing it right.
2 comments:
I don't feel fat for my body, but if I compare my body to others I feel gross. I never want to be a bony bitch. I want to be a post apocalypse bombshell who can kick zombie ass and rebuild a better civilization.
I have a tendency to fall into the anorexic category (if you are person watching me from the outside), but not because I think it will help me get thin. I just don't eat because I don't have time or the desire. It's a funny world my body has created for itself.
Right now, I'm on a no food cycle. Nothing tastes good, nothing sparks interest. In fact most food disgusts me at the moment and that is a sad thing.
I'm so divided on the issue. I feel like I'm slimming down-- I can feel my bones better than before, my bra and my pants fit differently, and things that were verging on too tight before fit again, but when I look in a mirror, I still see a fat blob that's too thick around the hips and waist. It's annoying on the best of days and shocking on the fragile days. That's why I'm so glad that there's some sort of outward sign: the scale says it actually IS working.
I'm working on training myself to eat right again. When I was actively trying not to be anorexic, I ate just about anything, and that's a bad habit I've been carrying around for too long. I'm fully aware that my vices are sugary things, so I'm trying to keep myself down to one serving a day, and when I have really rich desserts, I get a kids size, or a share it with someone, or I only eat three big lingering bites (and after that, anyway, fatty and sugary foods coat your taste buds and don't taste as amazingly good).
And I'm lazy and I'm doubtful and I'm frequently annoyed with myself for not getting more done, and I'm sure none of that helps much.
But there's progress.
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