Email to Myself
Today I spilled coffee on my skirt. It was very Cameron Diaz sort of comedic fuck up, the lid all like "Yeah girl, I'm really attached well to the cup, PSYCHE!" So now I keep running and hiding from the boss with the coffee allergy. I wonder if she thinks I hate her? Maybe I can shout across the room for her to stay away from my death skirt.
Today I am a vibrant working machine. People all around me are falling down sick, maybe I'm sucking their energy out. Or maybe my thick layer of fat is protecting me. I swear I've got some sort of body dysmorphia (the thing where you perceive your body all wrong aka fat?) this month. For the past few weeks all I can see are fat rolls when I look in the mirror. I've been obsessively keeping a food log this week, and it really looks like I've been doing alright. I feel good, healthy, clear-headed, but there's some sort of disconnect somewhere. Please donate stacks of money to prop up my failing self-confidence! I need about 3 feet of non-counterfeit American currency, 5 feet of the New Zealand version. Non-monetary forms of goodness, aka adventures-of-a-lifetime, new-best-friends or hard-to-get substances negotiable self-esteem currency.
posted by Vanessa @ 22:40
2 Comments:
You are describing my everyday--the fat dysmorphia, not the coffee clutzy (I tend to be clutzy food-wise around the boob region). It's so irritating and carrying these extra 15 pounds that make the majority of my wardrobe unwearable only makes things worse. I'm trying to eat healthy and exercise, but with little success when it comes to the weekends.
Yeah, I agree, weekends are the pits. I can't tell if it's because I'm copying Francisco, who eats like crap, or because I'm just letting everything go after running around being responsible all week.
Are you still mostly doing that 90 day challenge?
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