The Big Fat Truth

I’m pretty sure I have reverse anorexia.  If I understand the word correctly, someone who is anorexic truly believes they see fat on their body where there really isn’t any.  I have the opposite problem.  Apparently, I don’t see fat where there is a LOT of it.  When I look down at my arms, they look slender…just like when I was much younger and only weighed 110 pounds.  Okay, maybe they don’t still look THAT slender…but they don’t look chubby in the slightest when I look down at them.  When I tip my face down, I don’t feel a sense of doubling…of my face creasing together to create a blob of fat that hangs below where my chin really is.  If I stretch my leg out in front of me, it appears slender, even if I turn it to the side and look at my calves…I don’t SEE fat.  Glancing down at my stomach (sucking it in, of course) it doesn’t look to be horribly distended with blubber resulting from birthing two children and a bad marriage that caused me to eat out of frustration and boredom.  I really don’t look fat to myself at all when I’m just looking down at my body.

And then I’ll see myself in the mirror or in a photo.

This is where I freak out.  It is that image of me...not glancing down at my own body…but looking at myself from the outside…as others see me that throws me into a tailspin of disbelief, disgust, and irritated wonderment at the reality of what I actually look like these days.  I gasp when I see the rolls and lumps where there used to be smooth, toned muscles.  I tear up when I realize that, no matter how hard I work at it or how much I exercise or how healthy I eat, I will probably never be that teeny 22 year old again.  That was the best I was ever going to look and I didn’t appreciate it when I had the chance.  How did I GET like THIS???  How did I let my tiny, in-shape, tan little body turn into this plump, unfit, distorted version of my former self?

Somehow I am able to avoid this hefty realization by not looking in mirrors for anything more than applying mascara and ninja-diving out of the way anytime someone brings out a camera.  But, every so often, someone will “tag” me in a candid photo on Facebook and I will almost pass out with embarrassment knowing people I’ve been so desperately trying to “hide” the current state of my body from now see me as I really am.  Every so often, I need to look at my whole body in a mirror to see if my shirt looks right before I head out the door and I am again floored with the knowledge that THIS is what people will see when I step outside.  Those moments suck.

I know anorexia is a serious issue for some people.  All I’m saying is that having “reverse anorexia” and NOT seeing fat where there is plenty of it can be just as jarring to a girl’s self esteem.  I’m usually able to blissfully deny that I’ve let my body get like this as long as I’m only looking down at it with my own eyes.  Any other view is just disturbing.  I wish I could go back to that 22 year old version of me and say, “Hey you…skinny girl…put the quarter pounder DOWN.  Someday you won’t be able to eat whatever you want without gaining an ounce.”  But, since I can’t do that, I’ll just stick with trying to avoid mirrors and cameras.

Quick Cancer Sucks Update

The doctors never figured out what was making my step dad have so much pain in the post I previously wrote.  I would absolutely link that post here if I knew how to do that...My good friend told me once, but my ADD-riddled brain can't seem to recall the information right now.  Anyway, Step dad went to Florida for the winter as planned and he is doing so-so.  He met with a new doctor at some place called the Moffit Cancer Center and that guy seems to think that step number one is to get his gall bladder OUT.  Step number two is to get him back on the $4,000/shot injections once a month that will wreck his gall bladder but make him feel way better.  (Thus explaining the need for step number one.)  Step number three is to start embolizing parts of his hepatic artery to see if they can cut the blood supply to the tumors on his liver.  The hope there is that, with no source of blood, the tumors may begin to die in places and that will increase his quality of life somehow.

This is not a cure.  It is a comfort measure they are trying to take in order to make whatever time he has left a little more bearable. 

Have I mentioned how much I think cancer sucks?  I did?  Oh...wait...I have one more thing to say... CANCER SUCKS.

There really isn't anything worse than watching someone you love dearly suffer and not be able to say or do anything to ease what they're going through.

Anyway...I probably won't post about this again unless something dramatic happens because it's too hard and I'm on this new snarky, attempted humor kick.  I just didn't want to leave anyone hanging about what was going on.  I'm happy to answer more specific questions if they come up in comments however.

You Know I Like You Like That

Do you know what it’s like to feel something…for someone…and somehow talk yourself into thinking that someone feels the same thing you do because of something they said or did that just perfectly matches up with your justification?  Yeah…that backfires like 99.9% of the time.  Do you know why?  Because…because we build this crap up in our minds and make it seem all pretty and wrapped up like some freaking present because that’s what we WANT it to be.

How stupid is that?!?  I’ll tell you… It’s REALLY stupid.  Wanna know why?  I’ll bet you do.  I’ll even tell you, because I like you like that.  You don’t even have to guess how much I really like you…I’m telling you right now, honestly, no question…I like you like that.  That’s why I’m going to fill you in on this little piece of wisdom.

It’s stupid (you know…that thing we were just talking about) because we MAKE it that way.  Yep.  We do it to ourselves.  Whether we’re single moms or single dads or single aliens from the planet Zarcrap, we do it to ourselves.  We tell ourselves that each tiny little thing someone says means this or that because that’s what we need it to mean.  In the end though…it ends up meaning that we haven’t come to terms with ourselves in some ridiculous way or another and we cling stupidly to the actions of others to justify our own mental defects. 

Hey guess what…. I’m sick of having self-discovering revelations.  I just want ONE guy to tell me how he actually feels and have it actually match up with the feelings I’m having for him.  That would be freaking awesome if that happened in real life.  Then, I wouldn’t have to depend on my ridiculously erratic dreams to satisfy my less than creative consciousness during the day.

I’m tired of having to develop these insane, never-going-to-really-happen fantasies just to convince my unsuspecting psyche that I’m “just fine” being single and utterly alone.

What is your most ridiculous fantasy…?  Come on…you know I like you like that.  You can tell me.

Hugs Are Dangerous Things

Here we go with an honest-to-goodness post about a major downside to being a single mom: Dating.  I hate it.  I mean, I really hate it.  I hate thinking about it, I hate doing it, and I hate dealing with all the crap it drags in with it.  Unfortunately, I came to a realization last Thursday that shoved the ugly reality of it right, square in my face.  

A man hugged me.  

A real, live man who is not related to me.  A man I happen to find very attractive.

Here I was, innocently going about my life, thinking how awesome it is to be this strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man…and then I was embraced by one and that thin wall I’ve been using to hide that need behind came crumbling down.  With one (probably totally platonic) hug from a guy, I was made acutely, almost painfully, aware of the fact that I DO need that in my life.  His cheek pressed against my cheek while his arms were around me made my mental stability completely falter.  I spent the rest of the night with a perma-grin on my face and wildly imagining eleventy billion different romantic scenarios that included the two of us...and more hugs...and other things....  Stupid hug.

It is, of course, terrible timing.  I still don’t have a job, I live with my parents – one of whom is terminally ill, I have two small children to take care of, and I am not physically the Me I want to be yet.  But, there it is.  In bold letters.  I need a man in my life.  Maybe not so much need as want…but there it is.

Now I’m left wondering what to do with myself.  I really can’t stand the idea of dating websites and putting myself out there again.  There is a slight possibility that this man who hugged me could be interested in me too…but I’m not holding my breath for that one.

I think I’m mostly annoyed that I was able to suppress this need before and now it’s all I can think about.  So, what do I do?  I’m not sure I can just go back to ignoring the fact that I miss having a man to hold me…