Ok. So. Enter Minddump territory, tred at your own risk, and try not to get lost in the midst of the mirandering. or misspellings. *L*<\/p>\n
—-<\/p>\n
So. I was thinking while i was in the shower (because everyone knows that’s where the best thinking is done) about body image a little bit, and how it relates- or doesn’t relate – to my current headspace.<\/p>\n
Now before you run away scared, let me mention that for once, I’m in a really *good* headspace, and perhaps that’s why there’s this interspection or something. I haven’t been fighting it because it’s so unusual for me for this time of the year. usually come february I’m screaming and sulking and hiding and generally pissy. But not this year – so I’m accepting it. but anyway – back to my wandering train of thought.<\/p>\n
So, who remembers the “Pile o’Panties” tables\/bins at the local kmarts and such? When I was a teen, I used to prowl through them for the right size, the perfect colors, the best fit, that kind of thing along with my friends. The first ones I bought for myself were of that sort, and i remember feeling decadant that I wasn’t wearing the cotton ones that came in packages of 3 or more that mom bought. not that I had any real hatred for the packaged cottonwear, because they were comfy, but because all my friends were getting their own so I had to spend some of my hard earned money on the same. Heh.<\/p>\n
I remember, as well, when I realized that I wore the biggest size available for the Pile o’Panties tables, a size 8. keep in mind that I would kill to be back in that size now, and back then I can only admit *now* that I was well proportioned and not fat, but curvacious. I had friends who were picking up the 5’s, the 6’s, etc. Skinny stick people that they were, and I remember feeling like a cow and hating it. I wouldn’t look through the pile o’panties with them anymore, either, but only got them on my own because dammit I liked the little bikini cut cutesy saying covered whisps of lycra!<\/p>\n
So what brought this up? Well, the Girl needed new panties, and there was a pile o’panties table in the little girls section, and I picked her up several pair much to her delight. The size was 14 (little girls sizing, she’ in that inbetween little girls\/juniors sizing thing.) and they were of course, the biggest size available. course, I know they’re like.. 4’s when she goes to juniors, but still.<\/p>\n
So she loves their little lycra beauticiousness too, and it made me smile, and I got to thinking about my own size again. <\/p>\n
I know I’m fat. I do. I also know that many find my size disgusting – myself included and first on that list. I wonder often why I don’t just *do* something about it, because I know I can, as I have before, but then I ended up fatter then I was then. And I wonder if it doens’t have a lot to do with mental attitude because back then I was *so* unhappy, and right now I’m pretty well… content. <\/p>\n
I mean sure, I’m fat and bitchy, but right now, that’s just me, and I’m ok with that. I don’t feel like I’m constantly searching for something, I don’t feel like I ever really found what I was searching for, but I am just… content. I’m happy about my writing, I love my kids, The asshole drives me insane, but I certainly can’t see kicking him out, we’re in huge massive piles of debt and i’d love to get out from under that but even that doesn’t really seem to matter at all to me right now. We’ll survive, we always do, and someday we might actually pull ahead and be in good shape.<\/p>\n
or not. And it really doesn’t matter, because I do have my family, and we live a pretty good life all things considered.<\/p>\n
And thorugh it all, the size of my ass has waxed and waned like the moon itself. There is no Pile o’Panties shopping for me. And while i know that many people consider women my size grotesque – and I am certainly one of them too – I… well, it’s just not that important to me right now. I mean, it is? but it’s not. I’m generally healthy, and I’m currently *not* depressed. In february. That, my friends, is a miracle in and of itself.<\/p>\n
So I was taking a shower, and I was drying off with this little tiny towel that was like using a washcloth on a hippo, and I was just like. hrm. ok. Whatever. and got dressed. I didn’t stare at my huge flabby boobs that hang all baby chewed to my flabby gut that hangs over fleshy thighs. I didn’t think about the size of my ass or what I’d have to get myself geared up to do to lose it all. I simply got dressed and came back here to do the work I need to do and go on about my day. And realized something…<\/p>\n
i don’t have to be skinny to be fabulous. <\/p>\n
Sure – I know that fundamentally, but there’s always that nagging sensation of people are staring at me and judging me because of the size of my ass. I haven’t had that nagging sensation for a while. I think I just simply don’t give a flying fuck what people are thinking.<\/p>\n
If they don’t have enough guts to get to know the real me under the skin and fat cells, they are simply not worth my time. At all. And they can kiss my giant white ass too.<\/p>\n
So I can’t buy my panties from Fredricks or the pile o’panties shop. I prefer commando, anyway. *leer*<\/p>\n
—-<\/p>\n
Then, I was missing TBF something horrible. He’s got a lot going on and Im dying just to be able to talk to him for a while and just feel that connect we always have. He was online last night, but dummy me, i went to bed early for a change and missed him. *sigh* But then I was thinking about this yesterday too – i miss him horribly and want to have him here so we can talk and tease and love on each other like we always do, but there’s also the fact that while he’s been mostly MIA for the past… gosh… year….. I’ve been ok. I’m doing fine and he’s not the one holding me up anymore because I can do that myself….<\/p>\n
when the hell did that happen?<\/p>\n
I mean, don’t get me wrong, that’s a good thing, but for the first time ever I’m not completely falling apart because he’s not here… I remember the first time he had to go offline for an extended period of time, and god – I was a mess. I bawled and sobbed and felt like I’d lost the only thing that was keeping my head above water. god, it was horrible. And when he came back, I had my support again, and everything was ok. <\/p>\n
Over the years we’ve had our problems and we’ve really been through some serious hell, both in our own lives, and between us in our friendship too. Some of the shit we’ve dealt with would have torn most anyone else we know apart, but we’re too damn stubborn, I guess. I’ve always known that he was the one person that I needed, the one constant I could always count on, the best friend everyone deserves. I’ve always strove to be that for him too, and we went through periods when he needed other people more that really hurt me deeply. <\/p>\n
That was then, and this is now.<\/p>\n
Now, while I miss him – oh god do I miss him – I’m also… ok. good even. Instead of waiting for him to come online so I could rant and rave and have someone who understands, the times I’ve begged and waited for him to come online have been because I had exciting news to share, I had something that really boosted my spirits and I only needed the experience to be complete by his saying “i told you so!” and it was a good thing, and eager wait, a delight in just *being* together with him and laughing and talking….<\/p>\n
So maybe, in short, all this means.. I’m doing allright. For the first time in 8-9 years, I’m really, truly, ok.<\/p>\n
Fat, sassy, bitchy, loving, smiling, content.
\nI’m doing ok. <\/p>\n
And if you dont’ like it? Pucker up baybee.. I’ve an ass the size of Kansas that you can kiss. *winks*<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Ok. So. Enter Minddump territory, tred at your own risk, and try not to get lost in the midst of the mirandering. or misspellings. *L* —- So. I was thinking while i was in the shower (because everyone knows that’s where the best thinking is done) about body image a little bit, and how it […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-168","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-myriad"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/168","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=168"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/168\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=168"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=168"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonfalon.org\/eclat\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=168"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}