This was written November 28th 2011 on my xanga.
Dear Semi-Private (only due to the death of a trend) Diary,
I am overweight.
This means my BMI is in the overweight category.
Ok, I'm only slightly overweight. But still. I'm not in the "healthy" range. And even if I am right before I step into the shower in the morning, that still makes me borderline overweight. Borderline or not, my health and self confidence are at risk.
Now, I remember vividly the days of eating granola bars at rehearsals for Midsummer and getting a snide comment about being so healthy. I remember writing about that day and sharing my emotional journey on this here xanga a mere 5 years ago. I had a very clear plan to lose weight and keep it off! I stuck to it well. And I looked damn good. But the emotional repercussions that came instead were tough to deal with...
...but I wonder if I'll ever get over myself and just relax (this is somewhat of a separate issue).
What can I blame for those additional 23 pounds?
The fact that I no longer go to Bowling Green and can't use the rec center. Oh, how I romanticize the days of walking from Kriescher to the rec! A 45 minute cardio-strength routine followed by relaxing in the hot tub, getting a jet massage- all the reward I ever needed for working out. I can almost still smell the combination of sweat and old building hitting me as I walked through the door and swiped my card. I can see the steam on the windows. I hear the exact pitch of the fan buzzing in the cardio loft. I feel the tilt of the running track. I hear "Dance, Dance" and "Killer Queen" playing on my primitive mp3 player. I see the dingy walls of the locker room. I feel the mesh of my flip flops pressing to the bottom of my feet. I can see my aqua dolphin towel hanging over the back of my chair. I smell the chlorine of the pool. I remember the bored lifeguard sitting by the window.
Or maybe I can blame the fact that I don't have access to a meal plan to use at the Sundial anymore. I can't help myself to mountains of fresh baby greens topped with every vegetable I could dream up, grilled chicken, olives and redwine vinegar.
Maybe a 40+ hour work week doesn't allow me the time I used to have when I lived at home rent-free to get up in the morning and take ridiculous walks around the neighborhood and do hour-long pilates videos in the family room.
Maybe it's my all-or-nothing mentality that landed me at the weight I have today. For the better part of two years I didn't drink anything but water and I seldom let a cookie or pizza pass my lips.
With all the walking to and from class, the many fourth-floor staircase trips, the foot-mobility to anywhere downtown, the fresh dining hall food, no, the Freshman 15 didn't happen to me.
I feel helpless. At 24 I'm working 40 hours a week at $10 and my benefits suck. I chose to study my passion over riches. The problem is that I didn't pursue a career in my passion so I'm left without either. Oh sure, I should be grateful. I'm grateful. I can pay for what I need to but all the frivolity I can participate in is funded by my boyfriend.
And maybe that's another thing I can lay my blame upon. He buys me whatever I'd like so I have whatever I crave. He loves me. He spoils me. I eat and drink but I'm not merry because I hate my body. I'm ashamed of my socioeconomic standing.
I don't know how I'm going to be able to raise my children the way I want when the man I might marry wants to live extravagantly.
Is this all so vague?
I planned on talking about my next strategy to lose 20 pounds and how I'm so excited to do so.
Seems I have other issues.