(warning:  this post contains rambling, and ended up somewhere even I didn’t expect)

so, i weighed myself a couple of mornings ago.  thirteen-and-a-half stone dead.  that’s… 189lb, for my American readers.  or 85.73 kg in new money.  whichever way you look at it, it’s too much for my body.   i feel uncomfortable in my own skin, now.  my body moves strangely when i walk.  everything takes a moment to settle when i’ve stopped moving.  i’m losing definition in all sorts of places.  none of my clothes fit properly and, unless i wear tights or leggings or some other variant, my thighs rub together when i walk, giving me painful friction burns.  my belly feels bloated, and i do. not. feel. good.  some people can carry far more weight than i and still look and feel fucking awesome.  i am not that person.  i feel shit.  and as the weather warms up, i want to wear less.  i need the sun on my skin.  i need the warm breeze round my limbs.  i want to wear skirts without long underwear, dammit!

i know i’ve said so many times before, “this has to stop”,   and i did not.  to do something like this (i.e. lose, at the very least, the stone that i’ve put on since i stopped smoking), i need a psychological kick up the arse to do it.  like the fear of losing my teeth that made me stop smoking immediately.  i honestly never know when that is coming; if, indeed, it ever will.  i hope it does, though.

i had a bit of a whinge about it on Twitter, that morning, and there were some really lovely and supportive tweets in reply (thank you, Gypsy, Mrs S and Kitty! *mwah*)  i’m really sorry for moaning, y’all, but it kinda got to me a bit.  y’know how it does, sometimes.

this is not about the Beauty Standard.  fuck the fuckung BS (also short for bullshit.  coincidence?  no.)  when i can be arsed with my appearance (which is, frankly, not all that often) i know how to dress, and to stand, and i look great in my clothes.  out of them, not so much.  but since i’ll never be posting nudie pics anywhere ever, there’s only two people that have to worry about that, right? 😉

as for the BS itself, i am trying very, very hard to reject it whenever i feel its insidious little tentacles invading my brain.  dayum, but the media is a powerful engine.  i’m trying to free myself of that, one thought at a time.  in fact, i’m trying to avoid any kind of lazy thinking every day.  i’m trying to ask “Why?” a whole lot more and, aged nearly thirty-six, i’m finally realising that there are usually myriad ways of looking at any question or issue, and that i really can form my own opinions about stuff.  and what i thought was my own opinion before was not necessarily so.  i feel like i’m waking up a little, here and there.  but i also have to remind myself every. fucking. day. to be really very careful with my opinions and judgements, as i may not have all of the facts.  christ, this being a grownup lark is hard work.  really hard, and really painful.

but it has its consolations.  for instance, when i get a text like i did this morning, from my husband.  in his own very sparse and elegant way, he told me that there’s something that it had never even crossed his mind to dream about that i could help make come true.  i really can’t tell you how wonderful that feels.  really, truly – being a grownup has myriad drawbacks.  but it also has some very special consolations.

(kinda hoping to avoid the bit at the end, if at all possible…)

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