it's been a while

I haven't visited this blog in almost a year. I'm revisiting this blog for one reason: I ended up logging into my blogspot and reading my various blogs...I have a total of three. One for randomness, this one for diet, another for food. Ironic I found it that I have a food blog that goes into describing such scrumptious and delectable meals. On the one hand, I have this where I get to talk about an obsession over weight. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a victim of a weight disorder or a body-image issue. I actually know I'm beautiful both inside and out--I may not come off that way sometimes because insecurities have the ability to surface but for the most part I'm pretty sure of my physical traits. I'm not a size 0 and I'm glad cus at least I can look somewhat normal in my clothing. I love my thickness but I know if I want to lose it, it's possible. My skin is how I want it, my hair is manageable and if and when I want to make improvements, I can just make a trip to Sephora...haha.

I'm no longer treating my body as if it's some kind of Transformer robot, easy to alter and manipulate into the ideal image in mind. With the struggle I faced with trying to work out, count calories, and regularly criticize my body, it actually helped me learn the hardest lesson: to love myself for how I look. In the last year I went through many weight changes...gaining weight excessively, losing weight, then gaining weight and now I'm back to losing weight. I'm back to where I've wanted to be and I didn't have to hit any extremes in order to get where I am.

I'm probably never going to be skinny...I honestly don't think I've ever been skinny, maybe when I was five? haha but I know that just because I'm not going to hit a size 2 doesn't mean I'm going to let myself go. I want to maintain this acceptance of my physicality and I don't want to risk compromising that if I just stop working out or not being cautious of what I eat. It's just more of a bigger picture type of dieting and exercise.

Things have definitely changed since my last blog. I'm single again, in my last year of college and ready to really live. I just promise myself no man will ever affect my self worth and value--especially when it comes to my body. And I know better than to turn to men about these things because they just simply do not understand.

the magic number

I stood on the scale at the gym after a long, hard workout. I felt strong after working out in the weight area with "the big boys." It's funny how we can lead ourselves to thinking that because we've worked out for two hours and some-odd minutes, the scale will be a friend to us and reveal to us that our bodies have managed to shed four and a half pounds in that one session alone. Can't blame us, especially after all that sweat that came out of our pores--if sweating alone we're a cause of weightloss, we'd all be ten pounds lighter by the end of the day from all that running around we do for the madness that is our lives. In my Dreamland, that is what happens, unfortunately, I live in a reality where pounds are gained almost instantaneously. So, you can see where this was leading and the result was that I was nowhere near happy with what I saw on the scale.

The thing about balance scales is there is always that possibility of cheating. You convince yourself that the scale is balanced because, afterall, it is based on visual perception. Even if it's way off, as long as you resolve to the idea that it is balanced, it is balanced. So I sucked it up this time, refusing to "cheat" the scale and aiming for the truth. I balanced it and was truly saddened by what I saw.

why

My boyfriend tells me stop reading those "stupid magazines." I tell him that I can't help it and that I have to. I really don't, actually, yet I still do. It's a sickness, really, a learned obsession over image, appearance, sexuality, objective facial features, and the number on the size tag sewed onto the inside backing of a dress you can't zip up, no matter how much is sucked in, no matter how many desserts are skipped, no matter how many miles are ran on the treadmill at the gym. Look how disgustingly I speak of it. There's no way possible I could talk about this in a positive manner because it is in all ways very much like a sickness. It sinks deep within your skin and flesh, running through the veins of your body, imposing deterioration of the mind and soul, and eventually, you're dying...dying to be thin.

I'm a writer at heart, despite all my toss-ups of whether I wanted to be a nurse, psychologist, public health officer, and the newest, a family-marriage therapist. What I love is expressing myself through writing, revealing the deepest thoughts, ideas and pangs of life that I come across through my words and sentences. So I thought to myself, as I stared blatantly at this size 1, waiting for the same research session as me, unknowingly feeding this obsession over skinniness, why not write a diary of this sickness. I didn't see it as becoming this outpouring of emotion, where I cry, whine, and bitch over not being able to fit into size 27 Seven for Mankind jeans. I don't intend on using this "memoir" for that purpose. I want men to read about the real-life struggle with weight and appearance, and the effect of experiencing the lack of beauty because of the simple actions they do that cause us to feel such things. I want women to be able to have something to relate to, to know that yes, it is a normal thing to obsess, to feel self-conscious, to feel ugly because we all feel that at one point or another. I want women to know that we all share that raw emotion of feeling helpless under the power of a size table. I want women who feel alone in this struggle to have something to clench to and say, "this is my story" and therefore, I no longer want us women feeling alone. This is our story, and I'm writing this for me, and each and every one of you out there. To understand. To fight. To cry. To laugh. And most of all, to be recognized for our struggle.

intro

sickened
never thought
i'd hit a point where i was so low
about a thing so superficial and vain
consumed by such industries
such as fashion, diet, sex, makeup, beauty
sickening, it is so
self-esteem decreased by such things
confidence shattered by ideas and ideals
conscientious of nonsense magazines and shows
but here's to my reality check
the photos, they don't lie
the image reflected on the mirror is the truth
deny it, ignore it, avoid it
eventually it's gonna come back to haunt you
no matter who says beauty lies within
it still relies on how one feels inside
sickening, it is, definitely so
to feel this sickened with oneself because of
one photo, one reflection,
too bad only one image lies in all those
and that is of one sickened by herself.

This is a memoir of a woman, starving, dying, striving to be thin. This is dedicated to all the other princesses, little girls, women, beauty queens, and simple folk alike who encounter the same struggle. Pressured by society, ideals, and extremes, we all stand together in the fight against being fat. This is my story, my sister's story, my best friend's story, her story...OUR story.