On being the last living lj user I know.
I'm actually at peace with being the last lj user I know. I think it would be interesting to find others that I don't know IRL, because I think I could use some of that. Most of the shit I post on here isn't for human consumption anyway and nothing blows harder than having some random human in a bar ask you about your feelings or what you've written about. People ask me all of the time how my chickens are, guess that's a safe bet. Today I'm suffering from some scraped up knees from some middle of the night crazy sex, which I feel pretty safe saying because, well, that type of shit doesn't happen to me nearly enough anymore, so there's no shame in nearly married people's game. Also there's no one to care to be all up in my business about it, so that's cool too.
That's not what no one would have sympathy for, though. The struggle continues to be real, as I am exceedingly pleased with my weight loss. Every single day that I look in the mirror, I smile a bit more and more. Every article of clothing I put on looks better and better. At this rate I'll far exceed even the twenties version of this body and when I think about actually wearing that swimsuit this summer, I smile. I can't talk about it, most all of my lady friends are bigger than me and I get things like "Shut up, I would love to look like you" or "Just fuck you", or some other version of that. The dude friends are like "well, you were fine the way you were". Well, you know what? Instant mashed potatoes are fine the way they are also. Does that mean you want to eat them? No. What is it exactly that other people think? Do they just look at themselves in the mirror and go "Fuck it, I'll just look like this giant blob of pale goo, that's fine." Do they look at that slice of pizza and really crave it more than being able to wear pants without looking like their waistband is baking bread? Kate Moss once got a bunch of shit for saying "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". I remember reading that quote and thinking, "Yeah, I get that you guys are butthurt, but she's right." Seriously, every single moment of every day that I'm closer and closer to one of my target weights, the happiness I feel far outweighs any kind of momentary pleasure some random ass food could give me. Every moment. Every time I put on leggings and there is no fat roll. Every time I turn sideways and my stomach is flat. Every dress I put on that looks perfect. Every single time I see the line that runs down the middle of my stomach and my waistline get smaller and smaller, I'm happier than anything else can make me. I know that in these days and times, that is considered to be "wrong", and don't get me wrong, I'm super supportive of all of my "body positive" friends and feminists. It's fine if they're that way. It's not if I am. It's just absolutely not okay with me to look like that. I can literally feel every single pound I carry around. I can feel when it leaves too. I feel lighter and lighter. I find my steps lighter, I'm happier, I smile more. I feel more worthy. I literally feel smaller and worth just a little bit more. I'm sure there are angry feminists out there poised and ready to lynch me for it, but damn it girls, I can't help the way I feel. I fucking hate being fat in any way, shape or form.
My biggest problem is that I used to drink WAY too much. If I wasn't doing that, I smoked pot and got the munchies, and while I kept very healthy munchies, there comes a time where you just have to recognize that you're old and your metabolism isn't what it was. It just won't ever be. You just learn to eat less, period. You have to. I'm just not ready to give up. I'm not ready to "let it go" or to "let myself go". It's about more than whatever I've always been told, or wether or not my bf wants to have sex with me (trust me, I've seen his ex, there is literally nothing in the world I could do to become that corpulent unless I just laid in bed all day and ate nothing but cake and ice cream), I'm pretty sure he would have sex with me. For me, it's about the way clothes look and how I feel. I love beautiful clothing, I alway have. I like for it to lay correctly and in a flattering way on me. I dislike having to search for things that hide this or that (although I had started doing a LOT of that this winter). Funny thing, though, even loose clothing looks better on a thinner body. You can just see the outline when people move, when the wind blows- I've always studied movement. Studied what made clothing look beautiful on people. I'm getting close to the point in this weight loss that I'm going to have to start doing some toning if I want some serious next-level shit (and I always do), so there is still work ahead. It makes me feel good to know that I can create something and stick with it. It makes me feel good to know that I don't have a problem giving into temptation, and yes, it does take a certain amount of opposite thinking, some of which is deemed to be "unhealthy" these days. Like, I enjoy the feeling of hunger. I know it is not a bad thing and I don't fear it. I know that when I'm hungry, my body is either using energy it just got from food or it is having to burn fat to do something. I think that is okay. People used to always go through periods of hunger and I don't think that enough people in this day and age experience what it really feels like to be hungry. It's as if we just fill ourselves up for no good reason other than either we are afraid of hunger in and of itself or we're bored/comfort eating. OMG, thank GOD I don't comfort eat!!! That has got to be one of the most self-defeating things I've ever heard of. Get upset about being fat or feeling fat and then go eat about it. It's a wicked spiral. You know, I have to chock it up to people are all very different and I know I have plenty of neurosis that others don't have.
There seems to be high premium placed on having no vanity. Conversely, there is a high premium placed on perfection. They seem to run in camps. You're either pretty, vain, shitty people or ultra basic nice people and there isn't much in between. What if you just keep that struggle to yourself, huh? Once you figure out that yes, you are your worst critic and yes, people don't get it, then your struggle is your own. I have a neurotic tendency about weight. A huge premium was placed on me never being overweight as a child and young person. My dad used to say "Oh, you'll never be a small girl". I fucking hate that, considering his propensity for dating walruses. Seems kind of ironic that everyone he dates is 200 if she's a pound at all. My mother, on the other hand, saw anyone smaller than her as "skinny" and all of those people were "whores" and "skinny and they knew it". Well, I would love to be skinny and know it. Furthermore, I like it when clothing looks nice on me, so I'm not ready to throw in the towel on that one either. I don't want to wear old lady gear yet. Sure, dress age appropriately, but you don't have to be a dowdy soccer mom either. We only get this one life. I want mine to be happy and as healthy as an old drunk who smoked for 20 years can be. I've always said "You can at least try". I realized that I wasn't trying hard enough. I was living with back to back hangovers. I wasn't wearing make-up or even wearing it well to the level that I could. Why do that? Why present yourself as less than you could be? Why has this bum, "I don't wear pants and only pj's, no make up, gross bun on head phenomena become a thing? I look at younger pics of myself and think, well that could have been improved by a pair of contacts and some make-up, maybe some more flattering clothes and some regular sit ups. What the fuck was I thinking (youth wasted on the young)? I know that these things won't overall improve life by leaps and bounds, but they will improve the way you are perceived by others, the way people treat you and the quality of jobs that you get. Those differences are by no means, a waste.
But what about the insides of people? Well, I've done my fair share and then some of volunteer work in the past few years. Something in me broke this past fall when a homeless person I was helping stabbed another dude and went to jail for murder. Something just sort of broke in me. I've been less wanting to do things with CMF anymore. I haven't organized a food drive or anything in longer than I think I ever have (that means a few months), and I've been just overall uninspired to put myself out there like that any time soon. I mean I used to organize shit like every other week. I haven't organized anything since the December CMF art show. That was the last thing I did. I'm supposed to do a spring one and I almost don't even feel like it. I should at least do another canned food drive for the soup kitchen soon, now that the Christmas stuff is depleting at the big store-house. I think I've just been in my own funk for 3 months or so. I was in it hard through January and part of Feb. I feel like I'm well on my way out of it now. Maybe I can revamp and get myself back into service shape. I've been trying to really focus on the wedding, though. That is pretty much the most important thing right now. I think that is okay, you know to at least devote some time to your own wedding.
Why do I even write like this now? It's all just self-absorbed drivel. It's not stories. It's not a status update. It's not even ABOUT anything important, other than the inner workings of one's brain. Well, this blog is no longer here to entertain. Entertaining happens when you have an audience. Entertaining happens while you're image crafting. We all have places to do that, they're called Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Live journal is no longer that, at least, for me. I haven't written shit in years. YEARS!!! I'm starting out slow here. Writing anything at all is better than nothing. Shit, these blogs are boring, even to me. I don't go and re-read these shits (not the new ones, anyway, the old ones are pretty entertaining). This is simply an exercise in verbal diarrhea using the actual language that I speak inside of my own head. It's not tailored to anything. I'm not writing about the terrorist attack in Brussels this week and I'm not afraid of what 400 acquaintances stumble across in a newsfeed on here (that is very very freeing in a way that I didn't entirely understand until I found this thing again the other day). I just want to write. I want to put my hands on a keyboard and type furiously whatever spills out of my head. It's not all noble. It's not even that interesting (though I do find weigh-loss to be a very interesting subject in general). It's just become the winding down of my day. I think that if there were an audience, it might cheapen this experience. I've become very guarded lately of myself. Only people I have physically seen in the past few weeks know that I'm in the process of quitting smoking or that I'm on a killer awesome diet. Shit, this really is hilarious, but while I was in L.A., I changed the part of my hair. My hair has always naturally parted on the right side for my entire life. I trained it to the left side. No one I know has noticed except for Marty. Not even my boyfriend. Not my father. Not my best friend. I didn't think that necessarily anyone would notice, but I thought that perhaps Elliot might at least think that I looked different. People have said that I look "different" and "younger" and "refreshed"- it's probably the part lol. I have FAR less grey hair on the left side of my head than the right. It's just interesting to me that you can have one thing your entire life, and then you change it and no one notices. I changed my make-up too. I then decided to purge my wardrobe. I see more purges in my future. I've been sneaking around and throwing up stencil art around town. I make the stencils in my studio, in private and then I'll scout out things to tag during the day when I'm out and about. I'll hit them up at night after work if I'm not too tired. It's my secret. I love it. I feel full of strange secrets now, none of which are huge, but all together it's almost secret agent. Secret changes, secret artwork, secret blog. I've been living in public for too long. I can maintain the look of living publicly without actually having to do it. It's pretty easy, really. Shit, I found it amusing that we went out the other night and Elliot didn't check us into a single place. It was nice. I'm liking that I'm wearing underwear and a matching tank top and it actually looks descent and I feel comfortable in it, I've never been THAT person either. I feel down right cute. I like it that I use a diva cup, makes me feel like "secret period agent". I like it that I had super raunchy sex last night out of the clear shit blue and it was pretty exciting. I like it that I woke up today, washed my face, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, but on soft, clean jammies and then well right back to bed for a delightful 2 hour nap, followed by a delightful 1 1/2 hour nap. I call them naps because they are punctuated.
You know, I really thought that if I quit drinking like a fish and smoking that I would hop out of bed like sunshine every morning. Turns out that that's not true. I don't. I still struggle to wake up. I guess that's another secret. This is just the way I am. I am groggy sleep lady. I accept it. I suddenly started making playlists too and I've unearthed every old damn thing I used to love to listen to. I'm glad for it.
That's not what no one would have sympathy for, though. The struggle continues to be real, as I am exceedingly pleased with my weight loss. Every single day that I look in the mirror, I smile a bit more and more. Every article of clothing I put on looks better and better. At this rate I'll far exceed even the twenties version of this body and when I think about actually wearing that swimsuit this summer, I smile. I can't talk about it, most all of my lady friends are bigger than me and I get things like "Shut up, I would love to look like you" or "Just fuck you", or some other version of that. The dude friends are like "well, you were fine the way you were". Well, you know what? Instant mashed potatoes are fine the way they are also. Does that mean you want to eat them? No. What is it exactly that other people think? Do they just look at themselves in the mirror and go "Fuck it, I'll just look like this giant blob of pale goo, that's fine." Do they look at that slice of pizza and really crave it more than being able to wear pants without looking like their waistband is baking bread? Kate Moss once got a bunch of shit for saying "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". I remember reading that quote and thinking, "Yeah, I get that you guys are butthurt, but she's right." Seriously, every single moment of every day that I'm closer and closer to one of my target weights, the happiness I feel far outweighs any kind of momentary pleasure some random ass food could give me. Every moment. Every time I put on leggings and there is no fat roll. Every time I turn sideways and my stomach is flat. Every dress I put on that looks perfect. Every single time I see the line that runs down the middle of my stomach and my waistline get smaller and smaller, I'm happier than anything else can make me. I know that in these days and times, that is considered to be "wrong", and don't get me wrong, I'm super supportive of all of my "body positive" friends and feminists. It's fine if they're that way. It's not if I am. It's just absolutely not okay with me to look like that. I can literally feel every single pound I carry around. I can feel when it leaves too. I feel lighter and lighter. I find my steps lighter, I'm happier, I smile more. I feel more worthy. I literally feel smaller and worth just a little bit more. I'm sure there are angry feminists out there poised and ready to lynch me for it, but damn it girls, I can't help the way I feel. I fucking hate being fat in any way, shape or form.
My biggest problem is that I used to drink WAY too much. If I wasn't doing that, I smoked pot and got the munchies, and while I kept very healthy munchies, there comes a time where you just have to recognize that you're old and your metabolism isn't what it was. It just won't ever be. You just learn to eat less, period. You have to. I'm just not ready to give up. I'm not ready to "let it go" or to "let myself go". It's about more than whatever I've always been told, or wether or not my bf wants to have sex with me (trust me, I've seen his ex, there is literally nothing in the world I could do to become that corpulent unless I just laid in bed all day and ate nothing but cake and ice cream), I'm pretty sure he would have sex with me. For me, it's about the way clothes look and how I feel. I love beautiful clothing, I alway have. I like for it to lay correctly and in a flattering way on me. I dislike having to search for things that hide this or that (although I had started doing a LOT of that this winter). Funny thing, though, even loose clothing looks better on a thinner body. You can just see the outline when people move, when the wind blows- I've always studied movement. Studied what made clothing look beautiful on people. I'm getting close to the point in this weight loss that I'm going to have to start doing some toning if I want some serious next-level shit (and I always do), so there is still work ahead. It makes me feel good to know that I can create something and stick with it. It makes me feel good to know that I don't have a problem giving into temptation, and yes, it does take a certain amount of opposite thinking, some of which is deemed to be "unhealthy" these days. Like, I enjoy the feeling of hunger. I know it is not a bad thing and I don't fear it. I know that when I'm hungry, my body is either using energy it just got from food or it is having to burn fat to do something. I think that is okay. People used to always go through periods of hunger and I don't think that enough people in this day and age experience what it really feels like to be hungry. It's as if we just fill ourselves up for no good reason other than either we are afraid of hunger in and of itself or we're bored/comfort eating. OMG, thank GOD I don't comfort eat!!! That has got to be one of the most self-defeating things I've ever heard of. Get upset about being fat or feeling fat and then go eat about it. It's a wicked spiral. You know, I have to chock it up to people are all very different and I know I have plenty of neurosis that others don't have.
There seems to be high premium placed on having no vanity. Conversely, there is a high premium placed on perfection. They seem to run in camps. You're either pretty, vain, shitty people or ultra basic nice people and there isn't much in between. What if you just keep that struggle to yourself, huh? Once you figure out that yes, you are your worst critic and yes, people don't get it, then your struggle is your own. I have a neurotic tendency about weight. A huge premium was placed on me never being overweight as a child and young person. My dad used to say "Oh, you'll never be a small girl". I fucking hate that, considering his propensity for dating walruses. Seems kind of ironic that everyone he dates is 200 if she's a pound at all. My mother, on the other hand, saw anyone smaller than her as "skinny" and all of those people were "whores" and "skinny and they knew it". Well, I would love to be skinny and know it. Furthermore, I like it when clothing looks nice on me, so I'm not ready to throw in the towel on that one either. I don't want to wear old lady gear yet. Sure, dress age appropriately, but you don't have to be a dowdy soccer mom either. We only get this one life. I want mine to be happy and as healthy as an old drunk who smoked for 20 years can be. I've always said "You can at least try". I realized that I wasn't trying hard enough. I was living with back to back hangovers. I wasn't wearing make-up or even wearing it well to the level that I could. Why do that? Why present yourself as less than you could be? Why has this bum, "I don't wear pants and only pj's, no make up, gross bun on head phenomena become a thing? I look at younger pics of myself and think, well that could have been improved by a pair of contacts and some make-up, maybe some more flattering clothes and some regular sit ups. What the fuck was I thinking (youth wasted on the young)? I know that these things won't overall improve life by leaps and bounds, but they will improve the way you are perceived by others, the way people treat you and the quality of jobs that you get. Those differences are by no means, a waste.
But what about the insides of people? Well, I've done my fair share and then some of volunteer work in the past few years. Something in me broke this past fall when a homeless person I was helping stabbed another dude and went to jail for murder. Something just sort of broke in me. I've been less wanting to do things with CMF anymore. I haven't organized a food drive or anything in longer than I think I ever have (that means a few months), and I've been just overall uninspired to put myself out there like that any time soon. I mean I used to organize shit like every other week. I haven't organized anything since the December CMF art show. That was the last thing I did. I'm supposed to do a spring one and I almost don't even feel like it. I should at least do another canned food drive for the soup kitchen soon, now that the Christmas stuff is depleting at the big store-house. I think I've just been in my own funk for 3 months or so. I was in it hard through January and part of Feb. I feel like I'm well on my way out of it now. Maybe I can revamp and get myself back into service shape. I've been trying to really focus on the wedding, though. That is pretty much the most important thing right now. I think that is okay, you know to at least devote some time to your own wedding.
Why do I even write like this now? It's all just self-absorbed drivel. It's not stories. It's not a status update. It's not even ABOUT anything important, other than the inner workings of one's brain. Well, this blog is no longer here to entertain. Entertaining happens when you have an audience. Entertaining happens while you're image crafting. We all have places to do that, they're called Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. Live journal is no longer that, at least, for me. I haven't written shit in years. YEARS!!! I'm starting out slow here. Writing anything at all is better than nothing. Shit, these blogs are boring, even to me. I don't go and re-read these shits (not the new ones, anyway, the old ones are pretty entertaining). This is simply an exercise in verbal diarrhea using the actual language that I speak inside of my own head. It's not tailored to anything. I'm not writing about the terrorist attack in Brussels this week and I'm not afraid of what 400 acquaintances stumble across in a newsfeed on here (that is very very freeing in a way that I didn't entirely understand until I found this thing again the other day). I just want to write. I want to put my hands on a keyboard and type furiously whatever spills out of my head. It's not all noble. It's not even that interesting (though I do find weigh-loss to be a very interesting subject in general). It's just become the winding down of my day. I think that if there were an audience, it might cheapen this experience. I've become very guarded lately of myself. Only people I have physically seen in the past few weeks know that I'm in the process of quitting smoking or that I'm on a killer awesome diet. Shit, this really is hilarious, but while I was in L.A., I changed the part of my hair. My hair has always naturally parted on the right side for my entire life. I trained it to the left side. No one I know has noticed except for Marty. Not even my boyfriend. Not my father. Not my best friend. I didn't think that necessarily anyone would notice, but I thought that perhaps Elliot might at least think that I looked different. People have said that I look "different" and "younger" and "refreshed"- it's probably the part lol. I have FAR less grey hair on the left side of my head than the right. It's just interesting to me that you can have one thing your entire life, and then you change it and no one notices. I changed my make-up too. I then decided to purge my wardrobe. I see more purges in my future. I've been sneaking around and throwing up stencil art around town. I make the stencils in my studio, in private and then I'll scout out things to tag during the day when I'm out and about. I'll hit them up at night after work if I'm not too tired. It's my secret. I love it. I feel full of strange secrets now, none of which are huge, but all together it's almost secret agent. Secret changes, secret artwork, secret blog. I've been living in public for too long. I can maintain the look of living publicly without actually having to do it. It's pretty easy, really. Shit, I found it amusing that we went out the other night and Elliot didn't check us into a single place. It was nice. I'm liking that I'm wearing underwear and a matching tank top and it actually looks descent and I feel comfortable in it, I've never been THAT person either. I feel down right cute. I like it that I use a diva cup, makes me feel like "secret period agent". I like it that I had super raunchy sex last night out of the clear shit blue and it was pretty exciting. I like it that I woke up today, washed my face, brushed my hair, brushed my teeth, but on soft, clean jammies and then well right back to bed for a delightful 2 hour nap, followed by a delightful 1 1/2 hour nap. I call them naps because they are punctuated.
You know, I really thought that if I quit drinking like a fish and smoking that I would hop out of bed like sunshine every morning. Turns out that that's not true. I don't. I still struggle to wake up. I guess that's another secret. This is just the way I am. I am groggy sleep lady. I accept it. I suddenly started making playlists too and I've unearthed every old damn thing I used to love to listen to. I'm glad for it.