Tonight I went to see my friend Amanda in her starring role as Sally Bowles in Cabaret and she was just so great. Seeing her up there, I could tell that she was elated with the part and she was really having fun with it. I couldn't have picked a better role for her, (although she was my leading lady a year ago in Relationships which was just as good for her acting capabilities).
Watching the rest of this show however, made me feel pretty darn bad about myself. I watched as about five different girls strutted their stuff around half naked on stage, and all I could think was, "My abs will never look like that" "I remember when I was that skinny" and "What happened to me, I'm disgusting." And considering that two pairs of my jeans in the past two weeks have split int he crotch where my monstrous thighs rub together, I really haven't been feeling too hott lately.
When I was in high school, I weighed about ten pounds or so more than I do now. I had a really chubby face, and a big ass, and my mid-area was a self-conscious touchy subject that made me cry in middle school because I didn't understand why my "baby belly" as my mother called it, never went away with age. I still have it, and I deal with hating it every day.
Towards the end of senior year, I went on a medication called Topamax, I was taking it daily for my migraines, and I dropped almost fifteen pounds instantly. I then continued to lose around 10 pounds throughout my freshman year through a mixture of eating square meals every day, walking everywhere, and never having snacks because I ate at the DC and I didn't keep any food in my room. I was somewhat of a foe vegetarian at that time because I was afraid of DC meat, not because I had the ideals that I have now.
The skinniest I ever was in the past few years, I weighed 116. I'm 5'7". I was a skeleton. My family was always asking me in a joking manner, "Are you eating?" and my friends would comment/compliment. It's quite possible that because my first two years of college were among the most depressing and stressful years of my life thus far, there was another factor thrown into the mix. I look at pictures of myself and I can see the bones in my chest. Did I realize how thin I was? No, not really.
In fact, I still thought that I was fat. During junior year while living at my sorority house, I started drinking about four or five nights a week because I was so depressed. This led to drunk eating, and my weight gain. I gained about ten pounds in four months and I hated myself. What I didn't realize was that that ten pounds had probably brought my body back to normal, and away from borderline anorexia. I fought with myself for months as I gained a few more pounds here and there, getting to where I am now.
I am a size 4. Maybe even a 6 in some things. I think I weigh about 130, and that number kills me every day just thinking about it. "If I could just lose five pounds and get to a medium from where I am now and when I was soooo skinny..." "If my abs were only abs and not a blob" "If I didn't eat so many sweets or I didn't drink" the obsessive thoughts go on and on and on. I used to starve myself, and some days when my anxiety is really bad all I can think is, "When's the next time I'll be hungry so I can justify stuffing my face again?" and as soon as I take a bite of food I guilt myself over giving in.
My anxiety has gotten to the point (and it's not just about food) to where I wake up, I have to plan exactly what I'm wearing according to what I'm doing that day, who I will see, what hours I will be where, and exactly what I will eat and when. If something happens where my mental schedule gets screwed up, I cry about it. Oh, my class was cancelled? Where do I go for an hour? I missed my appointment? Crap, I should be doing something productive! How many apples do I have in my bag? If I eat one now, will I be hungry again in an hour? Maybe I can just wait an hour.
This whole thought process is fucking ridiculous.
I moved four times this year and no matter how far away or quickly or where you move, you can't escape from your own fucking head. I have pain in my shoulder so bad that I could barely put on my backpack today because I overdid it at the gym because THERE'S A FUCKING WALL OF MIRRORS IN FRONT OF THE WEIGHT MACHINES!!!!
I just need to scream.
Tomorrow is opening day for baseball, and the relaxing and wonderful feeling that I got this week from watching spring training games was absolutely amazing. It's better than yoga. I need summer, and I need to stop thinking things like, "If I'm skinny then maybe it's ok that I'm not as good as some people because I'll still be pretty and it makes up for it. If I'm not an actress or doing something great with my life, and I'm fat to boot, then who will care two shits about me?"
It's a really claustrophobic feeling, being stuck in your own head all the time.