Tag Archives: body image

Every day is a school day

Today I learned that while 3C feels brisk and chilly but nice for a run 2C feels like my lips are going to fall off and I was in pain at first. I am also noticing the inherent challenge in the location of my house. In Fremont I had to be going well over 5 miles in the day before I went up a big hill. I always had over a mile and a half to warm up before I started the uphill slog. That big hill had ~305′ of elevation in a bit over a mile. BUT AFTER CLOSE TO 2 MILES OF WARM UP.

Now I walk out of my front door and start climbing because even my damn driveway is sunk compared to the road. Just to get to the top of my road before doing anything else it’s a mile and the elevation climb is ~375′. That’s my fucking warm up.

Oh my goodness. My road is harder than running up Washington Blvd to get to Mission. I’m going to cry and feel sorry for myself for a minute here.

Ok, now I’m over it. I am actually feeling absolutely elated about how quickly my legs are picking up muscle. I tried to start running when we moved here, not long after the surgery on my back that healed very poorly. I did not do well. I felt empty. I fell and got hurt a couple of times and I just went limp and quit trying. Then I got busy with my million other projects and I just went about my life using my bike and having to walk places.

I feel strong again. I feel like I am clearly increasing muscle mass. My calves are already pretty rock hard and I have missed that so much. I love that if I grab at my thighs there is some padding on them, but mostly they are getting solid too. I suspect next month is when I will start seeing change in fat location on my body. Not that I expect things to shift massively. I suspect that this round of marathon training will not have my body shift as drastically as the previous round. I’d be surprised if I ever see 150lbs again. I’m currently hovering around 200. I need to lose about 6″ around my waist if I want to get my corsets on. Rats. I feel like I am racing the clock before menopause kicks my ass.

This is kinda my last chance to get to a different baseline before the next time my body heads into a whole new stage of loving belly fat. Sigh.

Part of wanting to train for a marathon again is that I won’t maintain an exercise regime for shorter distances. I just won’t. They aren’t hard enough. I could walk a half marathon tomorrow and be ok. I wouldn’t force myself to run for that distance and the running is where I can feel my body shift.

I keep feeling surprised that every time I hit a flat space I drop into a steady 12 minute mile pace. I feel like a metronome sometimes. My body likes the passage of time very much. I expected to have my overall average time for the runs be closer to 17 minutes because of the hill and instead it is under 16 minutes. I’m gaining good speed on the flat bits to make up for how challenging the incline is. I am looking forward very much to when my entire 3 mile run can be done in under 40 minutes. That’s a fantastic feeling when I get there. The last two days were 47/48 minutes. I feel absolutely no worry about my ability to gain back those 8-9ish minutes. Even the hill is going to get easier.

I can do this.

Ahh, I love sneering.

Today as I was walking into Costco some woman stopped right in front of me and looked me up and down. She apparently didn't approve of what she saw because she sneered. It was remarkable. Yes, I was dressed down. Yes, you could see my fat belly. GET OVER IT. Yes, my hair was sticking out in a few thousand directions; I have curly hair. It does that.

I really and truly feel like people believe there is some social expectation of people being at least a certain degree of attractive. Or at least dressed in a certain fashion. I wasn't dressed skimpily. I was wearing gaucho style pants and a Victorian undershirt that buttons just over the breast area so there is a little gap where my belly button shows. I thought I was cute. People suck. 

The funny thing is I don't get those reactions when I'm out with Noah. People just ignore us. We match. When I am out by myself I think I look like a trashy single mom with two very loud kids. I'm always tempted to flip them off with my left ring finger. I may be white trash but I married above my station, asshole. Stop looking at me that way.

My response to such behavior at this point in my life is to stare at them really hard with the teacher face. The "you are being an asshole" face. I like it when they flinch. The one today didn't flinch. She got her back up higher. It was awesome. I then smiled at her. Shanna yelled, "Have a nice day!" She's like that. Then the woman flinched. Then she went blank. Then she smiled in a kind of painful way at Shanna and waved.

Shanna is one of my very favorite people to hang out with. I find her inspiring.

rbus, if you follow  I may stop posting here all together. I'm just sayin'.

I've had a few people ask me for a running update. Sure. I love requests. My attitude has been better while running. I am past the hump of it feeling "too hard" to do what I am doing. This week I am running sixteen miles. Next week is twenty. I'm not up to ten miles on Saturdays yet. Next month. Most days and most runs I've been maintaining 5.10-5.30 mph. Occasionally I crawl for a bit and come in just under 5mph but that is rare lately.

One of the things that I am disliking the most is my changing perception of my body.I've mostly been on the chubby side but I've never been all that big. My lifetime maximum weight was 212 while pregnant. Not-pregnant it was 208. I spend a lot of time hanging out in the 180's with occasional dips down into the 160's when my activity level goes up. That seems to be my "active" weight range. Occasionally in times of great mental/emotional distress I drop down into the 150's. I have usually had a lot of mixed feelings about these periods. On one hand they are by far the most psychologically unhealthy periods of my life on the other hand random people in public no longer stop me to tell me I should lose weight.

Lately I feel like I am bordering on body dysmorphia. I have always had an hour glass figure. That's just how my body looks. I have hundreds of pictures to prove it. I don't any more. Right now I'm doing the apple thing. I don't tend to feel hostility about other people having that basic body shape but right now I feel intensely bad about being shaped that way. I think about it a lot. I'm having to deal with the fact that my clothes don't fit at all the way I am used to them fitting and I feel angry and ashamed and bad because my body isn't looking like me. It's weird. I'm used to my waist being a size smaller than my thighs. Now my waist is at least a size bigger. I feel fat in a way I haven't ever felt before. I feel repulsed by the way I look. I think about it a lot. A really lot. 

I watched the Harry Potter movies recently. At the very end there is this long panoramic pull back shot of Harry, Hermione and Ron. I was fixated on the fact that it looked like I could put my hand between her thighs and be able to hold my hand horizontally and barely touch skin on either side. Holy moly she has skinny thighs. It felt really dramatic. It looked very childlike to me. I'm used to women having thighs that touch. This isn't to say that all women have heavy thighs. There are lots of grown up women with thing legs. I know this–I still had this visceral reaction to Hermione in that shot. For the past few days I keep standing in front of mirrors and feeling very perplexed because if I stand with my feet directly below my shoulders and look in a mirror my thighs barely touch. Mine have touched full on down to the knees for most of my adult life. Now the top inch touches. I don't think my thighs will rub by the time I get to the marathon.

I feel weird in my body. I feel like I am borrowing a body. I am pretending to be an athletic person. I feel disconnected from my legs–like they represent someone else. They just don't fit the rest of me. I feel weird and bad about the baby belly. Like all of a sudden it is magically a problem. My body has always been proportional! I liked being proportional! Fuck you belly! Everything else is getting smaller what is your fucking problem? But I this attachment in my mind to not trying to lose weight. So I eat a lot trying to keep weight on. My belly is not getting smaller. Ahem.

Especially with my hair this short. Especially with how dark of a tan I have now. I no longer look pale and goth-like. I savored that pallor for many years. Now I garden and run and spend the whole f'in day in the park. I don't wear sunscreen. I don't burn so I don't see the point in putting cancer causing agents on my skin. Noah needs to wear sunblock. Oh man.

I feel very uncomfortable about my body. I don't recognize it. I don't know it. I have a lot of time understanding its pleasure sensors and food needs. I feel very disconnected. I'm not sure if I have always been this disconnected or if it is a recent change. But all of a sudden I feel loathing for my body I am not used to. I was fairly cheerful about being fat. I knew how to dress to look good. I was "friendly fat" so to speak. I had some size 18 clothing, but not much. Mostly I was in the no-womans-land between Misses 14 and Womens 14. I certainly was encouraged by society to feel bad about my size. I was told by the media that I was disgusting. I didn't feel disgusting. I liked my body. I thought I looked quite good naked and that was what I cared about.

I don't like how I look naked right now. I feel lumpy and floppy and disproportionate. I feel like my breasts and my hips look sad and deflated next to my belly. I don't like looking at my belly and yet I do it compulsively. I think this is just my lizard-brain looking for another way to self-harm. If I decide that my belly is my enemy and disgusting and I should do something about it while I am simultaneously training for a marathon I am going to hurt myself quite badly. 

I'm afraid of a lot of the process of training for running. If I want to meet my goals I have to treat my body gently. I have to meet its needs. I'm not sure I even know what its needs are. I'm struggling with finding balance between needing to "work on my diet," because I do need to work towards more nutritious food, and not wanting to obsess and punish myself for being bad. It's hard when I realize that my approach to myself in my head is entirely punitive. If I breathe too loudly I should be punished. I'm taking up space in this world that wasn't meant for me. I am struggling with the size of the box in my head I am allowed to fill. 

Right now my weight is hanging out in the upper 150's/lower 160's. My legs are thinner than they have ever been in my life. My arms thinned out in pregnancy. My face thinned out in pregnancy. My upper back thinned out in pregnancy. Now my upper body really wants to hang out in a size 8. My hips would probably be happiest in a size 10 or 12. My waist is quite firmly still in size 14. With muffin top. I feel like my body is taking up the wrong space. I am wrong. I am out of place. I am out of order. I tell the kids my belly is awesome. Shanna is very affectionate with my belly and I encourage and support that. But I feel distant from this body. I want her to have only positive associations with her mothers body. I talk to her about fat redistributing on your body at different stages and sometimes you have more and sometimes you have less. I keep it very value neutral. I am extremely verbally positive about heavy people being attractive.

And I look in the mirror and I see not my body. I feel gross. I feel like I am not right. I am bad. I am too big and I am too small. I am not me. I'm trying not to show any actual panic. I really am a good actor.

It's interesting and useful for me to think about this current set of obsessive thoughts just as this week's version of self-harm. I'm really enjoying Over the Influence. It's the book on Harm Reduction Therapy. If the goal is just to be always moving towards less harm then I can give myself a little bit of a break. I know how much less harmful this thought process is than most of what I've done. I can see that I'm trying to justify feeling bad. I know that really I just feel bad and I don't need a why. If I can talk to my Lizard brain about it a bit I can see where the need to feel bad lives. 

I've been spending a fair bit of time in front of mirrors. I try to close the door so folks can't hear me. I look at myself. I say all of the things I wish that other people would say. I need to stop looking outside myself for validation. I can't have it. So I'm trying to give it to myself. I feel silly. I cry. But I say it. 

You are good. You are kind. You are patient. You are generous. You are honest. You are trustworthy. You work very hard. You have come a long way. Your body is perfect. Your body made two of the most delightful creatures in the world. What could possibly be wrong with it? You are strong. You will get stronger. Keep working. You will be able to do all of the things you say you will. You keep your fucking word. You are gentle. You are smart. You are resourceful. If you do not find a way you will make a way. Keep going. There is a lot left to do and not a whole lot of time.

 I am no longer defined by my sex appeal. I no longer need to worry about attracting attention the way I once did. I no longer particularly need to worry if my hip to waist ratio is appealing. It feels like I am getting a divorce from my body. I no longer live in it. I'm doing other things. I want to come back but I don't know this person. This person is invisible in different ways and visible for different reasons. I don't know how to handle it. I feel scared of this person. Not because this person will hurt me but because this person is vulnerable in ways I don't fully understand. I can't see the scope of it properly. I don't have much experience being this person out in the world. I have only been this person a short time. I'm still adjusting. I hear it takes four years to be properly past the postpartum period. My organs don't even know where they are going to live forever yet. What kind of home do I want them to live in? How much control do I have?

It's all quite terrifying, really.

Fake it till you make it?

Today I feel compelled to wear a belt because I am tired of yanking my jeans up all day long. I consider this a neutral to positive thing. I’m getting smaller slowly. I am not calorie counting in the slightest and I don’t want to. I’m mostly eating what I want. I’m trying to substitute a small amount of fat for large amount of sugar when I know I am comfort eating and that seems to make me feel ‘satisfied’ better. But when I wear a belt with these jeans I have a bulge above and below the belt. Because regardless of my overall size, I had a baby 7 months ago. My belly is very saggy right now. And I feel like I should try to hide that with some big tent-like shirt because I know those instinctive style rules. I know how to ‘slim’ my line. But I want to wear the bright purple shirt with ruffles. And it’s pretty fitted at my current size/shape.

Fuck ’em. I’m wearing the shirt.

Body changes

I reach a stage in pregnancy where I have zero interest in having any clothing touch my skin. I’m there. I’m actually thrilled that I am going to be in late pregnancy during summer. I really really wanted to go out today in a lycra tube top and a loose skirt. That sounds like the appropriate amount of material in contact with my body. But the high is going to be 62 and there will be scattered showers. Damnit. I’m not quite warm blooded enough for that combo. Life, she is unfair. 🙂

Wow, this is going to be complicated

Shanna was talking about her vulva this morning and acting questioning (this is where her language skills get a bit muddy) and I said, “Yup all girls have vulvas.” And then I stopped. Actually, no. All girls don’t have vulvas. But most girls do. And very few boys have vulvas. Man. I think things are going to be complicated to explain to her.

Fashion issues

I love the sundresses that are popular right now. Very long, I’m good with showing some cleavage and most importantly: the straps are adjustable. However there is one big problem with these dresses (and most of the tanktops I own) they were not cut for women with large breasts. If I wear them without a bra I am in imminent danger of falling out entirely at any second. (No really. It’s not a great thing.) If I wear a bra with them they look retarded because my bras are gi-fucking-normous in order to contain the vastness of my breasts. (Anyone who says, “but you aren’t that big” can kiss my lily white ass.) I don’t exactly appreciate having the top/dress look like little triangles floating on the sea of my bra. It’s fucking ugly and tacky.

Maybe I should have stopped watering them a long time ago.

Whine bitch moan (you’ve been warned)

Ok, so I’m having issues with clothing. As of this morning I own (for shirts) bdsm con t-shirts (not exactly universally appropriate but I’m wearing them at home and they are starting to wear out), t-shirts advertising Santa Teresa which I now feel sort of ambiguously about, tank tops, a couple of fancy shirts (velvet, lots of lace), and three snarky t-shirts rapidly on their way to wearing out (one had five noticeable holes in it the last time I looked).

But but… my body is in flux I don’t wanna spend money on clothes I won’t wear long! So I decided to STFU and went to Target and got a few shirts today. They are all very generic and plain and suitable for any and all occasions. I bought a couple new sweaters because I wear them constantly in the winter and most of the ones I own right now have large holes in them. I keep thinking I should learn how to knit well enough to fix the big holes in my sweaters, but that’s not something I am really going to do in the short term and I don’t wear sweaters anymore once I can put my fist through the hole. I also found a few pair of leggings that will allow me to wear skirts all winter long. w00t! But I feel bad about spending money on clothing. Amusingly, Noah cheers when I come home with new clothes cause it means he won’t have to hear me bitch about the holes in my clothes anymore. 🙂 I think I need to resign myself to filling out a wardrobe in this size because I plan to get pregnant again and it’s looking like I’m not going to be the sort who drops weight rapidly while breastfeeding. I should also move the things out of my closet that “will fit if I lose 10-15 lbs” because then I feel like I *have* clothes even though they don’t fit. Screw that. I need to fess up to myself that I don’t really have many clothes right now. I need to buy more so that I can put the maternity stuff away and not wear it out.

I know I whine about this regularly. I am slowly taking steps to fix the problem. I swear. It’s just hard for me. Spending money on clothing for me seems really lame for no good reason.

On my body, food, and happy mediums

Having a baby fucks with your body. No duh, I know. But it has fucked with my body in ways I didn’t anticipate. At the start of pregnancy I weighed 181. I had been steady at that exact number for a while. By the fourth month, after all the sickness, I was down to 169. At the end of my pregnancy I was 202. I was back to 181 by ten days after giving birth. In the past eight weeks weight started creeping on and I have waffled between 187 and 191. But I look different. My face and neck and upper chest and arms are the thinnest they have ever been in my life. I would say noticeably thinner than when I weighed 155. So all of the added padding is between my boobs and my knees. My efforts on google tell me that my breasts probably weigh about five pounds more than they did when I was at my lightest. This results in me having a noticeably padded middle and butt. Fair enough. I would mind more if Noah whistled less often. I’m sorta half-assedly thinking about size but mostly thinking about strength. I would like to get back into my size 12 clothes because I have more in that size and they are cute. Seeing as I care more about being smaller than about being lighter exercise is more important than diet, though diet helps. I’m walking at least five miles a week and feeling terrible that I’m not doing more. I’m doing the 100 push up challenge (damnit, I have to do week two again cause I’m such a wuss). I’m starting to do more planks and I’ve been doing alright with crunches. I should get in some heavier exercising, but it’s hard to do with munchkin. I want to start yoga but I’m too big of a pussy to leave munchkin for that much time at a go. I need to do more and I just haven’t yet.

Then there is that sex stuff. When we have sex I feel sore at the beginning as if I’ve been having tons of sex recently and uhhh we haven’t been having tons of sex. I would like that feeling to go away already. Orgasm is still inconsistent and not as amazing as pre-kid. I’m working on it. It’s hard to work on it when I don’t have a lot of time to spend on it though.

Then there is sleep. I am so tired. And before anyone thinks to say, “Well duh you are sleep deprived” no–you don’t understand. I’m not sleep deprived. I’m sleeping 8-10 hours a night and still napping during the day. I don’t understand how anyone can work with a nursing baby. I’m muddled and confused a lot of the time. And I don’t do all of the nighttime parenting–Noah changes as many or more diapers than I do. (Have I mentioned how much Noah rocks?) The munchkin sleeps for 5-7 hour blocks most nights. She starts waking up every 3 hours after the first big chunk cause she eats a little then falls back asleep. I really can’t complain about her sleeping though.

So, I don’t want to go on a diet. Let me explain why. Not that anyone really cares, but I like to babble. There is the altruistic reason: if you take dieting too seriously it compromises milk supply. I’m not going to do that. But let’s get serious. The reason I am not going to diet is because I am so fucking hungry if a slow moving cow went passed me I might clean the bones before it could get by. I wasn’t told that my own leg would start to look tasty. I’m hiding how much I eat most days because I feel sort of ashamed of how much I am eating. I went to eat with a friend last weekend and I didn’t finish off all the food on the table even though I wanted to because I felt gross. 🙁 I don’t actually think she would have any sort of negative thoughts based on that (and hell, she’s going to read this) but I’m really not rational in the moment. As a result of my constant ravenous hunger I am trying to increase the percentage of my diet devoted to vegetables. This is a struggle, but I’m doing ok. We are cooking a lot. I’m actually really proud of how much we are cooking. We have managed to cook at least five nights a week for the past month and some. Some of the nights we don’t it’s cause we have too many leftovers. 🙂 I’m eating out of the house about three meals a week. That’s really awesome when I compare it to pregnancy where I was eating out of the house 15+ times a week. So I’m all proud. 🙂 I’m cooking a greater variety of things than I ever have before (another yay for Noah and his cheerful encouragement of my efforts!) and Noah has been cooking things I’ve never had. I’m being GGG.

Let me tell you though. Cooking, shopping, meal planning, and clean up is fucking daunting. No wonder I never managed when I was working. I can’t believe anyone has the time to really do it while working full time. I realize that my epiphany is really lame, but I can’t believe that women are expected to keep up with this while working. And many relationships do have that expectation. I’ve always been spoiled (uhm rich enough) to not have to deal with it as an adult. And my kid isn’t additional work yet. My respect for working mothers is growing by the day.

I’ve made messloads of progress on the garage. It’s just about clean enough so that I can park in it. I have it in the back of my mind how much it will suck to load the munchkin into the car in the rain. So I’m working towards being able to use the garage. 🙂

So the happy mediums I am struggling to find: eating enough and trying to figure out how to have my diet be healthier than not, sufficient exercise to increase my strength faster than she gets heavy (oof lifting a toddler would be rough right now), enough sex to keep Noah and I both on a more even keel emotionally, keeping the house clean enough to not feel guilty while not stressing about perfection, and spending enough time reading. 🙂

Payback is a bitch.

When I was a kid I used to tease my mom as she got dressed. I always called it “stuffing the sausage” when she put on pantyhose. Today I bought two girdles because without them I can’t wear a dress. I’m tired of rashes and pain as I walk. As I tried them on and watched myself wiggle trying to get the fat properly placed I had to laugh.

I am so not telling my mother.

Optimistic?

I’m not sure if it is optimism or foolish dreams that is causing me to pack up my size 10 clothes for storage. Size 12 doesn’t seem outside the realm of reasonable expectation for me to get back to so I don’t feel bad about keeping those clothes. Size 10 though… hm. I really liked being that size. I liked how my body felt. I liked the fact that I was very fit. I liked that I didn’t get freakin rashes on my inner thighs.

As it is, I’m just leaving the size 14’s out of storage for post-baby wear. I make the assumption that it won’t be too hard to get to there. 🙂 That is the size I’ve been more than any other since hitting full grown.

Apropos of nothing.

I walked past a mirror and noticed that my neck/face look way thinner than they used to. So I measured my neck. My neck is an inch a quarter smaller around than it used to be. Wow. That’s a big difference. And I think my upper arms are a lot smaller than they used to be as well.

So after childbirth I just need to figure out how to get my thighs to decrease in size and I’ll be totally freakin set. 🙂

The thing about having a lot of free time is

I get to think about things a lot. In the past week theferrett wrote about the Open Source Boob Project. I will confess that I am not completely done with all the comments (dude–there are 1300+ of them…) but I’m a fair way into them. And I’m having a lot of thoughts about it. I think I am starting to bore Noah, so I’ll share with lj instead.

I will even cut it because it got long and I don’t want capnkjb to get mad at me. 🙂

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body angst

So much of how I see myself is wrapped up in my competence. For all that I make fun of not being good at things, no really–I am fuck-you good at a lot of things.

And I can’t do them right now. And my body is awkward. And I feel stupid and lame and like I’m a big fat failure. “I know that isn’t true.” It’s how I feel. It really hurts watching people go off and do things that I am really good at and I can’t do it. Hell, it’s annoying that getting up from furniture is getting difficult sometimes. Even as I accept help I feel like I am more and more pathetic.

Tonight isn’t my best night ever.

Body image and sex and societal programming, Oh my!

Recently one of my beloved g-bloggers brought up how she is going through changes in her body image/self-image post-baby and I didn’t comment at the time because I had too many thoughts to be able to make sense of them at the time. I’ve been thinking about it a lot since then though and I think I am more able to be coherent.
(Nope, not sure I was more coherent. WAY long-winded and rambly. Ah well. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. 🙂

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