This makes my head spin
Oct. 30th, 2003 01:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightlotusmoonhttp://www.msnbc.com/news/984647.asp
Then again, the bizarre conundrum that is Britney Spears has always made American females cry in frustration and homicidal confusion.
What follows is going down as a journal entry, because, naturally, I started this as a journal, allowing the public to see, and I know that for my psychological well-being I should do this more often so I know how to track myself.
I pulled my trigger again today. I ate a big breakfast, and a big lunch, and in the bathroom I looked in the full-length mirror and pulled up my shirt and eased down the waist of my pants to see if I'd expanded. Then I smacked my hand (Bad! Stop that!) and told myself to mark the incident down for future reference. Because it had not been a thought of, "Hey, wow, I wonder if I gained any weight, hurrah," it was a thought of, "Uh oh, I might gain too much, gotta be careful," and that's hurtful and not good. Because I know I'm still too thin and I shouldn't be thinking those things anymore because I'm recovering, right?
I finally got to see what it's like at the low end of the size spectrum, grim reality, after reading a magazine article about clothes for various sizes, and they showed models of all sizes, in dresses that showed off arms and legs. The size eight was softly slender. The size six was on the thin side of slender, but still healthy. The size four was painfully thin. The size two looked emaciated.
I am still a size zero. If that. What do I look like, then? Those who see me should have every right to stare in pity. No one looks at me and sees extra flesh, they see not enough. Some are jealous, until they see the flash of bone. No one is happy with the way they are. That size six model looked beautiful and perfect.
Wake up calls. Just as powerful as triggers.
Then again, the bizarre conundrum that is Britney Spears has always made American females cry in frustration and homicidal confusion.
What follows is going down as a journal entry, because, naturally, I started this as a journal, allowing the public to see, and I know that for my psychological well-being I should do this more often so I know how to track myself.
I pulled my trigger again today. I ate a big breakfast, and a big lunch, and in the bathroom I looked in the full-length mirror and pulled up my shirt and eased down the waist of my pants to see if I'd expanded. Then I smacked my hand (Bad! Stop that!) and told myself to mark the incident down for future reference. Because it had not been a thought of, "Hey, wow, I wonder if I gained any weight, hurrah," it was a thought of, "Uh oh, I might gain too much, gotta be careful," and that's hurtful and not good. Because I know I'm still too thin and I shouldn't be thinking those things anymore because I'm recovering, right?
I finally got to see what it's like at the low end of the size spectrum, grim reality, after reading a magazine article about clothes for various sizes, and they showed models of all sizes, in dresses that showed off arms and legs. The size eight was softly slender. The size six was on the thin side of slender, but still healthy. The size four was painfully thin. The size two looked emaciated.
I am still a size zero. If that. What do I look like, then? Those who see me should have every right to stare in pity. No one looks at me and sees extra flesh, they see not enough. Some are jealous, until they see the flash of bone. No one is happy with the way they are. That size six model looked beautiful and perfect.
Wake up calls. Just as powerful as triggers.
