Did you know that birds poop on red cars the most?
Did you know that if you tickle the feet of a baby it will grow up to stutter?
Did you know if you dream about a wedding, somebody is actually going to die?
Did you know that if you drop a fork a man will come to visit, but if you drop a spoon a woman is going to visit?
Useless, the internet is full of uselessness. However, there are also some important things out there too, like this page you’re reading right now. Not only does it deliver useless entertainment and a window to the world of a girl that is just trying to get by in life, but it gives that same girl an outlet to rant, rave, and crave things that probably should be left unsaid. That being said, let me say a few things.
The ole “Adventures” page has been pretty dormant, I’m not going to lie, I’ve been neglecting it just like I’ve been neglecting my very own self. Not in a hateful, self-harm way, don’t worry about that, but neglecting a certain facet of me that has been menacing and growling like a beast for the past month. Even though it growls, I neglect it. The cry for attention goes unnoticed and about my normal life I’ve gone. I’m ignoring my poor body image, and I’m neglecting the thoughts that feed it. It’s there, I know it is, but I’m moving on.
It’s not so much an epiphany as it is a realization that living that way sucks – it REALLY sucks. Imagine walking around with your head cast down to the ground but putting on a happy face so that people don’t ask you what’s wrong with you all the time. (that gets really annoying by the way, and if encounter somebody like that, just say “I’m here if you need to talk”). I spent the month prior hating my body because it wasn’t good enough for California, I wasn’t bronze, I wasn’t beautiful. I also spent a large amount of that month on ridiculous diet pills that did nothing. When I say “nothing”, I really REALLY mean nothing. They might as well have been saw dust in a #1 capsule for all I know. I was mortified, my body wasn’t changing.
I wanted it to change though, it was just there, lumpy in areas, and just kind of “bleh”. I tried eating well, I tried the gym (and still go…it’s actually sort of fun), and I tried doing all the “healthy living” tips that you can find on the internet. Nothing happened. I did refuse, however, to succumb to a nagging notion that perhaps restricting my eating would alleviate my problem. There was no way I was going to wander back down that slippery slope. I know the hell I put my family and friends through the last time I decided 200 calories a day was a winning concept. I’m not doing it again.
So I had to think long and hard about what I was going to do. The “plan” wasn’t working, I wasn’t going to starve myself. Bulimia never really makes me lose weight, so what was the answer? What was I supposed to do? Change…but what.
WHAT!?!?! For fucks sake.
As I lay basking in the sun atop a pier on a sunny lake, I realized I was laying there in broad daylight in a bathing suit. A bathing suit that I wasn’t ready for. My body was still lumpy and my belly was still swollen from the fun the night before. The fun that included excellent company, food, and beverages. All the things that I enjoy in life, and would probably have to give up if I in fact wanted to get a bikini ready body. I say there on that pier, listening to great music, talking with excellent company, realizing I’m not so bad. I’m not so bad at all. The only thing really “bad” about me is my perception.
Of course, perception is reality – and reality, what a concept.
I sat there, surrounded by Miller Lite cans in my own personal bliss. A happiness that I haven’t felt since probably childhood. A sort of wonderment with my body, almost like a baby that first find it’s toes and tries to play with them (that same baby that would stutter if you tickles those same toes). I realized that I have an awesome life, full of red cars (that will get pooped on), an awesome man that visits me (and I don’t even have to drop forks), and dreams of beaches and race cars (why the hell would I dream of weddings anyways?). All of those ridiculous things that I’m supposed to be aware of and think about.
I was aware of a few things, none of them superstition based. I’m silly, I dance even though I do so poorly. I sing, but can’t carry a tune. I write, but don’t know proper English. I’m just awkwardly me, and if anything, an awkward lumpy body almost suits me – with my awkward lumpy personality. Let’s be honest though, some of my lumps are in the right places, and others, well, it just shows that I might spend more time basking in the warmth of summer sunshine drinking Miller Lite than I do running on treadmills. It’s me, I can’t change that, just like I can’t change the fact that if your palms itch you’ll come into money.
That one is true, my Great Grandmother Reiche used to say it, so it HAS to be true.