On the IPOD "All My Days" by: Alexi Murdoch
I have a love/hate relationship with Halloween. I love that I get to dress up and that its an excuse to really just have fun!! But I hate that I have to not only look at bags of my favorite candies for 2 months prior but I also then have to walk by rows and rows of my favorite candy on sale for a good month afterwards. After not having luck finding a naughty school girl plaid skirt in my size, I decided to dress up like a "Yogaholic who is addicted to Botox". I wore yoga pants, 2 different color sports bras overlapping, a tank top, a pink cloth head band, about 5 pounds of fake hair (in a pony tail), serious amounts of makeup, and I carried a yoga mat, an ecofriendly water bottle, and a small round ice compress for my botox injections. There are pictures on facebook!! It was really fun and we really had a great time!! Unfortunately I had to work on Sunday morning (working on the weekends is become a very annoying trend. I'm not complaining about the work...just feeling a little burnt out at the moment.) so that is why it has taken me so long to post.
Not to abruptly change subjects but I wish that I could tell you that I am not incredibly cruel to myself. When I look in the mirror I wish I could be happy about how my body is changing so much but instead I feel myself nitpicking everything. I am probably my worst critic. I have been thinking more and more about being 12 years old and being in the 6th grade (reference back to a post called 12 years old). I guess it has been weighing on me a little more than I thought... There is slightly more to the story that I didn't really discuss that I feel like I need to. In 6th grade after the occurrence that happened in the morning service, my weight continued to be a source of tormenting. It got so bad that I started making myself throw up so that I wouldn't have to go to school. My parents were completely distraught and took me to every specialist in town because they thought that I was really sick...I ended up in the hospital for about a week and then they brought me home and I still would not stop throwing up. They ended up putting me in a treatment facility ( yes you can call me Britney Spears if you want). I went through a complete program for about a month and never explained to anyone the real reasons for me not wanted to go to school. Looking back I really don't know why I kept it a secret maybe I was just embarrassed that I was being made fun of or maybe I was afraid that my father would be right and my life would truly be better if I was skinny...
A few friends have asked me if I want an apology from the girls who treated me this way...That is a very hard question. Of coarse it would be nice to hear that they have regrets over what was done to me and that they know after all these years that what they did was wrong. Then there is another part of me that feels like they would think that if they did apologize that it would make it just go away (which it wouldn't). I guess an apology would give me the satisfaction of knowing that someone was owning up to it. But whether I ever get one or not I have to learn how to stop abusing myself. I friend of mine sent me a posted picture of a girl in her underwear and on the picture there were words and phrases written on each body part like one leg ran through India the other ran a 12km, her hands can knead dough and so on... I look at my body and I see pain... It makes me feel uncomfortable at times. There are the odd times that I say "Oh wow. your lookin good Amanda." But to tell you the truth those times are few and far between. More frequently I stare at myself convince myself that I looked like Ive gained a couple pounds, then I get exceedingly nervous, I jump on the scale and then I finally believe that I'm still doing ok. You are probably reading this thinking what a freak... but I could sit here and tell you how much I love myself and how I feel so confident and blah blah blah....Yeah the feelings just don't go away like that. I am truthfully explaining that although I love who I am as a person, I do not love my outside. I don't like the way I look in clothes ( or not in clothes). I pick out new wrinkles and stretch marks on a regular basis... And my hair well just pretty much doesn't cooperate. I'm sure I could look at a picture of myself and write all the nice things my body has done for me, but it would be difficult to not include the reasons I'm angry at it. I don't know maybe I should do both. Anyways I guess why I am writing about this is because I want to make it real clear that the things we say to each other and to ourselves will never really go away even if we apologize profusely. They become ingrained in us. They make us who we are...for good or bad.
xoxo chef a