I've just come from the doctors office. Nothing huge, just a check in with the doctor. Time to adjust some medication and all that jazz. No, nothing important at all, yet.......they insist on weighing me. Right after the holidays? I believe that to be illegal in this, and four other states. It's not? Well. It should be. I mean, seriously should be. Now, I'm not petite in any sense of the word. I was 5'9" when I was 12 years old. Yes, you read that right. I was TWELVE! My daughter is 12 and I'm happy to say that she's still quite a bit shorter than I am. Bless her.
I've always wanted to be 5'2". Doesn't that just sound like the perfect height for a woman? Indeed. Women should be small. Petite. Demure. Easily protected by their bigger, stronger counterparts; namely- men. I've always liked the way it looked when a man dances with or hugs a cute, little woman. She looks so small and helpless in his arms. I L.O.V.E. that. I've never had that. No, not me. I'm always nearly as tall as the man I'm with. Or, worse yet....taller. No, I've never known what it feels like to get "lost in a mans arms". I've never been picked up and thrown over a mans shoulder whilst he carries me through a doorway or onto a boat or someplace else, both exotic and romantic. Never. I long for these experiences. As maybe some of you do, too.
Now, I know that this makes me sound super old fashioned and not very much the feminist. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Is it possible that I can be both modern and romantic, feminine and feminist all rolled up into one? Can I possibly be a woman who knows that I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, but would really enjoy not having to? Surely.
Not that height necessarily warrants these issues of inner turmoil, alas that's my main issue: the LBS. I hate my weight. I've hated my weight since I can remember. I've had issues with food, since I can remember. My mother used to say, possibly still does say, "You can never be too rich or too THIN." I've been hearing this since I was a baby. Mind you, I was a thin child. Average, we call it. Boy, if there was ever a time I think that the word should be something more like "SUPREME" or "EXCELLENT'", it's when it comes to weight. Saying that someone is "average" weight is crap. Truth be told the "average" weight for any America is "over"weight. But, you know what I mean when I say I was "average" weight as a child. I was even thin as a teen ager. I was pretty hot when I met my husband, although I never thought so at the time. Funny how that backwards glance at oneself, is truly the clearest view possible, isn't it? At any rate, I really didn't start to pack on the pounds until I got pregnant. Ah, yes---baby weight.
My children are nearly 13 and 9 1/2, respectively. Hm? Maybe, calling it "baby" weight still isn't fair. But, to be fair, I do work out. Hard. I do eat right. Okay, well....most of the time, I do. The holidays are just a horrible time to be super strict on diet. Regardless, I am a water drinker, not a soda swigger. I hate mayonnaise and salad dressing. I don't eat cheese on my sandwiches. I rarely eat fast food. You get the picture. Anyway, even with all that, diet pills and anything else you can think of....I'm still, shall we say, "plump"? No? Okay, I'm fat. Really, really, fat. Sturdy, they call us. Thick. Husky. Robust.
The size man I would need to "get lost in his arms" or to be "whisked away over a threshold", is staggering. I'm talking Olympic weight lifter big. You know the type. The man who's thighs are as big around as his waist is. Unfortunately, all those guys are with girls who weight about 85 lbs, dripping wet. It's really unfair. There should be some mandate that certain size people need to stick together. Why do all those tiny bitches get all the big, strong guys? Why is it always the 4'10" girl who dates the 6'5" guy? I mean, come on! Throw me a bone, people. Seriously.
Then, of course, it doesn't help that my parents moved me from a state with normal sized people, Texas, to the "thinnest" state in the country, Colorado. I mean, what were they thinking? People in Colorado jog. All the time. Like in a damn blizzard, you'll still see dumb ass people out running. Give me a break. Why oh why, can't I move back to Texas where gravy is a beverage and people know better than to run anywhere because you'll give yourself a heart attack in the heat? Cheese and rice, people. It's just common sense! No. I'm stuck here. In "God's Country". With all these crazy health nuts. Of course, one would think that it should have rubbed off on me by now. Yeah. No. It hasn't. I still see the outdoors as a punishment. You want to hurt me. Send me outside. I see it as a necessary evil of course. Where else would they put a mall? I mean, you need that open space, right?
I digress. My point really is this, 1) even though I'm a cow, I'm still a good, kind person. 2) no one should ever weigh you between November 1st and March 2nd (that's between Halloween and my birthday) 3) y'all short, skinny chicks need to lay off the big, hunky guys; save them for us "sturdy" girls. Maybe....just maybe, one day, my body with decide to cooperate and I'll loose enough weight that my wonderfully strong husband could at least lift me through a doorway or something, without giving himself another hernia. No. The first one was NOT because he lifted me anywhere, at any time.
To all you skinny "Pefect" bitches----eat a cookie, already.
Take a deep breath................it's just another day in "Perfect"!!!!!!
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