It’s about sunbathing. I love that. It’s about post menopausal weight gain. I hate that. I am told that I am lucky, that this “false fat” that has "only" taken me to 8 stones is NOTHING! That’s 8 x 14lbs for those who are obsessed with numbers … and of course I am not … though it has been a full 3 nano seconds since I last checked if I had sweated any of it off in the burst of heat that hit the u.k. today. I am used to being 7 and a half stones. I am happier with 7st but I have to be grieving a death or expecting my own annihilation for that. Yes, my ex's death threats still muddle my neurones from time to time ... great recipe for lack of appetite!
Actually, there was a time when stress took me down to 6st … I have to admit that when a sort-of lover at the time gasped “geez ...” (he hadn’t seen me naked for some time) I did wonder if there was such a thing as too skinny. But I was weirdly delirious most of the time back then, so I am sure we were both wrong. I don’t eat much. I am not a profoundly healthy eater but I am certainly not a KFC gal either.
I have tried to think it away. I do find structured exercise mind-numbing, so thought that thought itself might be a good way to go, since it is what I do excessively, expertly, anyway. I don’t CARE that forever people have told me I am underweight. I don’t CARE that when they finally diagnosed and removed my humungous gall stone (that had given me grief for an incredible 16yrs) I had to wear those cute and rather relaxing leg things that vibrate and prevent DVT. All the time. For two days. Apparently I was on the high risk list as being underweight. I don’t CARE … I want to be underweight again! It really was no trouble at all unhooking myself from the mains and wheeling the eventually unhooked drip, leggings disarrayed, and myself, to the loo ... albeit only on the second day when I had caught up on some much needed sleep.
They worried about that too, but I reckon it was all fine. I was exhausted: I had a very wrong b/f situation going on, my son was living with me and my beloved cosmic housebunny, Bruce, had just died. I had just spent a sleepless week nursing him through horrific seizures after his totally unexpected stroke. Any questions??
Anyhow, since I am unlikely to develop another gallstone, due to its likely location being terminated, along with its spiritual and emotional originators, why can't I just be a stick insect again now, please ... Thin Again Angels, ARE you listening??
So, although all my clothes still fit, jeans are not comfortable like they used to be. Guess what my fave clothing is in the leg dept?? Ha! As for bikinis … well, whose is that bum and belly that seems to assume beer-vat proportions and is most certainly not mine, despite the sit-ups and occasional geriatric pole dance?? Well, I can tell you, it ain’t mine! I am invaded! My body has been taken over and I just can’t wait for the darn thing to hatch and explode outwards … maybe then I stand a chance of regaining concavity. *Humph*
Actually, there was a time when stress took me down to 6st … I have to admit that when a sort-of lover at the time gasped “geez ...” (he hadn’t seen me naked for some time) I did wonder if there was such a thing as too skinny. But I was weirdly delirious most of the time back then, so I am sure we were both wrong. I don’t eat much. I am not a profoundly healthy eater but I am certainly not a KFC gal either.
I have tried to think it away. I do find structured exercise mind-numbing, so thought that thought itself might be a good way to go, since it is what I do excessively, expertly, anyway. I don’t CARE that forever people have told me I am underweight. I don’t CARE that when they finally diagnosed and removed my humungous gall stone (that had given me grief for an incredible 16yrs) I had to wear those cute and rather relaxing leg things that vibrate and prevent DVT. All the time. For two days. Apparently I was on the high risk list as being underweight. I don’t CARE … I want to be underweight again! It really was no trouble at all unhooking myself from the mains and wheeling the eventually unhooked drip, leggings disarrayed, and myself, to the loo ... albeit only on the second day when I had caught up on some much needed sleep.
They worried about that too, but I reckon it was all fine. I was exhausted: I had a very wrong b/f situation going on, my son was living with me and my beloved cosmic housebunny, Bruce, had just died. I had just spent a sleepless week nursing him through horrific seizures after his totally unexpected stroke. Any questions??
Anyhow, since I am unlikely to develop another gallstone, due to its likely location being terminated, along with its spiritual and emotional originators, why can't I just be a stick insect again now, please ... Thin Again Angels, ARE you listening??
So, although all my clothes still fit, jeans are not comfortable like they used to be. Guess what my fave clothing is in the leg dept?? Ha! As for bikinis … well, whose is that bum and belly that seems to assume beer-vat proportions and is most certainly not mine, despite the sit-ups and occasional geriatric pole dance?? Well, I can tell you, it ain’t mine! I am invaded! My body has been taken over and I just can’t wait for the darn thing to hatch and explode outwards … maybe then I stand a chance of regaining concavity. *Humph*
