16.2.10 @ 20:20
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So I put on this great halter top the other day and it was red. I love red. Even better I love how red looks on me. Fabulous. I left the house and was happily riding shotgun thinking how great I looked when I happened a glance in the mirror at the side of the car. My God! It was not a pretty sight. Back fat never is. After a few gulping breaths to calm down I inspected myself with different angles. It was a total train wreck. There is nothing like a little (or a lot) of unnecessary, offensive skin bulging in all the wrong places. I was horrified. When did this happen to me. Was it the mcdonalds excursion last week or the creamy dill chips the other day? I immediately let the old, shaggy blanket of depression settle around me like an old lady in a frayed shawl. This was not unfamiliar. At least once a month (eye roll) I feel this way. I was nearly fully wrapped up in my nasty shawl when my guy says “self hatred like that is really unattractive”. Well I’m not too proud to admit my first reaction was to hit him. I didn’t. I opened my mouth to shoot off something hatefully witty when it dawned on me he was right. Hmm. What a novel thought. He was right. My reaciton was more ugly than the extra flesh cropping up under my armpits like corn in August.