Diet = Epic Fail

So the first two days of my diet went horrifically.

Yesterday wasn't too bad, really. I did an hour of cardio in the morning and actually did things like measure out my pasta and stuff. But today was kind of a disaster. I didn't work out today at all, and then I went to get sushi with Lauren for lunch. And ugh, being on a diet is so frustrating. Cause when I go out for sushi I want to actually eat sushi, right? Not just have a vegetarian maki roll and call it a day. And then tonight I just ate dinner cause I was hungry and then had two and a half bowls of ice cream. It was non fat sugar free ice cream. But still. I ate about 22 points when my limit really should be 19.

Ugh, I'm so bad at dieting this year. I think it boils down to the fact that I don't hate myself nearly as much as I did freshman year. I had a really, really awful experience with a boy during welcome week, which pretty much set off a Why-Am-I-Not-Good-Enough-To-Date cycle which manifested itself in me blaming my weight and dealing with it by working out an hour a day (every day) and eating like 1200 calories. For months. By the end of the year I had lost twenty pounds, yes. But my period stopped for a year afterwards. My hair fell out. I wouldn't leave the dorm room to do fun things because I was afraid I'd eat something. And I still thought I was fat. I felt worthless because I couldn't lose those three pounds to reach 115.

I've honestly always hated when girls obsess about their weight, or call themselves fat or ugly. I honestly think that as long as someone is happy with the way they look and who they are as a person weight doesn't matter at all. I don't like people because they are skinny, and I don't think that other people do either (or at least not anyone that I want to be friends with). So why do I have two sides of my personality like this? Why does one half of me hate the media and the fashion industry for portraying anorexic, drug addicted 14 year olds as the image of womanly perfection while the other half of me berates myself and feels completely unlovable for gaining 7 pounds since freshman year?

I really can't answer that. I know that I've always had hang ups about my weight, even as a child. I don't think I ever thought of myself as fat until two of the boys in my second grade class made a "Fat kids" list and I was on it. Doing ballet for years didn't help either, watching all of these skinny little girls prance around just emphasized the fact that I definitely did not look like them. And then, of course, there was the time that my Nonna told me that I "had a very nice figure, even if [I was] big around the bottom." It's not easy to disregard something your peers say about your weight. It is far, far more difficult than that to disregard something your own grandmother says.

I know I have to somehow get rid of this mindset that I'm only lovable and datable when I'm less than 120 pounds. I have to remind myself that oh hey, I never got asked out that short summer when I was 118 pounds, either. So maybe the reason why boys don't like me isn't my weight. But I honestly really don't know what the real reason is for the fact that I get asked out so, so infrequently. I think I'm nice, and funny, and smart, and I have a cute haircut. I'm a damn good cook. I dress well. Yes, I weight 125 pounds. But I work out five times a week and do yoga. I'm stronger and in better shape than I have been in my entire life. I'm a champion multi-tasker, I can never imagine myself becoming clingy, and I realize everyone needs alone time. I think I'd be an excellent girlfriend.

I like enjoying my life. I hate feeling worthless because I was hungry and ate one apple too many and went over my weight watchers points allotment for the day. I hate constantly thinking about food and all the things I wish I could eat but can't because OMG THE CALORIES. I mean, yeah, the two and half bowls of ice cream probably isn't the best thing. I might stop buying ice cream for good starting tomorrow. But I think the moral of this whole post is that I feel way better about myself this year than I have in a really long time. And I don't know why I still have days and weeks where I still loathe everything about the way I look. Because other than that, I'm totally confident about myself and my abilities. Sometimes I'm a little over-confident, a little too convinced of my own cleverness. I just wish my perception of my looks would catch up to my perception of my abilities. Cause frankly, nothing that I want in life requires me to be skinny. It certainly doesn't require me to develop an eating disorder and a coke addiction.

I think I'm going to sign off on this blog post and go to bed (I have to wake up ridiculously early to drive my mom to work tomorrow so I have a car, then somehow do my homework, get my passport, and get a haircut before 2:00) with a shout out to the Little Anorexic Girl who lives in my head: Shut the Fuck Up and Leave Me the Fuck Alone.

So there.