Everybody's got baggage. Mine, comes in the form of a chubby tummy and thunder thighs. I'm not fat, and I know that. But I'm also not happy. So, weight (see I know how to spell it) has always been an issue for me. Of course having a father and ex-boyfriend who both have made me feel terribly out of shape, unhealthy, worthless, etc. . . has not helped the poor self image I developed in middle school.
Middle school. Let me just not get into that.
I have always been horribly uncoordinated. Add that to a love for the arts, and you get a little 2nd grade girl who enjoys writing essays, reading, singing, dancing, and drawing family portraits. I haven't always been totally out of the sports loop! I have an unnatural passion for the Olympics.
I was on our town's swim team from age 6 to 16. I enjoyed that because I felt so light in the water, and because I was a little bit better than the average swimmers my age. I was always in the second to last heat. That's better than a first place ribbon to me! But I guess the feeling weightless underwater aspect was why I stuck with it for so long.
The writing essays thing? That love came from having two parents with their Master's degrees in English. Reading, too.
Singing- my mom's family is musical way back. I love to be in a good chamber choir. If I didn't hate voice majors so much, I would probably still want to be a choral teacher.
The dancing, well I feel great when I dance, but lets just say I pretty much had to quit after one year of ballet lessons. No one wanted to watch me!
And I guess art has always been a thing of mine. Drew my first family portrait (oil pastel and water color) at age 2 and a half. Started taking water color lessons at six. But it was not until I reached high school and met my art teacher, Dr. Benton, that I realized I might actually have some talent. My parents were as surprised as I was.
Although in high school I was in marching band, musical theatre, chorus, and took all honors courses, I always made room in my schedule for at least one art class. By senior year (post mean ex breakup), I was taking 3 art classes, including and AP class, and had dropped band in order to do so. But I guess you could really call it 4 art classes, since I almost always skipped lunch to stay in the art room. My musical theatre teacher let me go to the art room too, most of the time. So I was there 5 out of 7 classes.
Why did I need to get away so bad?? Well, my friends had all graduated, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that the other kids in my graduating class still didn't really think much of me. Plus, there was that jerk boyfriend who didn't want me to have friends.
So, the weight issue and the friend issue combined. And I didn't go to lunch a single time, after the first week. It was awkward to eat in the art room, but I didn't have much of an appetite anyways.
Since art was my first period class, Dr. Benton cut me slack if I didn't always get there on time. Waking up late = no breakfast.
Suddenly, I found myself eating only one meal a day, and that meal started to get smaller and smaller. 'I had a big lunch," or, "I don't feel very good."
There I was, not eating, not friending, not reading or dancing, not writing, not sleeping, not smiling. Just art-ing. And that is where the numb/art problem was born.
Well I finally grew the balls to break up with the bf (although at the time, I wasn't even brave enough to tell him it was a permanent break), and slowly, I started hanging out with people my age. Spring semester of my senior year was the most fun I've had thus far. I dated a few different guys. One ending in total heartbreak (I still want revenge), the other ending in me realizing how young and stupid I was (we had nothing in common). BUT I was finally healthy skinny. And I was actually proud of my body that summer. But the freshman 30 was yet to come.
Well it's two years later, tons of struggle under my belt and a year and a half of college. I say college, but its more like 13th and 14th grade. At least I no longer have a curfew.
I have a boyfriend who actually means it when he tells me I look great, and who I can totally agree with on every level of any subject.
So now, my weight is something that bothers only me. There is absolutely no one pushing me. No one waking me up early in the morning to make me go to the gym or to run.
But the numbness doesn't really go away. I might cry, I might laugh. But my art is merely created through my knowledge of atheistics. There is no emotion in the paint.
In December, I came to the conclusion that if I could lose those 30 pounds again, in a healthy way, making myself love to excercie, that I would probably start to feel a tingle.
10 pounds down, and I am so happy that my pants don't fit.
I'm doing the Atkins diet, which is not very fulfilling to me, but healthy as far as diets go. And since it teaches you to add healthy carbs, slowly, I should be able to maintain my comfortable weight.
I do crunches every night, stretch every day, meditate when I can, and do Zumba every other day. I'm learning to actually like being healthy.
Still not feeling the tingle, but at least I know I'm losing the wait.
(I love a good pun)