*Sigh* Anyway. I have a problem. A very common, typical and annoying problem women and especially young adult females go through. Yes, I'm sick of it, too. Thus I rant. Read it if you like, I'm just going to rant and vent a bit here for my health's sake...
Power's been out for over a month. We just got it back today. In said month's time, all I've eaten are crackers, subs, and Asian takeout. Needless to say, that is a HUGE deviation from what I usually eat. And although I'm well aware it was better than nothing and I am thankful for being able to eat at all...Call me over-dramatic. Call me "one of those girls". Call me stupid. Call me overreacting. But it's a huge thing that I've gained a mere five pounds since I've started eating like this. Hell, it probably doesn't even show. I can't tell. I can't feel anything different. Five pounds might even do me well. But five pounds is not the weight I've had for the past few years. Yes. I am panicking, as stupid, silly and unnecessary as that sounds. But I have good reason...
I panic about gaining weight not because I want to look like a supermodel. Not because I want to be skinny. Not because I want to fit into clothes. Not for some guy who doesn't exist. I panic about gaining weight in any unnatural way...because of my mom. My mother has struggled with her weight since...forever, it seems, even though I see pictures of her when I was seven and she was actually exactly where she wants to be now, unlike the way I remember her...I don't know why, either...
Thus all I remember is growing up watching her struggle, watching her attempt different ways to combat her weight, involving my brothers and I in subtle, helpful ways by teaching us to love organic and whole foods. We all still do, but I more than...everyone, really. I'm the health freak. Emphasis on freak. I drive everyone, including myself, obviously, crazy about eating good or better food choices.
So the fact that I've gained a mere five pounds within a week or so results in my heaving a nervous breakdown last night. I literally had to tell myself to shut up so I could get some sleep to wake up for school. Worked, but....the point I'm trying to make is...I don't want to end up like my mom. That's it in a nutshell. Because of her weight issues, I she was unable to do things she really wanted to do, and once did because her body just didn't allow her to anymore. And I watched her go through her depressions...and I tried to help her, but...*scoffs*
I don't want to end up like that. I fear it more than death because, quite frankly, I welcome death. To quote one of my favorite stories,
To die will be an awfully big adventure.
In my case, it ain't a frigging adventure. It's either a Hell or Heaven and I genuinely think I've earned some plentiful time in Hell...Overall, I'd rather dream of death than being overweight. That is how severely...I don't want to use the word, but scarred I am from watching my mom. And simply being aware...
Sure. As I grow up, especially as a woman, I could still gain weight. But it'd probably be a more natural weight gain than...from eating wrong and being inactive. That I can deal with. So it's not about being thin. It's about being healthy.
So how can I be sure this is a healthy weight gain based upon the fact that I've only gained this weight within a week's time on a diet like that? Especially amiss the fact that I walk from my house to the library and back every day, even on the weekends. I don't even know what that distance is, but it's a lot. And that doesn't even count the times I might just walk around town...
Based on all I've told you, even I think I have a good reason to be at least a little bit panicked. I'm a woman, damnit, I have a right to be a bit vain. Not to mention it IS my body. But nervous breakdown-worthy?
...Pathetic...
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