Saturday, August 30, 2008
I’m looking at the (woo)man in the mirror
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life
No one on this planet spends more time in a mirror than me right now. I don't care how narcissistic a person might be I could do a stare off (of myself) and win hands down! I'd even throw down with the Chicks "Next Door" - that's right, bring it bitches!!
Why am I checking myself out so much? It's not vanity that's fo shore. I just find everytime I breeze by a mirror it is an opportunity to try as hard as I can to check for any kind of change or progress. When you go through a process like this you get caught in your own vision of your body. Just like its impossible to ever heard your own true voice- cuz when you hear a recording you are so busy going "I don't sound like that!" you never can clearly hear yourself it's impossible for me to see what you would see when you see me.
I walk into the bathroom and stare at my face. Left profile...perhaps a bit more cheek bone showing?? Right profile....what is the flat looking spot under my eyes? Front view....still have a chin or two to get rid of don't we?? Then I have this weird habit of throwing up my shirt "Girls Gone Wild" style and checking out the belly. First my poor shrinking ta-ta's....totally revising my thoughts on plastic surgery. (I am totally getting implants and a tummy tuck when this is over.) My chest should not suffer just because of a diet. What's that right under the bust line....could it be the peekings of a rib cage? I can feel it getting closer to the surface...yeah! Oh, but look what's beneath it...still a big marshmellowy fishbelly white tummy. And at the bottom? The big mocking grin of a roll that makes up the lower portion of my gut. Mmmm sexxy. When one looks at their belly it should not smile back at you! I do see some wrinkly areas where there is clearly some loss and while this is good I just fast forward to having a whole belly of nothing but puffy and wrinkly skin.
Then I glance at my thighs. I have been wearing "compression shorts" (aka bike shorts) to keep things sucked in at night and while I bought a pair of Spanx for the day I have not had the stones to wear them all day. Something about a split crotch that just does not scream "business day wear". So in the upright and locked position my little heart lifts to see the glimmer of a thigh appear...and below it maybe just a hint of a "normal" kneecap. But then I sit down, and like a squished jellyfish my thigh fat oozes all over and looks just like 2 stand-ins for Jabba the Hut. Of course we don't look any further down my legs because of the wraps which make my legs appear to be at least 2x's as big as they are...but no ones sees that anyway so what does it matter? I also really wonder how much scarring and damage will be done to the skin on my legs long-term. Skirts and dresses may never be in my future again...
Snapping up to the top of my body I then assume the "on the cross" pose and examine my arm flaps. I never ever see any change here and fear I will always have this slab of meat hanging off my arms. On the upside I feel it would make a great weapon. I could just swing and take out a bad guy with a soild ::thwack:: of my arm fat. So I got that going for me...which is nice. I always think of hanging meat in a butcher shop when I look at my arms. Just hanging there all jiggly. I have a little less "hang-age" from my forearm but always think I have the extra fat there that some people have on their upper arms. Grrrrr-8!
I finish by re-scanning my face juuuuust in case there was any change since I looked 20 seconds ago....nope. Damn! Well maybe it will look different in my little mirror I keep in my desk.......
I’m looking at the (woo)man in the mirror
Current mood: contemplative
Category: Life
No one on this planet spends more time in a mirror than me right now. I don't care how narcissistic a person might be I could do a stare off (of myself) and win hands down! I'd even throw down with the Chicks "Next Door" - that's right, bring it bitches!!
Why am I checking myself out so much? It's not vanity that's fo shore. I just find everytime I breeze by a mirror it is an opportunity to try as hard as I can to check for any kind of change or progress. When you go through a process like this you get caught in your own vision of your body. Just like its impossible to ever heard your own true voice- cuz when you hear a recording you are so busy going "I don't sound like that!" you never can clearly hear yourself it's impossible for me to see what you would see when you see me.
I walk into the bathroom and stare at my face. Left profile...perhaps a bit more cheek bone showing?? Right profile....what is the flat looking spot under my eyes? Front view....still have a chin or two to get rid of don't we?? Then I have this weird habit of throwing up my shirt "Girls Gone Wild" style and checking out the belly. First my poor shrinking ta-ta's....totally revising my thoughts on plastic surgery. (I am totally getting implants and a tummy tuck when this is over.) My chest should not suffer just because of a diet. What's that right under the bust line....could it be the peekings of a rib cage? I can feel it getting closer to the surface...yeah! Oh, but look what's beneath it...still a big marshmellowy fishbelly white tummy. And at the bottom? The big mocking grin of a roll that makes up the lower portion of my gut. Mmmm sexxy. When one looks at their belly it should not smile back at you! I do see some wrinkly areas where there is clearly some loss and while this is good I just fast forward to having a whole belly of nothing but puffy and wrinkly skin.
Then I glance at my thighs. I have been wearing "compression shorts" (aka bike shorts) to keep things sucked in at night and while I bought a pair of Spanx for the day I have not had the stones to wear them all day. Something about a split crotch that just does not scream "business day wear". So in the upright and locked position my little heart lifts to see the glimmer of a thigh appear...and below it maybe just a hint of a "normal" kneecap. But then I sit down, and like a squished jellyfish my thigh fat oozes all over and looks just like 2 stand-ins for Jabba the Hut. Of course we don't look any further down my legs because of the wraps which make my legs appear to be at least 2x's as big as they are...but no ones sees that anyway so what does it matter? I also really wonder how much scarring and damage will be done to the skin on my legs long-term. Skirts and dresses may never be in my future again...
Snapping up to the top of my body I then assume the "on the cross" pose and examine my arm flaps. I never ever see any change here and fear I will always have this slab of meat hanging off my arms. On the upside I feel it would make a great weapon. I could just swing and take out a bad guy with a soild ::thwack:: of my arm fat. So I got that going for me...which is nice. I always think of hanging meat in a butcher shop when I look at my arms. Just hanging there all jiggly. I have a little less "hang-age" from my forearm but always think I have the extra fat there that some people have on their upper arms. Grrrrr-8!
I finish by re-scanning my face juuuuust in case there was any change since I looked 20 seconds ago....nope. Damn! Well maybe it will look different in my little mirror I keep in my desk.......
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