Wednesday, June 30, 2010
June 30, 2010.
I still curl my hair. I try to look as best as I can, with what I've got. Though, I'm bland in the face and round in the body. I hate looking in the mirror. I hate it. I want to break it. Lately, when I catch a glimpse of myself being happy in an outfit for just a second, I do not look in the mirror the rest of the time I am getting ready, because I know, sometime, I will figure out something that I hate about it, and change, and just get more frustrated. So when I am satisfied even for a second, I try to stay that way, so I do not end up putting myself through the agony of changing clothes, messing up my room, and eventually hating myself entirely because I can't seem to lose a single pound no matter how little I eat or how much I work out. The mirror is my worst enemy at the moment. That, and myself. Why did I do this fast again? Because I care too much about how I look? News flash: it's only getting more evident and difficult as the year goes on. I literally cannot look at myself in the mirror right now. I want to cry. And this sucks. This sucks. This sucks. Damn you, Rachel Zoe. Damn you, Sarah Michelle Gellar. Damn you, self, for being hungry, damn you, food, for being tasty. Damn damn damn.
Monday, June 28, 2010
June 28, 2010
Yeah, yeah. I suck at this. We know that. I have words saved, but it's hard to round them up and send em out when it's about this topic imparticular. Right now, what I have to say is easier. I'm struggling between two things:
and
While, it could look like my struggle is simply food vs. TV...it's mostly, food vs. looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar on TV (with her being so skinny and all). That's my current debate. Call me cliche, I'm a teenage girl who struggles with body image. Woot.
and
While, it could look like my struggle is simply food vs. TV...it's mostly, food vs. looking like Sarah Michelle Gellar on TV (with her being so skinny and all). That's my current debate. Call me cliche, I'm a teenage girl who struggles with body image. Woot.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
June 8, 2010: I think I'm cheating.
What's it say in the rulebook about clear mascara? I suppose the rulebook, really, is within my own self, and my own self feels okay about it, but also feels like I should feel like I'm cheating. I mean, all it really does is clean up these things on my eyes to make them more noticeable...but then again, I suppose that is what regular mascara does, only in a heavier way. I'm not sure. There's really no point. Cause I put it on, just to test it out, and then I saw the rest of my face and it made no difference. I was still unsatisfied. And the whole point of this is to not care so much about what I look like, right? Yet, I'm tiptoeing around rules when I was supposed to just go cold turkey. (Which I have-though I never much cared for turkey anyways). I'm fooling myself, again. It's a struggle, now. Not so much as it was in the beginning. Now it has settled in. But still a struggle. I'm finding ways to go around this "looking ugly while not wearing makeup" thing, and failing. My own eyes see one thing and that's every scar and line I so desperately chose to hide all those years before. I don't see beauty in my skin, yet. And I am not trying all that hard to get there-to that place of contentment. Instead, I am doing what I have always done, and that is whatever it takes to not look the way I do.
I have today, joined my parents in their quest to lose weight, by starving myself of all foods and joy by following the guidelines of a book called, 21 Pounds in 21 Days. Which has actually proven to work, for my folks. But day one is ending for myself, and I want to die. It doesn't help that I am reading a book where the first whole section is about a women's quest across Italy, and all she talks about is food. And it also doesn't help that I happen to be stashing a bag of pretzels within reasonable arm length, and have been secretly snacking on it in between herbal teas and berry drinks. I'm a nutcase. And the worldly simplicity of my happiness lies in complete contradiction with one another and I am overcome with confusion as to what exactly I am to do about this. I am about to tell you a secret, you invisible reader of mine. (Honestly, I'm writing to a wall, while pretending I'm writing a book worthy of all eyes and hearts). Anyhow, I'll spill this secret anyway, that I have been saying to myself for over a week now, and am at a complete loss of how to solve this issue: I find my truest happiness in eating and my purest depression in gaining weight.
So I'm left with nothing. No solution, no happy medium, and definitely no win-win. I eat, and am joyful, yet within ten minutes of finishing the meal, I look at myself, and become severely saddened by my reflection. And I have thoughts of being thin, and it brings me great comfort, so I try this, losing weight thing, yet I'm left hungry, and bitter. As I am now. And I am torn at how to fix this.
This year isn't about my appearance, right? Then again, my whole life has most often been about my appearance. And I've never been happy about it. So do I eat, joyfully, only to be kicked in the face with my own guilt and self-loathing, or do I starve myself...on this diet, ish, thing, to find out what I really would look like thin and beautiful (in my eyes), depressing myself of the very joy a simple taste gives me? And do I leave my eye lashes dull and lifeless, resting peacefully (almost invisibly) upon my eyelids, or do I awaken them abruptly with a coat of clear liquid only to satisfy the part of myself longing to be beautiful while ugly?
I'm at a loss. In all aspects. I am standing in the center of a road with two paths layed out in front of me, begging to be choosen, with the most confusing descriptions: Happiness and Depression, or Depression and Happiness. And I have been standing here so long, I finally just sit down, in the dirt, slightly teary eyes, cause I know this is going to be a tough decision. I think I'll sleep here tonight.
I have today, joined my parents in their quest to lose weight, by starving myself of all foods and joy by following the guidelines of a book called, 21 Pounds in 21 Days. Which has actually proven to work, for my folks. But day one is ending for myself, and I want to die. It doesn't help that I am reading a book where the first whole section is about a women's quest across Italy, and all she talks about is food. And it also doesn't help that I happen to be stashing a bag of pretzels within reasonable arm length, and have been secretly snacking on it in between herbal teas and berry drinks. I'm a nutcase. And the worldly simplicity of my happiness lies in complete contradiction with one another and I am overcome with confusion as to what exactly I am to do about this. I am about to tell you a secret, you invisible reader of mine. (Honestly, I'm writing to a wall, while pretending I'm writing a book worthy of all eyes and hearts). Anyhow, I'll spill this secret anyway, that I have been saying to myself for over a week now, and am at a complete loss of how to solve this issue: I find my truest happiness in eating and my purest depression in gaining weight.
So I'm left with nothing. No solution, no happy medium, and definitely no win-win. I eat, and am joyful, yet within ten minutes of finishing the meal, I look at myself, and become severely saddened by my reflection. And I have thoughts of being thin, and it brings me great comfort, so I try this, losing weight thing, yet I'm left hungry, and bitter. As I am now. And I am torn at how to fix this.
This year isn't about my appearance, right? Then again, my whole life has most often been about my appearance. And I've never been happy about it. So do I eat, joyfully, only to be kicked in the face with my own guilt and self-loathing, or do I starve myself...on this diet, ish, thing, to find out what I really would look like thin and beautiful (in my eyes), depressing myself of the very joy a simple taste gives me? And do I leave my eye lashes dull and lifeless, resting peacefully (almost invisibly) upon my eyelids, or do I awaken them abruptly with a coat of clear liquid only to satisfy the part of myself longing to be beautiful while ugly?
I'm at a loss. In all aspects. I am standing in the center of a road with two paths layed out in front of me, begging to be choosen, with the most confusing descriptions: Happiness and Depression, or Depression and Happiness. And I have been standing here so long, I finally just sit down, in the dirt, slightly teary eyes, cause I know this is going to be a tough decision. I think I'll sleep here tonight.
Monday, June 7, 2010
June 7, 2010: A Not So Successful Blog in the Midst of Continuing this "Beautiful" Year.
My angst in creating this blog to tell of the story of my year came not too long after watching the movie Julie and Julia. When I watch movies, when I read books, when I engage in a TV show, or even hear a song, I am overcome with an urgency to change my life and make it theirs. Hence, the idea in my mind was that I would write, every day, for this year, of my journey to become beautiful in an unworldly sense. I would change lives, I would wow audiences, and I would, eventually, publish a book and make a movie of my ugly story. (I mean....pretty). However, the year is 2010 and blogs are far too popular to get noticed enough to make a book of it, and I'm more of an idea girl. I rarely finish projects or complete goals. Well, in the last 18...er...19 and a half years of my life, this was so. But I do not want that to be true anymore.
Another excuse for this is that in by writing everyday I would have to face the exhausting reality of my emotions and how I really feel about myself and express that to an audience of nobody. So instead I ran. Or literally, just stopped writing.
The reality that I have to face (pun) is that, after a quick and secretly depressing five, leaking to six, months, I have yet to feel anywhere near beautiful. I miss makeup. I miss dressing up. I miss the words, "You look cute today." I don't remember, really, when I heard them last, or received them. Nothing is hidden. Everything is revealed. On my face. And I do not like it. I used to hide beneath my think mascara and rose blush and the facade that I was high fashioned and low maintenance, not caring all that much how I looked. And the other reality is that, looks are most everything to me. I adore fashion. And I overwhelmingly wish I could be apart of it. But whenever I try, I am fooling myself. And I can't wear makeup. So the look is incomplete. And I am left, again, feeling ugly.
After nearly six months, I am terrified of the possibility that in another six months, nothing will have changed, and I will be called, again, to fast from makeup. That thought terrifies me. So that sort of says it all, doesn't it.
I've simply "gotten used to" not wearing makeup. But I haven't all accepted it. And I am tempted everyday.
I am going to write in this lonely little blog of mine. For the next six months. As long as I remember. Although, I honestly doubt this town ever even gets driven through. I'll write, regardless, feeding my creative soul, and being honest with myself about what I need to change.
Six months gone, six to come. We will indeed find out if the word Beautiful makes a lasting impression on my heart, or if I'm left, unhealed and broken by what I have to look at in the mirror.
Six months.
Another excuse for this is that in by writing everyday I would have to face the exhausting reality of my emotions and how I really feel about myself and express that to an audience of nobody. So instead I ran. Or literally, just stopped writing.
The reality that I have to face (pun) is that, after a quick and secretly depressing five, leaking to six, months, I have yet to feel anywhere near beautiful. I miss makeup. I miss dressing up. I miss the words, "You look cute today." I don't remember, really, when I heard them last, or received them. Nothing is hidden. Everything is revealed. On my face. And I do not like it. I used to hide beneath my think mascara and rose blush and the facade that I was high fashioned and low maintenance, not caring all that much how I looked. And the other reality is that, looks are most everything to me. I adore fashion. And I overwhelmingly wish I could be apart of it. But whenever I try, I am fooling myself. And I can't wear makeup. So the look is incomplete. And I am left, again, feeling ugly.
After nearly six months, I am terrified of the possibility that in another six months, nothing will have changed, and I will be called, again, to fast from makeup. That thought terrifies me. So that sort of says it all, doesn't it.
I've simply "gotten used to" not wearing makeup. But I haven't all accepted it. And I am tempted everyday.
I am going to write in this lonely little blog of mine. For the next six months. As long as I remember. Although, I honestly doubt this town ever even gets driven through. I'll write, regardless, feeding my creative soul, and being honest with myself about what I need to change.
Six months gone, six to come. We will indeed find out if the word Beautiful makes a lasting impression on my heart, or if I'm left, unhealed and broken by what I have to look at in the mirror.
Six months.
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