Thursday, October 18, 2007

Poor poor pitiful me

While I was at my parents house last weekend I went up to my room to look for something (what, I cannot remember). I found this picture of me and my sister from the eighties, probably 1985. Aside from the ginormous hair and prominent shoulder pads, I didn't look half bad. I was skinny. It really kind of took my breath away because even though the person in the photo was obviously me, I really couldn't identify with that person. I can tell you with strong conviction that although I was slim and trim, I am certain I was not feeling that way. I cannot ever remember a time that I felt 'skinny', except for maybe two weeks in eight grade when I dabbled with anorexia, and even then, well, it was eight grade, how much self realization do you do then? I couldn't even look at that picture. I put it back on my dusty dresser and left the room. Back at home I was trying in vain to organize all of the papers slapped on the side of my fridge and I took a good look at one of the pics I had of me and hubs (before we were united in holy matrimony)from around 7 years ago. Of course I was smiling, had well maintained blonde highlights and a nice funky outfit which probably came from a junior department somewhere. It's like another person in that photo. Someone looking back at me that again, I cannot even relate to. I also can confirm that I was struggling with weight and feeling like a big fat slob. I wish I could reach back into that picture and give myself a little shake, or perhaps a slight slap on the face. "Stop doing that" I would say. "Be happy with yourself-stop thinking that you are fat, you have no idea what fat really is, but you soon will, so enjoy that bod while it lasts".Of course now, if I see a picture of myself in the present moment, although that's slightly impossible because there are not many of me, I am utterly dumbfounded at what happened to me. My big fear now is that in ten years I will look at a picture of myself and think "why the hell didn't I do anything about this?".

Recently I got pulled over by a cop. I got busted talking on my cell phone. Actually I got busted holding up a cell phone to my ear, because as soon as I saw there was a cop around, I put the phone down. But it was too late for formalities. So the cop pulled me over, but there was something weird about it. It was like he was teetering on that fine line of giving me a 'stern warning' or taking the plunge and writing the damn ticket. A little hesitation. Whatever the hell kind of test it was, I failed because he took one look at me, and said 'I pulled you over because you were on your cell phone", took my licence and stuff and went off into his vehicle to write the ticket. I was sitting there for like an eternity and I couldn't help but think that ten years ago, this would not be happening. Ten years ago I would have been in my jeep wrangler with my blonde hair and cute clothes and I would have just gotten a speech and sent on my way. I was sitting there with a broken toe, schleppy sweat pants from target and a frumpy t shirt (and it was on a saturday night). To make matters worse I started feeling sorry for myself and I started to cry. Ugh. Could I be any more pathetic? My son was in the back seat saying 'don't cry mommy' which of course made me cry even more. I was so insulted.
Needless to say, I never talk on my cell phone while I am driving. I keep meaning to get a bluetooth thingy.

3 comments:

Vanessa said...

I read your post and have to say that it may not be the weight that you no longer identify with, but the person you have become since having a child. I'm a size zero and I look at pics of me before my daughter and think "I should have appreciated myself more, who is that carefee girl?"

mommakitten said...

you are probably right. I was talking about this with my friend last night and we were both 'annoyed' at our younger selves for not appreciating our lives. Not that I don't appreciate mine now, I do, it's just way different.

Jaws said...

Its universal.
Try to focus on being comfortable in your own skin. Weight is just a number.