Before (hopefully)

this is me at my most vulnerable. here it/i is/am.

i dont wear tight clothes; in fact i turned what used to be slovenly attempts to cover up my body around the skinny girls i went to school with into a funky, bohemian chic look i’m known and praised for.

still, i am both fashion-conscious and self-conscious: i pick trendy items that first and foremost cover up:
“mmm, this shirt is only 25″ down, that won’t cover up my hips enough.”
“o no, that only comes to my waist and its summer, i can’t have my ass on display.”
“this is too clingy, i don’t want my rolls to visibly jiggle when i walk.”
“this color is pretty but too light, dark colors will make me look smaller.”
“above the knee, skirt, phshaw! my knees are too fat!”

i am 5 foot 3 1/4 inches. i weigh 151 pounds. i am 10 pounds over my height/weight range of 107 to 141. my BMI is 27, 2 points over the limit.

when i was diagnosed with MS last year i told myself i was no longer going to hate this body of mine. ever since i was 11 i was uncomfortable in my own flesh, hating it, morphing it, taking pills, running too hard, regurgitating all just to get out of this body. and then i’m told my body is destroying itself. my brain has difficulties communicating to my body. there are scars on my brain. all that foolish angst perhaps pushed my own body to begin to eat away at itself. so i resolved to no longer fight this body i’m in. i can’t exist as if i live in a cage.

but sometimes (sh)it happens. i still dress hippie-ish, but i occasionally live on the wild side and wear a shorter dress or skinny jeans (with loose tops!).

i’ve always worked out off and on. my eating habits weren’t always the best but over the past two years i eat pretty healthily. i could definitely lay off the booze units, but my best attempt so far has been to stick to the vino.

this past winter and spring i worked out more, ate even better and lost some weight i’d oddly enough put on over the summer. people noticed, people praised, i obliged. i met boys and got naked with them (no slut)*. i began to like myself in the shower; and take longer periods to get dressed.

so that’s why when a boy told me he turns off the lights to “get used to” me physically because i’m fat, i have had somewhat of a relapse.

ive never met his friends but he tells them i am fat or big. or they tell him that and he obliges, i don’t know and he won’t go there anymore. and maybe that’s fine – it’s okay to find your partner lacking or gorging in certain features. but it’s something else altogether to turn off the lights so one can fuck.

i’m not like most of the women he dates. ok, i get that. but if he’s not attracted to my type, then he has no business humoring me as if he was. we all have our likes and dislikes and we stick to ‘em.

i think the boy deserves a teeny tiny bit of leeway: for perhaps he saw me as big because that is how i present myself by covering up. still, i told the boy it’d be okay if he found me to be a fat girl. but it’s not ok to treat me like the fat girl.

funnily enough, i’ve been on a diet while all this went down. and now, (i know, it’s sad; don’t let him get to you, yada yada) i’m on one hardcore.

i did the right thing, i ended it with the boy. dignity’s a cold companion but at least i wouldn’t feel like shit all the time with him.

still, my diet plan instructs to take “before” pics so i can note any changes, if at all, in my body over the weeks. so here is my before, here is me, here is the fat girl who can’t be touched with the lights on.

FYI: the boy mentioned once that my blog title referred to my panty size. Gasp! – Heavens No: it refers to the phrase quoted right below the title and refers to manning up and grabbing life by the horns, so to speak. that said, i do feel my panties are for big girls meaning that they no longer have the dates of the week on them.

*i’m trying to introduce “no slut” in the “no-homo” vein, so just go with me here…..