Hajimemashita! I now have 45 followers! Yay! I feel so honoured. I haven’t really done much today except laundry and trying out a new ramen (I wasn’t impressed). I’m still loving my new phone. I miss Levi the Lime. It was a lime. I named it Levi. That’s pretty much the story.
Let’s have some real talk today. I mentioned the other day how I felt comfortable in my own skin for the first time in forever. Honestly, I think that it was the first time in ever that I felt comfortable at my weight, size, and mental health. I’m still a few points shy from being within a normal BMI range and I still have that goal of being not this fat. I don’t feel like a too stretched balloon about to pop anymore. I no longer feel like I should apologize for the simple act of existing.
Now, to be fair to all my plus-size followers, I have no issues with fat people. Okay, I don’t have issues with people just because they’re bigger. I honestly don’t. I do have issues with people who body shame and I see a lot of people are telling me off for wanting to lose 10 more pounds. 10 more pounds puts me in a good BMI range for me. I don’t like it when people use the words ‘fat’ or ‘skinny’ and follow it up with ‘bitch’. I don’t like it when people tell others to put down the fork or to go eat a burger. Other people’s bodies are none of my business unless they get all up in my space.
I want to reiterate that I have no problem with other people being whatever weight they are or want to be. I have a problem when I weigh too much. I have a problem when I can’t shop at Walmart to find decent pants or a cheap bra because I can only wear certain materials and Walmart and Target are the only stores that have the bras that I can wear without wanting to bang my head against things. I have a problem when my weight is so high that I’m considered for Weight Loss Surgery and my insurance would cover the follow up tummy tuck from it. I have a problem when I weigh so much that taking the stairs leaves me breathless and I have to buy new slippers every couple of months because my excess weight ruins the heels. I have a problem with my weight because it affects me.
I should be saying I had a problem with my weight, I guess, but that’s not entirely accurate. I still have a slight issue with my weight. I know I’m not at a healthy size. However, I look at myself and I can see the cute kid other people see. (I say kid because I act like a kid most of the time and I don’t take offense to it.) I’m not as self-conscious and ashamed of my body as I was even last month. I’m proud of that. I’m proud of the fact that I’m working hard to consume between 1000-1500 calories a day. I don’t always meet that goal and I don’t always stay within that goal. My goal is no longer weight loss, but health. I want to feel healthy. I still want to lose weight, but my diet needs to get better.
I’m not as ashamed of my spazzing as I used to be. I’m still conscientious of it and I’m painfully aware of the looks I get from people when I suddenly boop my head or mlep behhhhhp or eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee because fuck you, I am a motherfucking raptor. When I stopped trying so hard to suppress them and make them as unnoticeable as possible, I stopped having as many seizures. I know correlation does not equate causation, but there’s a pretty strong case for a connection here.
I’m trying to be more okay with my personality. I don’t pretend that I know what people are talking about all the time anymore. If someone says something that I don’t understand, I ask for clarification. Because idioms are hard and just why with all the idioms people? Seriously, just use similes because similes use ‘like’ or ‘as’ and are therefore easier to spot, although still hard to comprehend sometimes.
Even as I’m sitting here, I am rocking back and forth and side to side. The moving makes me concentrate better. I don’t feel ashamed for doing it. I feel sad. I feel sad that it’s taken me so long to accept that this is me and this is what I do. I feel sad because I know that this is me and that there’s nothing wrong with me and I accept that as a hard truth and as actual reality. I still don’t like me. I’m okay with the fact that is is me and I feel comfortable in my body. I just don’t like me. And that makes me sad. I’m awesome, so shouldn’t I like myself?
-The Sarcastic Autist