Editing a dissertation chapter and hoping to find a way to procure Wasabi Funyuns via the internets.
I changed the theme because it’s spring and I’ve been reading and thinking too much about death and grief, my heart aching and breaking for people I’ve met and whom I’ve not and I just need some brightness. And since the Funyuns are currently out of my grasp, I figured I’d change the look of the blog.
I went for a swim this afternoon in the lap pool at the U. Today was the first time since I’ve been swimming there that I felt self-conscious about my body — I’ve gained a little bit of weight and have reverted back to some of my bad eating habits (and developed new ones, like eating trashy candy bars! Awesome!), and since we’re ramping up to bikini and banana hammock season, the flesh parade at the pool is a bit more intimidating than before.
I was telling Matt tonight that I hated getting out of the pool because I was surrounded by all of these young men with these cut swimmers’ bodies and the tight little Speedos and perfect little tushies. “Why are you comparing your body to those guys’?” he asked. And it’s not that I’m comparing my body to theirs, that would be dumb. It’s more like, I can feel them judging me, with their 5 percent body fat and hummingbird-like metabolisms. All they have to do is look at me with my pot belly and jiggly thighs and I can almost hear them dismissing my humanity as just another fat chick. It makes me feel small, but not in a good way.
It didn’t help that I was in line behind a (pro? college?) volleyball player at Starbucks this morning, all six feet and thick blonde hair and tan legs up to there and short shorts of her. She tried to order a venti Frappuccino, but they had no mix, so she got something equally venti and fattening and sugary, plus an espresso brownie. So, I beat her to death with her braid.
I didn’t mean to be so grumpy here tonight. Guess I’m just in a mood. Time for bed and some rest.