Sunday Post

I usually take Sunday off, but since Monday's post is about movies and nothing at all about how this weekend has been for me, I just wanted to get some stuff off my chest. This blog is like my journal and I want it to represent the good AND the bad. Today's will be the bad.

I have spent the last two days erupting in to random crying fits. It all started when my boyfriend took pics of me yesterday morning for a project I'm going to be doing, sending my baby blue furry coat around the country a la Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I always have a hard time having my picture taken, but I much prefer candid shots. Posing for pictures is really hard for me, because I know I'm not going to like what I see for the most part. I see myself as a spunky, vivacious gal full of life. I photograph most of the time as an ugly fat girl. The girl I saw in the viewfinder made me cry. I was able to hold it in 'til the boyfriend left a few hours after taking the pictures, but the thought of them has been making me cry all weekend. I'm even crying again right now. He showed me those pictures and I could stand 2 out of 10 of them. The rest I wanted to scream, "That is not me! I do not feel like I have that belly! I do not feel like I have that chin!" But I must, right? It's a camera, not a carnival mirror.

What makes me the most sad about it is I always think when I'm out people must see me how I see myself: a funny gal with a glow to her who has the knack for bringing a smile to people's faces. The girl who can do an hour workout with a 20 pound kettlebell and 15 pound barbells. The lady who fought through a lot and now is well on her way to actually having her shit together. But when I see the pics all I think is: is this how people really see me? The gut and the hangy chin and the sausage fingers? I know it's my perception, which I fear will never be healthy. Even when I WAS that super cute girl, I never appreciated it like I appreciate myself now. Why did I hate the soccer player with the muscly legs so? Why did it take so much work for me to get comfortable in the skin I'm in, then one thing can turn it all around even if only for a day or two, and make me hate myself with a vigor that scares me?

I know this will pass. I know that it has way more to do with the fact that life is going well and there's that sick part of me that doesn't think I deserve it. But right now I just want to curl up in a ball and punch myself in the face so that I can feel something other than this sadness.

I also feel horrible because how unfair is it that I have a boyfriend, who's a photographer, who I can barely allow to point his camera at me? The part I left out about the SF trip was him pulling his camera out when I was in the motel bed, and me flipping him off and hiding under the covers because I didn't want him to take my picture. He has so many ideas for photo shoots he wants to do with me. He finds me attractive. I've told him, "Yes, let's do that!" but I am so afraid when I actually do, I'll feel like this again.

I am working so hard to just accept that this is how I look. I don't want to be a 70 year old woman who says, "I was so cute in my 30s" as I am the 37 year old who says, "I was so cute in my 20s." I want to feel that way now, dammit! Truth be told, sometimes I do. Just not today. Most of the time I feel like I look like this. I like this Melanie.

I realize you can see my bra. I don't crop or photoshop pics. Plus, I'm hella classy so a bra showing kinda fits.

This is what I REALLY look like every day. I like this Melanie too. She has a fuller face, and a weird chin going on, but she's okay. I don't need to cry over her anymore. Not to say I won't, but I know I don't need to.

I make kissy faces at the cats. I can totally admit that.

I didn't want to let this pass and write a post tomorrow about movies. I want this blog to be an honest portrayal of me. A journal of sorts. I need to not be afraid to post when I feel like crap. Today, for the moment, I feel like crap.