Today is one of those days when I just want to eat all day long. I've been doing well this whole week with the "eating only my planned meals and snacks" idea. Though I haven't really been restricting my calories, I haven't binged or even overeaten much. I think my anxiety today is due to the upcoming weekend. I'm looking forward to two days off because I've worked 13 in a row, but I wish I were going to be vegging in a chair instead of driving north with friends. We are going "up north" to a cabin on Lake Michigan tonight for the weekend with four other couples. I wish I were excited. I wish I felt happy about it. All I can think about is how fat I look. I feel grumpy and crabby and chubby.
I don't really like going to clubs, I'm a terrible dancer, I don't really drink, I like to go to bed early and get up with the chickens, and I'd much rather go to a movie than a party. T loves to stay up late and drink and "party" with large groups of people. Don't get me wrong -- he's never done drugs in his life and doesn't have any addictions -- but he loves a good beer or two or three when we go out. He usually drinks enough that he doesn't feel comfortable driving home.
What I wonder though is -- do I really not like going to parties or do I only not like it when I am fat? When we first started dating, I tried. I put on the "sparkly party girl" personality and went to all of the parties we were invited to. I wasn't skinny then, but I was almost 30 lbs skinnier than I am now. After we had R, I felt even less like going to bars and parties, but I encouraged him to go without me. It was so bad that his coworkers teased him that I only existed in the picture in his wallet. Was it all insecurity about my weight or was part of it just me? Am I really a shy introvert or am I just self conscious about my body. It's hard to separate the two because I've been insecure about my weight since I was 15.
When my husband and I were separated, I hardly ate and lost a bunch of weight very quickly. I started doing aerobics again and lost even more. I was a size 8, then a size 6. I was desperate to save my marriage. I started going to every single party and concert and get together we were invited to. I drank vodka and diet coke at a Kid Rock concert and "flashed" because T jokingly suggested it. I ingratiated myself with all of his coworkers and their wives. I organized group outings to see the local improv group, to go out to dinner, and to go to see Tina and Tony's Wedding (which was HILARIOUS, BTW). I danced at all of his coworkers' weddings and called up all of the deputies' wives for "girls night out". I was "super outgoing wife" supreme. Was it me? Well, no. I was forcing myself to do it. However, I had a great time most of the time. I felt sexy, confident, and popular.
Even after we got back together, we kept up a busy social life, albeit not at the same breakneck pace. Then I broke my leg. We still went to some weddings and other outings. I even went to a wedding using a walker and didn't feel too embarrassed. Then I gained forty pounds. I am again in hermit mode, ashamed of my weight gain and ashamed of my body. We still go do things we're invited to do, but I haven't organized anything in ages. I know it's silly. I know that if these people really like me, they'll like me whether I weigh 136 or 178. I still feel like hiding in my house.
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