I forgot today was Saturday. People are probably out doing stuff. We should be, too.
We should go to the beach. But I wouldn’t take my clothes off right now, because I’m self-conscious, and I’d roast.
I know. Who cares? Nobody’s paying attention to me, anyway. But I am. Always.
I hated seeing my mother’s side of the family last summer because of how much weight I’d gained, and I think I’m heavier now than I was, then.
My Aunt Karen on my dad’s side used to be heavier before, and in the last, oh…ten years or so? She lost a lot of weight and now she’s skinny. She said she’d never go back. I don’t remember her ever being all that heavy, but now she is super skinny. I want to be there! I want to be with Aunt Karen and never go back.
I’m short and small-boned, so a little extra goes a long way on me. And right now I feel like I have a lot extra on my tiny frame.
I hate that I harp so obsessively on this subject, and I’m sure you do, too. But I feel angry and frustrated at myself for failing so hard. I was really starting to look good. I even lost weight during the holidays!
I was cute, pretty. I’m not anything anymore. Is that a terrible thing to say? Probably. I’m sorry. It’s how I’m feeling.
Intellectually I know there’s much more to me than my pants size. There’s my shoe size, too.
No, but really. I mean, I could list off all the things even I can see are good. I’m not going to, though. It still feels like bragging to me. Okay, well here’s just one. I think I am a good mother. I don’t always feel that way, but mostly, I think I am.
I can write. I’m creative.
Okay, well I lied about not listing good qualities, so I guess honesty is not my strongest suit. But I’m kind of funny sometimes. I hope.
Obviously I lack self-confidence. I can’t even say three nice things about myself without 100 caveats about how I’m not sure they’re true.
I’m a hot mess, aren’t I. But you still love me.