truelove's ramblings

(they haven't arrived yet, but soon they shall. *rubs hands together in gleeful, villainish fashion* my pretties!)

So having tackled my closet, washed everything, and pulled out the stuff that I can't or won't wear anymore (I still need to take stuff to Goodwill and/or consignment stores but they're all sorted at least), I went on to cleaning the rest of the bedroom. That was basically today's project.

I got everything tidied, the surfaces wiped down, and the floors cleaned. I didn't get the bathroom cleaned except for the floors getting a basic swipedown. I am totally wrung out and exhausted and I'll probably have to medicate heavily tomorrow if I end up getting called in to work.

Once upon a time I could blitz clean an entire house in a DAY. Including a bit of tidying, yes. I'd be totally, utterly trashed after, but the entire HOUSE would be clean. And the next day I'd be a bit sore and achy and that was it.

Then it was, I couldn't do more than a couple of rooms. And now it's, I can completely clean a single room and that's my sheer end-of-the-line physical limit.

That's disability for you: your physical limits change. And they keep changing. And all you can do is learn to adapt and work around it; you can't fix it, you can't get back to Where You Once Were.

If I don't get called in to work, I'll clean the bathroom tomorrow. That'll be My Project, because after today, I won't have enough energy tomorrow to do more than that and be able to do anything *else*.

At least the bedroom is now clean! I need to find myself a nice rug or a mat so I can meditate down there.

Reading through some fat-positive and body acceptance related blogs right now. Stumbled over into that part of the blogosphere via a link to this lady's blog and found myself particularly enamoured of this post addressing the bullshit statistics of obesity, along with helpful photographic illustrations.

Having a lot of thoughts, not least of which is: jesus christ the unhealthy messages are embedded so fucking deeply in our culture. I actually really like how my body looks lately, and I keep going "...but I could stand to lose some weight, really," and then stopping and listening to myself and wanting to shoot myself.

When I was a teenager I was very thin; thin enough people commented on it. I had trouble staying warm, it hurt to sit on hard seats. (Well, it still does, but for different reasons.) Even when I was 16, and quit gymnastics I was still quite slender. I thought weighing yourself was bullshit, too, because I weighed 140 and people still thought I was on the thin side and chronically under-guessed my weight at least 20, if not 30 pounds.

Then puberty finished hitting me upside the head, ages 16-18, and I had a hell of a rack which in all honesty is probably where most of the 10 lbs I gained after quitting gymnastics went. I was still pretty damn slender, though. When I moved when I was 18, I gained weight again. Stress, I am sure, and probably my body filling out that last little bit.

I remember when I was thinner and stepping on the scale was a pure curiousity and I didn't give a shit whatsoever what I ate. And -- mostly I've kept that. Except how I haven't. Now I think about diets and have to actively reject that kind of thinking. Now I think about how much bullshit the BMI is in a very personal, and not abstract way.

And, you know, I think so much of it has to do with clothing and fashion. I managed not to give a shit much one way or the other when I could find clothing that fit me. But these days? Clothing and clothes-shopping tells me, you are too fat, too busty, too curvy, too hour-glassed. Too too. Stay home and hide yourself, there's nothing for you here.

And it's just about impossible not to start internalising that shit.

I've been struggling with myself to not worry about my weight, about dieting, about being slender and perfect, for my cosplay for Club Vivid at vividcon this year. I'm cosplaying T'Pol and, and -- god knows, I know, that everyone there isn't going to give a shit that I'm probably at least fifty pounds heavier than Blalock. Except maybe me. And I'm working on that.

Right now my project is: eat healthy, nutritious foods (you know, all the ones that I actually do love), and eat at the right times. And eat enough protein. Because my energy levels are a hell of a lot more important than some fucking meaningless number.