The Opposite Force To Gravitational Pull...

Weight – or is it mass? I never quite remember which is the opposite force to gravity and which is actually the measurement of me, myself and my flab. Yes, this blog post is about my weight and how I’m actually okay with it. I’ve only realised this recently, maybe ever since I got some clothes that I really like and are quite ‘fashionable’ but its also been a long time coming.

I like food. I like chocolate – and cake, and cookies, and biscuits, and all other addictive sweet foods. I also like fancy crisps, pizza, chinese food, indian food and all of the other delectable savoury foods that clog up your arteries. But I love fresh fruit, veg and healthy food as well. I enjoy a well-rounded diet. Ridiculously I usually eat 1000-1500kcals a day (which to all in the know, understand that that is a low amount of kcals).

Yes I actually do have a glandular problem. I have the dreaded Underactive Thyroid. Was diagnosed when I was thirteen – I had stopped growing upwards oh and had a fat ass lump on my throat (Goitre), which I still have now… I am on an average/slightly above average dose of levothyroxine which I always forget to take… and guess what – I AM NOT OBESE. Any obese person who blames an underactive thyroid – tell them to piss off and stop eating so much shit and laying in bed all day. I don’t take my tablets and I’m not obese and I rarely exercise more than the occasional jog and horse ride (which is actually knackering if you focus on trotting for about an hour!)

I’m 5ft 5(ish) and an average size 14 – sometimes a 12, sometimes I push a 16 – depends on the shop and the clothes themselves, I have learnt to not care about sizing as some places sell clothes that couldn’t fit a toddler and label them size 18! I have the coveted hourglass figure (not that I enjoy this, I find dressing to look slim is really hard when your figure demands you have chunky thighs, hips and upper half – yes I do have a nice curve to my waist but in all honesty I just feel it makes me look bigger).

Oh how much I have longed for the skinny, ‘heroin chic’ figure and even though this blog is about my acceptance of my body I know I will have one of those bad days where you just curse every inch of your flesh and I will long, again, to be super skinny.

However for now I am okay with what I have. Yes so I am bigger than some girls but I’m not that unfit, I am fit enough to do what I want with my life (I can stay on a bucking, mental horse with ease physically – mentally I’m bricking it, but physically I don’t shift) and I never find girls who are super toned that desirable anyway – girls are meant to be soft, that is my one slightly sexist view on the world. When in underwear I appreciate my figure the most – the curves, waist and distribution is much nicer out of clothes than in them.

This isn’t to say all my insecurities are gone. Far from it. Physically my body is flawed with stretch marks due to my thyroid (when I got put on medication I had some pretty drastic growth spurts) which will never go away. I have a really red complexion which I hate, I also have terrible teeth positioning and my lips are tiny and give the constant look of puffy cheeks. All in all, some days I really hate how I look. Other days – when I am able to get my eyeliner just right – I think I look OK.

The only thing I want in life with regards to how I look, is to feel that someone thinks I am beautiful – even if I am not. I am a hopeless romantic. I want that stunning guy to sweep me off my feet, that all consuming, passionate love – the epic romance – where all love songs feel like they were written about us. I’ve known people who have had this, it isn’t impossible… at least I hope not. Life without love seems pretty pointless to be honest, but lets not get too morbid again.

The problem is that fashion dictates women should be should be super skinny or they are not attractive. So even if I am okay with how I look, I doubt any guys will deem it worthy of their attention when they have the easy, skinny, blonde, insecure, large breasted, floozies to clamber into bed with. Or maybe many guys do, but those guys aren’t the guys I find attractive. It is a very complicated notion, finding someone to be with when you aren’t the beautiful girl with bags of confidence. Sigh.

But let us end on a happy note… I’m good with my body even if no one else is. Well, that’s happy enough for me =]

Biggest Fear

My Biggest Fear

My biggest fear is Death. I say fear only for lack of a better word. Death does make me feel sick to the pit of my stomach if I put too much thought into the concept, and it sends shivers down my spine and makes me tremble. But it isn’t a true fear, or maybe it is and my concept of fear is just warped by my reaction to spiders – my one (obvious) phobia. 

When I am startled by the presence of a spider, say someone points one of the nasty little buggers out to me, I pelt out of the room squawking like a bird that has just had its feathers ripped out and either hide behind a wall or scramble on to higher ground (i.e. the stairs, the sofa or my bed). I prefer the higher ground approach as most spiders dash under things and not up things, and it gives me a better scope of the area as well putting me in a better position to leap out of the way (and over the spider) if need be.

My reaction to Death is a lot less obvious. I guess that is because Death is a lot less obvious. You only ever truly face Death once and no one ever wins that battle, if you have a "near-death experience" then Death wasn’t truly after you. Death always wins. But when the concept of death crops up in conversation or pushes itself to the front of my mind I find myself suddenly feeling sick and the instinct to run away definitely pokes out its head. 

I see myself as a spiritual person, not religious – I am more agnostic when it comes to religion – but definitely spiritual. I tell myself I believe in souls, spirits and mythology but I think the honest truth is I believe that the universe is magnificently huge and humans are not special enough to have a higher power looking out for us or some greater meaning. When we die, I fear that is it. We are nothing. See nothing, feel nothing, taste nothing, think nothing – are literally gone. Consciousness only exists when tied to a living body. The worst thing is, I feel this more now than ever. Now that I have known someone close to me die.

If there was more to life, or rather more to death, then I would surely feel something? Anything… but in all honesty I feel nothing. Why would someone my age, who had barely lived their life, who had friends and family that loved her, was smart and had a good personality, who wasn’t some huge risk taker or impulsive personality just suddenly get some mysterious illness and die. What God would do that, what higher meaning is there that makes this ok? I wish I could convince myself that her soul had outlived that body and she had moved on but it just feels wrong. All of my beliefs feel wrong, my reasons for the way I live my life seem invalid and my inner thoughts seem tainted. 

I think experiencing death so close to home has made the last parts of my mind that clung on to hope let go, or at least their grip has slackened. I am only nineteen but I fear I am a very pessimistic person, with little faith in humanity and little trust in the ideas that "everything happens for a reason" and "things will work themselves out in the end". Why should everything sort itself out? Why is their more fish in the sea? What makes it impossible for me to die without finding love? Why will I always land on my feet? These things aren't set in stone, they don't magically sort themselves out - why am I so special that no matter what happens, everything will be okay?  


I wish I was an optimist. I wish I had it in me to think 'everything will sort itself out' but the slightest chance that these thoughts could survive even at the back of my mind seems to have been diminished with the death of my housemate. I feel it is an injustice to her memory to think like that, because why should it all work out for me when it didn't for her? This is one of my darkest moments. A huge chunk of me wants to just give up and let life pass me by, a smaller chunk is kicking me up the backside telling me not to waste what little time I have left - for it could only be a day. I am feeling myself slip over the edge of not caring. What does it matter? My life has had many misfortunes in it up until this point, is it really heading for some huge turn around? But I do have some hope that this is just the dramatic part of my mind that conjures up characters and stories and crazy ideas, and it is just wounded from the loss of a good friend, and is taking it out on my rational mind - blurring the edges. 


My biggest fear may not be Death after all - what is even more frightening than Death is that this pessimistic, un-spiritual, unmotivated part of me might be who I really am and have always been.