Drankin'

Yesterday, I managed, somehow, to not only eat a quarter of a bag of cheese curds but also keep my calorie count under 1,000 by the end of my day. Insane, right? Well, I decided I was lonely, and that I wanted beer. I had 6 beers total that night, and goddamn it, that's like almost 900 calories right there. I swear I've got to be that self-saboteur my mom kept telling me I was.

"The 15 Steps to Taking Control of Your Life" or Holy shit, I actually worked out at 6am.

I actually woke up at 6 muthafuggin AM to work out. This has never happened in my adult life before. Hopefully we can make this regular.

I saw the sun positioned in my line of sight. That's right. Sunrise. Saw it! That's not I thing I usually like, but it was a beautiful morning. 

I enjoyed it. Dafuq?

Well, thank goodness you're here to listen to my euphoric sunrise-virginity-just-got-shattered chatter. My poor boyfriend already heard some of it this morning, but there's only so much...

("Oh my god, boyfriend, how AWAKE I was and this is so good, and I can do this every work day for a month only for 20 minutes even if I think I can do more, no, I can't scare myself off from doing this again, etc etc etc," you get the idea.)

Poor guy never catches a break from my yammering, but he's always pretty gentile about reacting to me. He says, "that's great, but remember this was only one time." But he also gives me this down-turned, eyebrow-up look that actually seems to communicate, Sara, really? I know you're happy but wait til you actually play this through for at least a week...a month...to go on about it, for christ's sake.

Then again, I'm always misinterpreting him.

Welp, I meant all of those things I said to him this morning. You know, it's funny. I pretty much always mean what I say, but I change my mind so damn often it's hard to keep up with how I really feel about anything, who I really am. ...Which is why my boyfriend gave me the look, I know.

My life seems like one big obstacle course. When I was born, it was as if I got this body, these genetic hurdles, a biological ball pit, a pituitary mud pit, and hormonal hall of mirrors. It seems like my purpose in life, the point of it all, is to rearrange my life so that all of my mental and biological shortcomings and strengths are perfectly suited to my environment, relationships, hobbies and job. I'm working on it. 

I'm working on working out. I know it's good for me. It makes the anxiety lessen, I need less coffee (or...the coffee just makes me that much bouncier!), I feel more...cliche-ed-ly powerful. Now all I have to do is get myself to do it. 

16 Steps to Taking Control of Your Life

1) The night before, even if you're not tired, go to read in bed at 10pm. You'll fall asleep after, like, 2 pgs.

2) set alarm on NPR for 6am.

3) set cell phone alarm for 6:10am.

4) wake up at 6am to some monotone, un-alarming talking on the radio.

5) actually stir when the annoying cell alarm goes off.

6) Get up.

7) You don't even have to put on a bra. The work out room is down the hall. 

8) You lucky bitch. You don't even need underwear to work out.

9) I'm serious, get the fuck up.

10) Be nicer to yourself... Just, please, get up? You only need to go on the bike for 20 mins.

11) Stumble out of bed.

12) Fill up water bottle.

13) Grab your iPod with a good podcast like "Radiolab" or "This American Life."

13a) Haha, your boobs are jiggly.

14) Walk 1 minute to work out room.

15) Climb on board and pedal for 20 mins.

Presto. 

Life. 

Taken. 

Back.

Bitches.

Now if only I could do my job while I'm at work instead of obsess for an hour about the 20 mins I spent pedaling in place in the morning before I came here... Hahaha, one thing at a time. What do you take me for?

"You're not fat." "Well, yes. I know that."

Whenever I "feel fat" I'm going to try three things:
1) remember that fat is not a feeling
2) write here
3) wrap my fingers around my wrist and go, "whoa, my fingers touch, so that's proof I'm not fat."

First off, hi. I'm a 26 year old midwestern white gal who has been battling that nasty, internal "fat talk" for about 11 years now. Yup, you're good at math. I was about 15 when it started, or 2 years after I became a biological woman. (Yup, you're good at science, I was born a robot. Haha, no I wasn't.)

I've thought about why I think I'm fat for some time now. Most of me thinks it's because my hormones that synced my vagina into the mating game at around 15 also perked up some of my other senses. Namely, my eyes and ears. Eyes and ears are the tools of social awareness, and those are what I was using when I unhappily found out that guys "don't dig fat chicks." (Excuse the lingo, it was the 90s.) It was unfortunate for me because I'd been on the biggish side my whole life being the tallest person in my entire class of K-4th grade. Then a few people grew past me, but I'm still 5'7" and 160 lbs. That's what I was at 16 yrs old, and I'm still that today.

"OMG, GRRL, THAT IS NOT FAT" you say?

Well, yes. I know that.

But let us please define "Well," "yes," "I," "know" and "that" in the more complicated terms that they are.

Well -interjection
1. Used to begin a sentence
2. A way to begin a thought without making you feel like I'm about to say something jarring. Which I'm not. Because a girl's first priority is making everyone around her feel safe and nurtured.

Yes -sentence substitute
1.  Used to express affirmation or assent or to mark the addition of something emphasizing and amplifying a previous statement
2. Another thing us girls've gotta do is reaffirm that what you've said is rational and smart, even if we disagree.

I -pronoun
1. The nominative singular pronoun, used by a speaker in referring to himself or herself.

2. You see, this is a tricky one. "I" am the one that both knows you're right but also secretly thinks you're fucking blind and what do you know?, so a simple "I" isn't really the whole truth here.

know -verb
1. To be cognizant or aware of
2. Hahahaha. Yeah. How many people say they know something when they a.) have no clue or b.) are fucking with you because they don't care about what you're saying or c.) they want to sound  intelligent.

that -pronoun
1. fuck off, I don't even want to repeat what you're asserting (that I'm not fat) in real words, so I'll just use this dismissive, generic pronoun to both undermine your support and minimize how much it hurts to wallow in low self-esteem to you.