what I have come to terms with...

(Part 1: Body Image)
I have been trying to lose weight ever since I became conscious of my own body, which was late in comparison to other girls. My childhood was just spent with boys, and they never talked about it, so why would it ever have occurred to me? Though maybe I should have noticed when I was always stuck playing goalie because I was a little bigger. But I was pretty oblivious (because soccer was too much fun!). Anyway, middle school and high school was a nightmare, and I think some grotesque faces I encountered in the halls made me shy away from make-up, or at least it seemed unnecessary to distort one's countenance with bright blue and green. And I grew contemptuous of mini-skirts and tank-tops, though I didn't really understand or reason out why.

Back then, I think I was quite baffled -- how were the other girls in my class getting a lot of attention from boys, while I had a hard time making friends with those same boys, which was something that came easily in elementary school (I mean I didn't want a boyfriend at all when I was a teenager -- it was just something I noticed). But it was something that really bothered me. I guess I was just not conscious of the obvious: boys have EYES -- retina, corneas, lenses, and a brain to interpret those images and a sense of judgment to approve (strongly disapprove, or ignored, the latter two which applies to the me)! For some reason after high school, I became keen on salads (they tasted very good), and I got a new haircut because my sister was brave enough to ask -- so instead of my hair being tied back in an eternal pony tail, it was free to cross my shoulders and my forehead (it was awesome). I lost some weight (by accident), and I looked different. It was really weird.

So in college, I realized that this kind of weight loss was good -- I felt like I had joined the spectrum of human attractiveness, though on the low end (but at least I wasn't being ignored). Then I became obsessed with losing weight because it equated to such a good feeling -- I counted calories, exercised those consumed calories, walked everywhere, ate less, etc... I just wanted to be skinny like everybody else and paid attention to (because clearly my interests and personality would not draw you in). So I became sickly for awhile... weak in spirit and body. That was when my parents started to worry and that made me lift a loose fist in the air and claim my victory with a faint whimper: 'Hey! I'm finally skinny! Hoora---y!' So then I started eating more and gained weight and then became a little sad (again).

And here I am, trying to jog/step/elliptical/walk my weight gain away. At the beginning of June, my body upset me, and I could hardly run a mile without having to stop after 5 minutes. Through all these blisters, bruises and nasty toe nails, I've learned how to work hard for something and get some results (though I've been eating more, curse my mom's fantastic cooking!). But point is, I can run 3-4 miles now and feel pretty good after. I may not be as skinny or as attractive as I'd like to be, but I like feeling healthy -- I keep thinking that if I was in a situation where I had to run away from a bear, I'd definitely be able to stay alive for at least an extra 20 minutes. I guess that doesn't mean I'll stop obsessing over losing weight (because I think that becomes kind of an addiction), but at least, now I don't think I really mind if the world ignores me or labels me as unattractive -- I like my friends a lot: they all have something interesting to talk about. And I think I'm losing weight the right way and for the right reasons (well, sort of). I think towards the end of this summer I can say that I'm very happy or content at least, which is a sentiment I do not use lightly.

Sorry if this entry was not very coherent... There are still some things I need to sort out -- I mean the issue of my body has not been completely resolved, but it's getting there.

And I promise my future entries won't ramble as much.