A Mind in Recovery

Today I weighed in at 123.6.

I am perfectly fine with that.

I weighed the same on sunday, and even though it's 1.6 pounds higher than the last time, I had never been more content.

I won't say I've never been happier, because that's not true. I have been happier in the last several years of my life. For example, when I went on Space Mountain at Disneyland during Grad Nite. It was only my second trip to Disneyland, but on my first trip a year earlier I had hands-down decided that Space Mountain was without a question my favorite ride.

I remember that ride on Grad Nite as being so immensely fun that I was screaming, laughing, and crying all at all once. I remember thinking that if you could take 100% unadulterated happiness and replace all the blood in your veins with it, that's what it would feel like. There wasn't even butterflies. Maybe initially, when it was first starting up, but once the ride really got going there wasn't even room for nervous excitement. I was ecstatic emotionally, tingling and burning with plain old excitement physically, every part of my body awake. Simply alive.

I sure don't feel that way now. But I am okay with 123.6. That number is not the devil's territory anymore. Neither is 122, 121, 120, or anything north of what I last was. When that number pops up on the scale, I don't feel the shock and disgust I used to, like it was a fist punching me in the gut every time it's nasty face flashed up at me. I don't feel the usual hate towards it, the scale, or myself, or feel depressed at seeing it anymore. It doesn't scare me, it doesn't hurt me... it is just a fact, literally JUST A NUMBER, and it rolls down my back and falls off. I say, "Okay," step off the scale, shrug, forget about it, and go on with life.

Life is life now. Life isn't food and calories and carbs and fats and protein and black coffee and tea and laxatives and exercise. Life is life, with a balance of those things. Life isn't numbers on the scale, numbers on the tape measure, numbers on the tags of clothes, or letters on the tags of clothes. That's all background music. It kinda just is, it's quiet and doesn't draw a lot of attention to itself, and it's so simply a part of things and mostly goes unnoticed, that no one really cares. It just is, and it's just a fact, and it rolls down my back and falls off and I forget about it and move on.

I go back to this current day, and I write something nice and study some, then when I'm hungry I put together something new and eat it, and think, "Hm." My mind subconsciously decides if I'll want to have it again later on, and I'm already back to doing whatever.

Maybe I'll never lose weight. But that's okay. My body is getting back to normalcy, and that's my goal. I still have this excess fat, but it's doesn't look terrible and it's not the bane of my existence. I may not like it and I may sometimes feel briefly in the pits because of it, but I've learned to get past that and continue. I would be pleased to get it off, but I can live with it on. It's just not that important to me anymore.

Where I am with this, my extra fat is still for the most part a constant awareness. I still catch myself evaluating it in the mirror and pinching it routinely, sometimes without noticing because I do it ritualistically, sometimes feeling irked that it's there and that I gained some back. It's maybe 75% of what I think about. Make that 80. I still wish it was gone and want to be skinny. All that may make it seem like it's still really bad, but that's a hell of a lot better than what it used to be. Sure I still do these things, but I don't feel awful because of it. I feel like me.

I can accept myself. I can accept an extra 5 or 10 or 20 pounds of fat. I may not like it but I can accept it, and it doesn't ruin my day-to-day life anymore. I eat clean and healthy, I eat natural foods, I eat when I'm hungry, I eat enough, I stay mostly active. I'm overall a healthy girl.

If I lose the extra pounds of fat someday, that's downright dandy. I want to lose them.

And if I don't...? Oh well... I guess that's just the way it is.

A Distant Dream

Why are we all growing up so fast? We're still innocent and not ready for the trials and tribulations of life.
It's all so complicated - why can't we stay little kids forever? No responsibilities, at least other than learning and helping around the house. Let's go back to the time when we played hide and seek and invited each other into our play-houses with generosity, served our guests leaves and pokies dished up on frisbees and sprinkled with dirt.
Let's go back to when romance was something only adults and yucky teenagers had. When makeup was something we thought was gross ("I'll never wear it!") and when we thought about the opposite sex, we thought about holding hands. When us girls daydreamed about getting rescued from the neighborhood bully by our crushes who would then beat the bully up.
When the important things were bike riding, flower picking, and pokemon. When exciting news was that the ice cream truck was coming. When fights were water balloons and squirt guns in summer.
When gameboy and mario were prominent. When songs didn't have any interpretation but the surface meaning deduced by a child, when the innocent child's mind could enjoy things that had a deeper, darker meaning without ever knowing it. When we used to all have each other's backs. ("If someone attacks us, we can use our martial arts and throw our bikes at him then ride away real fast!")
When being a daredevil was riding our bikes no-handed at full speed down a steeply-sloped street.
When we were tough because we went on journeys to the wilderness area and rode bikes really fast and tripped while playing tag, and ended up with scrapes and cuts. When we lost a member of our exploration group and got overly scared for them, taking our journies so seriously. Trekking around, drinking water from broken sprinklers when we were thirsty and chewing the plants we knew were safe when we got hungry.
When we rolled in the grass, running and playing tag until we were tired and sweaty and itchy. When we used to skip dinner to play, and eat really fast when we were forced to eat so we could get back outside as soon as possible and not miss anything. When we used to explore behind our backyards. When we gave performances on our lawns and sang for our invisible audiences. When we would hide in the garage and play with stuff there. When we would play act. When we were so creative we could literally take some sticks and rocks and play with it for hours. When no one had cell phones and found their entertainment in the great outdoors and barbies.
We all want to go back to that... let's escape to the Undying lands and live with Elves and never grow up. We'll dance and listen to their beautiful bell voices and play all day and sleep as long as we need. We won't have drama and wont deal with the complications of adult-hood. Our imaginations will be real and our fears will be a distant dream.

Reading the Fellowship of the Ring and have decided that I love Tolkien and he was a genius who should not be dead because I would very much like to talk to him.

Well... you could say I am new to the Tolkien world... that would be very accurate as I just started appreciating it in November. It all started when my brother borrowed the Lord of the Rings movies from the library... I fell in love,  I realized, not long after the second movie. I decided I needed to read the books mainly because without having done so I felt I couldn't be truly appreciated as a LotR fan. I started the Fellowship for a book project, procrastinated, and had to Sparknotes my way through it. SHAME. I know. But the project ended up being 27 pages long so maybe you can forgive me for that. Have pity! I was up until 1:00 a.m. and similarly atrocious times for a week, and then proceeded to collapse and attempt to catch up on sleep (which didn't happen for the first five or so days because of unlimited internet, which is what had gotten me in trouble in the first place. Are we detecting a pattern here?) Anyway, it is now the second week of break - it is half over! Nooo! - and I just started reading the Fellowship (from where I left off) again today. Once again SHAME for not getting on it sooner. But understand that a much needed break full of things I've been wanting to do is very distracting (I hadn't played Animal Crossing: Wild World since Thanksgiving - and I absolutely ADORE Animal Crossing).
So, to the point... I want to keep a journal if I can, of my thoughts on the books I read, starting with The Fellowship of the Ring. I hope to continue from there, even after break... if I'm not too overloaded with my switch to Honors English III class for the second semester.

Wish me happy reading!

P.S. In light of the a fore mentioned fact that the genius, Tolkien is dead, I would simply like to say... "I wish Tolkien was still alive, for I much desire to speak with him."