How do you handle stress? I used to thrive in the workplace that seemed to be going under at any minute — all the activity, the busyness, the get ‘er done. Now? I am cowering at the idea of not finishing a project, ready to run from the office screaming if I haven’t finished something by a promised deadline.
I’m usually a stress non-eater, but lately, that’s been changing.
Remember this post from 2013? I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. In it I lamented being thin. In the four years since writing that, I’ve gained about 15 pounds. My clothes don’t fit. I’m going up sizes at stores I’ve shopped at since my early 20s. I’m both enjoying and hating it. I’m enjoying it because I still often feel like I’m pretending to be a woman because I’m not curvier. I’m hating it because the weight isn’t going where I want it to and because I sometimes don’t pay attention and my girls’ tinier-butted underwear gets mixed in with mine and when I can’t get them on I get mad because did I get bigger overnight? No, you’re just a dumbdumb. Take off your kid’s drawers.
It’s interesting, this slow progression of how I feel about gaining weight, how I was so determined and then eventually started shouting, “NO!” It’s not listening.
I started riding my bike to and from work a few times back in the summer in an attempt to be healthier overall, but to ultimately get a hold on what I considered Facegate: The Continued Efforts of My Face to Balloon Out. Oh, sure, people say they can’t see it, but I can see it, so just agree with me and let me try to reverse the root someone has obviously put on me. I wonder if someone has a voodoo doll of me. I’m generally a nice person, but who knows how others feel. There could be some ridiculously jealous person who is inserting a tire pump into the face of doll me and injecting air.
Oh, shut up; I know it’s what I eat and drink because Facegate is also, strangely, (insert ominous music) Stomachgate.
I enjoyed riding the bike, but I didn’t do it as often as one would think to show that I liked it. It was so freeing and I loved how people considered it edgy. Um, it’s just seven miles one way and mostly downhill in the morning, but OK. I’ll take your kudos because that downhill switches to uphill come time to return and the last hill is menacing as hell. I used to hear voices whisper from the woods: you’re never going to make it up that hill. Throw the bike into traffic and go eat some fries.
I stopped riding because I convinced myself it was getting too cold (that was true, just not when I started telling myself it was true). I am making other healthier choices, though, and I hope to start some sort of exercise class soon. I can’t wait for Face and Stomachgates: The Reversal.
I refuse to buy new pants.