Losing Weight and My Mind

OK guys. I know I haven’t posted in a while and I’ve given all kinds of vague answers as to why, but it’s actually more than just not having time. I needed a break from my weight loss blog. I felt like it was best for my psyche. I’m not going to be vague anymore. I’m going to be really honest actually. More honest than I normally am about this stuff.

Working in New York City has always been my dream. I honestly don’t remember a time when I wasn’t striving for this. Finally getting there has made me happier in almost every aspect of my life. All aspects even, except body image.

I’ve always had a mild case of body dysmorphia. I blame being a dancer starting at age 3 and not stopping until I went away to college. Even then I took ballet classes as gym credits. I was never the skinniest in classes, but I was never the biggest either. But those days where we got measured in front of everyone for costume ordering were days that started and ended with hidden anxieties. I say it’s a mild case because it’s never driven me head first into depression and I’ve never done any harm to myself because of it, but it’s been ever present in my life since around 4th grade. It’s something I think about every day. Maybe when I’m eating, maybe when I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror or maybe just when I lose my train of thought and start to think randomly. The main focus is my weight, but other features make an appearance occasionally too.

Since starting my new job in the city, I get to see all different types of people all day. And even though my favorite is the guy in silver 8in platform boots and a purple top hat is my favorite (so far…) it’s the beautiful people that stick out in my head. There are gorgeous people every where, but New York City is where they breed. 

Every day I take a walk during my lunch break. Every day I see more beautiful people than I ever have in my life and every day my thoughts about my own body get darker and darker. It’s gotten to the point that every time I’m alone I harp on how my waist line is not where I want it to be, how I will never look good in the clothes that I wish I could wear, and how no matter what I do my stomach will always have a layer of fat on it. I think of ways that I can lose weight but I can’t motivate myself to go to the gym anymore or to prepare healthy meals. So my harping on my weight is actually making me gain weight. 

This week is Fashion Week. I’ve never gone so out of my way to avoid something before. Just knowing the city was housing even more models than usual made my stomach look 10 times larger than it is. I love fashion. I can’t afford the clothes I wish I could wear, and I know I won’t look good in them, so I tend to look like a hobo on most occasions. I wanted to go to Fashion’s Night Out festivities this year. Part of the fun of being in the city is going to big events like this. I didn’t go. I just kept imagining Anna Wintour taking one look at me and calling me fat. (in my head I’m apparently fat and apparently also meeting Anna Wintour)

I’m in a healthy BMI range, my waist line is under half my height, I usually wear between a size 6-8, yet I can’t seem to look in a mirror and see anything else but a fat gut and chubby arms lately. So my departure from my blog has been to avoid all the fitblrs I follow that have pictures of toned skinny people on them.

Tomorrow I have my first personal training session in 2 weeks. I think it will do me some good. My personal trainer really helps me get back into the right state of mind, almost like a therapist, but hotter.

So I’m sorry for not blogging lately, but obviously it was for good reason. I’m working on it. I’ll be back to normal soon. 

So I have a new tumblr! It’s called Stage Door Jane, and it’s dedicated to Broadway! Check it out!!!

Does running to the Ticket Line in Times Square on your lunch break count as a workout? If it does, I have gotten WAY more exercise than I’ve been counting. The ticket line is trying to keep me fit, that’s the only reason I can think of for STILL not having tickets to see Once. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is my day. I will be in Orchestra seats looking at the ever adorable Steve Kazee…

OK real talk: I have fairly big boobs. They aren’t “I need a customized bra” big, but they are decently sizable. 

During my lunch time work out classes, we use kettle bells, and we do more than just swings. Every time I need to dead lift the kettle bell up to my chin I seriously have to knock my boobs out of the way to do it with the proper form. This happens in pretty much every exercise I do with the kettle bells besides the swings. Every one else in this small class has a smaller chest that I do so no one can relate. I even started wear 2 sports bras to class, a class that I don’t do any jumping around in, just to flatten them down, but it still doesn’t work. I’m surprised I don’t have bruises all over me from hitting myself with a 15lb kettle bell over and over again.

Please tell me this happens to you. I have to know I’m not alone! Any suggestions on how to fix this?

Ok so I’m sorry I suck at blogging now. It’s been like two weeks. I miss you. I’d like to say I stay up all night thinking about you but that would be a lie. I don’t want to lie to you. The truth is I haven’t had much to say and I’m just so tired. I’ll try to be better. I’ll try to be the blogger you want me to be.