I am having a day.

This morning I woke up in my underwear, fitted tank that I wore to work yesterday, and went to the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror grabbing my stomach oozing over the top of my too-old, ill-fitting cotton briefs and so my day started.

I make my breakfast shake, pack my lunch, and so the dance to get dressed reasonably presentable for my ‘real job’ begins…I sift through the pile of mish-mosh adjacent to my bed—a haphazard regurgitation of clothes that I am too lazy to put away, wore for part of a day at some point, or tried on then discarded…Ahhh, my Levi’s [Sure, why not? I wear them like 3x a week anyway].

My socks—these will come in handy later when I teach cycling so I don’t need to pack a pair.

Boots. One of 3 pairs of shoes I wear to work. Either moccasins, Coach booties, or these sweet little cowboy-esque boots from DSW. Another day as a fashionista with my stale wardrobe.

Now, what to wear for a shirt…? The challenge to find a baggy and shapeless shirt is beginning to prove more and more difficult as time presses on. I have virtually no clothes since I loathe shopping and everything else I own I have worn so much it’s just plain predictable. Sometimes I wish I could just wear a uniform to work to avoid having to figure out what to wear on a daily basis.

Today is Tuesday. We wear red on Tuesdays in solidarity for The United Teachers of Los Angeles. I hate red. What do I own that’s red? My own union tee is teeny and too fitted for my taste now…hmmm. I rifle through my bins since in my way-too-small apartment with my fiancé Greg we live like poor college students and I don’t have a dresser.

I find a Spartan Race volunteer tee. I cut it since it’s like a dress on my 5’0 frame and toss it on over a camisole, which is my pathetic effort to try to suck some of this bulging body in.

I look in the mirror in disgust at this mess of a human I have become when it comes to presenting myself. Not caring (or rather, avoiding to care too much because it’ll just depress me), I throw my hair into a high ponytail atop my head like a ninja; roll my eyes and head out the door.

The worst part of my day is over, or maybe it’s just beginning. I need to get through the entire day in this disgraceful and pathetic display of an outfit. I swear people, there was a time I wore nice things, looked good in them, and knew a thing or two about fashion. I mean shit, I must know nothing nowadays—I swore that damn dress was white and gold.

I constantly tug on my top I cut. Though it’s baggy enough, it makes me feel exposed. I hate how my body feels in clothing. I hate how my body feels without clothing. I am filled with so much hate right now it is clouding my ability to function.

Over the weekend I let myself eat pretty unrestricted: Mexican food Friday night, a beer and a sandwich on Saturday, Sunday brunch, and even a doughnut. Definitely not Paleo and nowhere near healthy despite two workouts over the weekend in addition to my classes. I cannot seem to let go of the guilt for indulging. I am harboring anger for being so uncontrolled and callous with my choices. And to make things worse, my wedding is getting closer and closer with each passing day.

My wedding dress arrived in November. Upon its arrival, I opened the garment bag to ensure it was indeed the right dress but now 4 months later, I still have yet to even try it on, let alone even go for my first fitting. I am paralyzed with fear that the dress will not fit. The thought of even putting on this amazing dress that I have picked out to wear on the most important day of my life doesn’t symbolize what it’s supposed to. Right now it’s just making me uncomfortable. What’s more is I got caught up watching “Say Yes to the Dress” which I will note, I really don’t even enjoy but I figured—I’m getting married, so why not? Swirling in my head were the brides with their trim figures, flat stomachs, and the ones who lost 20 pounds and didn’t have 20 pounds to lose in the first place. Ugh, I would do anything to lose 20 pounds. Jealousy and rage filled me and I pouted by skipping my workout last night and literally did nothing. Instead of taking action, I wallowed in my self-pity and sulked on my couch.

And so here I am today. Polluted by the toxicity of my own mind, unable to move past my self-hatred to the point where I am struggling to function.

 

I am listless.