I’m in a really bad space right now. I can’t think of a single thing I like about myself.
I know that I’m intelligent, but I don’t really care.
I know that others think I’m pretty, but I don’t.
I hate my body and am wearing baggy clothes to cover it. Not that I think that I’m overweight. I just don’t like it right now. An older gentleman (someone I’ve known for years) at my meeting yesterday evening commented to me afterward that he hadn’t been able to give me my usual hug because of the way my clothes fit; it created a reaction in him… He mentioned that the jeans I wore to my AA anniversary in February were tight, too. I don’t recall this, but am now extremely self-conscious. I’ve put on about 5-7 lbs. in the past year so the clothes are a little snugger, but I’m not going to buy a whole new wardrobe over it. Those lbs. are temporary as I get through this stressful time. But ever since he mentioned it yesterday, I just want to hide in tent-like clothing. In fact, I am. My clothes today are over-sized and baggy, hanging on me. Poor Randy made the mistake of calling me “Sexy” last night, for which I almost bit his head off. He compounded the mistake by insisting that I am. Great. I’m glad he sees me that way, I really am. But I didn’t want to be seen that way just then. Or now, for that matter.
I’m under so much pressure at the moment and all I want to do is curl up in a fetal position with my back to a corner, and cry.
The pendulum has swung from manic to depressed at such an opportune time, eh?
Yeah, I’ll get through this. I always do. I just needed to put this out there.