Red Out Loud had a nightmare about being fat last night. She dreamed that being between a size 4 and 6 was just not acceptable. She dreamed that this number defined her. She dreamed this and woke up depressed feeling unloved, minus her puppy that she was comfortably spooning.
Why do you think size, weight, looks, so often define the way a woman feels about herself? I mean, should we not, by now, in our later 20's, recognize that it is what is on the inside that counts? It is funny for me, my weight fluctuates frequently, generally with my mood. Because I take certain things to heart, my body reacts, nerves make me nauseaus, sadness makes me crave, anger makes me stop. My weight never fluctuates because I think I should look a certain way. It is always just a natural reaction to something that is happening to me.
Right now in my life, I can admit, I am uneasy, however nothing is happening to me and my weight, after losing so much of myself in Dean, has reached its normal number. And somehow it is the only thing on my mind. I feel fat, but I know I am not and if I was, I know there would be nothing wrong with it. Regardless. I am a size 2. I am 5'3. I am tiny. I have never been called otherwise. Yet, its on my mind.
And as I obsess about it, what to eat that day, what not to eat, as I stare at my body, unclothed, in the mirror, I think, this must be about something else. I must be worrying about something else, or many things, it can not literally be my appearance.
I hope I put my finger on it soon, actually, I hope I squash whatever it is with my whole palm. I never want to have a dream about my weight again. It is a waste of my quietest hours, dreams should fill with my greatest ideas, hopes, desires, even my fears. Not some issue that really is just the top of a casket full of the heart of the matter.
How do you grow from a nightmare about your jean size?
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