Who's a Big Fat Fattie? ME!!!

Ah yes, it has returned. Those pesky 10-15 lbs that keep my semi-hourglass figure looking a tad too thick in the middle.

It happens. Things get complicated, or depressing, or complacent, and I start eating. I haven't been working out due to no gym membership ($70/mo to use a treadmill and freeweights? I don't think so) and haven't been to a dance class because of a general lack of cash. Not to mention its winter, which means far less "Hey I have a day off I'm gonna go walking around Central/Prospect Park for a couple hours cuz its gorgeous out and oh why not walk from he Upper West Side down to 14 street I have nothing better to do."

No seriously, when its warm out, I do crazy shit like walking three miles down eighth avenue, stopping only for the occasional iced tea and or Sephora run-through. I'm broke and I like to walk.

Cutbacks on my hours at work. Good auditions but no jobs. Lack of love life.

Wouldn't YOU treat yourself with an extra cupcake?

And now it's winter, which means less outside time, more baggy clothes, heartier foods and less concern about how I look in a strappy tank top. So I have been eating a bit too much, and its starting to show. I'm someone who carries all their weight in their torso, and so when I start to feel my tummy touching my thighs while I'm sitting down, I know I've gone too far.

I'm not completely delusional. I know that generally, I'm a "big girl." I've never been particularly skinny, thanks to genetics. Whatever skinny gene my family may have had was incapacitated at by creation, most likely being crushed by my family's dominant fat gene. I also have an addicition to anything greasy, covered in cheese and/or salt, and consume far too many carbs. For years I've had it drilled into my head that something was wrong with me because I couldn't just BE SKINNY. Other girls were skinny, why couldn't I be too?

And then it just sort of hit me: Elizabeth, its OKAY to be a little fat. And its okay to say "fat". My body image shifted, as did my confidence, and I became prouder of the fact that I had curves. I though of 1940s screen sirens and Renaissance art. I came to terms with the fact that as long as a piece of clothing make me look and feel great, I didn't really care what size it came in. That size 14 dress doesn't fit me? Grab it in a size 16, I like what the color does to my skin.

But as is often the case, I can go overboard. The winter blah's have caused a massive increase in crappy foods and inactiveness, and the curves has gotten a little less defined.

And so I had a little farewell meal this afternoon, consisting of delicious leftovers from a local Spanish restaurant. Roast pork and rice and beans and platanos.... dear god, that is the BEST. I think I'll head to a local "Buy Everything You Could Ever Want for Ridiculously Cheap HERE!" store and buy a scale and get real. That's the awul thing: I don't actually own a scale and I have no idea what my actual weight is right now. I like to feel that ignorance is bliss. Its not in this case.

So I guess we're back on the wagon for a bit. Foods to avoid: ANYTHING at that restaurant. Pizza. The red velvet cupcakes at work. Really really sugary stuff. Whole milk in my iced mocha at work.

Sigh. Here we go again.