So, as far as “opinion of self” goes, I’m feeling pretty good at the moment. Crises of confidence and intellectual doubt aside, I’m coming up on having lost almost 5kg since returning from South America, and that’s pretty awesome. I think I can notice a difference – my waist is a tiiiiiiiiiny bit smaller, but that’s a start. However, I’m wearing rather short shorts today (it’s hot here!), and I just went to admin and caught my reflection in the glass double doors, and oh my god.
Holy thigh wobble, Batman!
Now, I’ve never really let my size get in the way of doing things I want to do – except a couple of times when I refused to leave my house and instead stayed at home sobbing myself into stupor. It’s not that I’m a hideously gargantuan tub of lard – I can run and swim and breathe, and I talk to people I don’t know without wondering if they’re trying to get away from That Fat Girl, and I wear what I want – and this includes a bikini at the beach, and short shorts in summer (and you can stop retching now). I only need to lose about 13 more kilos to be considered a ‘healthy’ weight, so you know – my life is defined by other things than being a fatty. Despite the fact that I hate with a passion the extra flubber on my body, I don’t feel like a fat person, and so I try not to let it rule my life (albeit unsuccessfully, at times).
However. The case of the wobbly thighs today has all but inspired me to get my buttocks to the nearest shopping centre and purchase some sensible shorts – shorts that cover a little bit more of the thighs of doom. Thankfully Witchery have a whole bevy of gorgeous and affordable shorts that will be suitable… but I feel like I’m a bit of a cop out for letting this one incident dictate what I wear. I seriously felt like everyone was staring at my wobbly legs as I walked back to my office, and maybe they were, but normally I don’t let that stuff bother me. But today it did. And that sucks.
At least on the upside, I know I’m really doing something about it.
