Weightloss and its Bullshit

I HATE body image, weight loss, fat, skinny, jacked, healthy living, and all that other bullshit that people obsess about.

But you know what the worst part is? I am one of the obsessors. I follow like 15 fitness people on Instagram and I completely obsess about my body. I wish I had the will power to just not care… but I don’t.

When I was in my early years of high school I was super fit and muscular because I played like a million sports. Even then I remember obsessing about how I looked. I went through a phase of bulimia when I was on the high school wrestling team in grade 11. I remember I cried the day I weighed over 100 pounds… and that was in grade 9. Since then, I got older (obviously), and my metabolism slowed down, and so did my exercising habits. In first year university I gained about 12 pounds (not quite the freshman 15) and barely exercised. I was depressed and felt fucking awful about myself. I lost my naturally toned arms and abs and discovered I now have a nice (and by nice I mean revolting) little tricep and tummy jiggle. Since then I’ve gone up and down in weight, and I haven’t been happy with the way I looked since high school.

I am literally driven crazy by this obsession to look a certain way. I’m telling you right now that I am short and stalky by nature, and I will never look the way the Victoria’s Secret models do, just solely based on height and length of limbs; never mind the lack of tone in my muscles. And yet, There’s a couple of them that I want to look like more than anything.

And oh the HATRED I feel for those women! It’s not their fault, they were born tall and dedicated their lives to being skinny and looking pretty while people take pictures of them all the time. I know some of them actually work really hard to stay the way they are, which is great; all the power to them. But it doesn’t make me hate them any less. Obviously, I am jealous. I understand that. But come on, life is just so unfair sometimes… Why can’t I look sexy like that? Being short and stalky = NOT SEXY. If I at least had toned muscles and less of the thunder thigh look, I might at least be approaching sexy… Buuuut no.

So anyways, a couple months ago I was lacking the motivation to get my shit together and change how I felt about myself and how I look more than ever. Since then, my boyfriend has been trying to help me, and made some suggestions. He purchased a fitbit for me and got me to join in with his personal trainer 3 times a week. I love the personal training. I feel like I am pushed so much more to work hard when someone is telling me what to do. It was a great idea. 3 more days a week I goto the gym solo and work out, which aren’t usually as productive as my training sessions, but I still get my sweat on. The fitbit has been helping me monitor my progress and keep track of my diet and exercise so that my lifestyle is more consistent.

I also drastically changed my diet. and WOOOOH I love junk food and carbs! I can’t get enough of them. I am an addict and not afraid to admit it. And for so long I used to punish myself for the days that I binged and I would feel terrible about myself and be angry and depressed. And because of this terrible diet I had, I told myself thats why I was seeing zero results while exercising. But now, I eat almost no junk food and have added a lot more healthy foods into my diet, I’m exercising more than I have in years, and still to no avail. I look the same. I feel the same. I see all these success stories online and wonder how the fuck that was ever possible for anyone. I still feel just as jiggly as when I started and I am doing everything right. I am not an amateur at this whole exercise and diet crap! I’ve made every mistake in the book and have since learned from it. But it doesn’t fucking MATTER. Because none of it is working.

I wish I could stop caring. I really do. I’m sure I would be a lot happier. But I can’t. I wanted to express my frustration to people, in the hopes that I’m not the only person out there struggling to lose weight, bulk up, tone up, or whatever else there is to do to your body. I see other people’s success and I can’t even feel happy for them because I am so jealous and angry; comparing them to my own failures.

Anyway, I hope people can relate to this story… or they can just call me crazy. That works too!

Mood Swings are fucked

I think from the 2 posts that I have written so far, I am making myself out to be a bit of a Taylor Swift.  Anyway, I will continue with that today with my rant on mood swings.  I swear my posts will get more sophisticated after this one…

Now, I’ve said before that I am an emotional person.  And I had been on birth control a couple years ago and found myself to be overly emotional with uncontrollable mood swings, so I decided to go off of it.  Unfortunately, I have had no choice but to go back on to it.  It has been great in every way!  Except for my hormonal outbursts of emotion.

It only happens for about 4-6 days a month where my emotions are literally turned upside-down topsy fucking turvy.  I become another person.  Ask my boyfriend.  Okay don’t actually, but if you did, he would tell you I become pollo loco (crazy chicken).  I know, that doesn’t make any sense.  Anyway, I lose my shit.

My paranoia levels rise to that of an unstable person, and I am depressed about everything and its like there is an evil monkey sitting on my head shitting negative thoughts into my brain.  I drown in my own despair about everything and manage to cry about anything imaginable.  The worst part is I can feel myself being insane but I can’t make it stop, which only triggers more whaling in despair about how I can FEEL myself being insane and I can’t fix it.

For example, this morning, I was angry that I had to go take an hour and a half ferry ride to where my sister works to cover her shift for her when I already covered for her last week and she said it would just be one shift, and I was there visiting anyway so I didn’t mind.  But I travelled the entire month of April and just wanted to stay HOME this weekend.  So, I began to get ready and mope about the apartment because of how horrible my life is (exaggerate much?) when I found the backing to an earring on the table.  I checked my ears and none were missing.  My boyfriends mom had just stayed with us the week before, so it was hers, but I immediately lost my mind and began to bombard my boyfriend with questions, WHO’S EARRING IS THIS?  WHY IS IT HERE?  ITS NOT MINE SO WHO’S IS IT?  Like a lunatic.  He told me to calm down and I realized I was being craycray so I stormed back to the bedroom and began to cry, realizing that I was having an episode of hormonal overload explosion syndrome, and went to my boyfriend, who was of course playing FIFA, and cried to him saying what is wrong with me?  He laughed and said why are you crying again?  I wailed I DONT KNOW!  and he ceased further questioning, obviously not wanting to deal with me, so I went back to the bedroom and cried further because my boyfriend wouldn’t pay attention to why I was being a deranged freak.  After I cried it all out, he asked, Better now?  I said marginally and I pouted for a while longer until I felt normal again.

I feel like this could be a scene out of rom com where like some pregnant woman is acting psycho to her husband and losing her marbles for no reason.  And everyone would laugh and say wow fuckin’ hormonal women eh?  Except that it legitimately happened and I am seriously alarmed at my mood swings.  I shouldn’t call them swings they are more like spikes.  Aggressive mood attacks causing self destruction.  Yep.  Thats a good name.  They are ruining me and my relationships with not just my boyfriend but everyone.  Boyfriend definitely gets the lion’s share of insanity, but its still affecting life on way too great of a scale.  How do I stop them?

Feeling emotionally out of control is not a good feeling.  Feeling excessive anger or sadness or paranoia is unhealthy.  I find that exercise helps me clear my head, but sometimes I am too down in the dumps that I can’t make myself go exercise.  Does anyone else feel crazy sometimes and unable to help themselves?

I love perceiving and understanding human emotions, so thanks for reading, or not!

My friend Jealousy – I’m probably crazy.

Jealousy is a despicable emotion.  I have decided that almost nothing positive can ever come from being jealous or dealing with a jealous person.  But here I sit, drowning in my jealousy.  Choking on it.  And the worst part is I can’t even stop myself.  My boyfriend and I have been dating for 6 months.  At first, I was not jealous.  I would be fine if he talked to girls and whatever, and it also didn’t bother me at all that his best friend was a girl.  But, as our relationship evolved and I fell more in love with him, I found myself being jealous more frequently.  It didn’t help that he would try to make me jealous because I continuously told him that I was not, in fact, jealous.  

I also found that at first I had no reason to be jealous, because I had no reason not to trust him.  But I started hearing things from my friends that he was a big man slut before he met me, and had a bunch of girls on the go.  He even told me himself that he had to end a few flings once he found me.  This at first made me feel special, like oh wow I was the girl that made him want a serious relationship and none of those other ho-bags did!  But my feelings started to change, and I don’t exactly know why, maybe because of what my friends had been saying, but I started to subconsciously erase the trust that I had built up with him in my head.  

This led to my psycho bitch phase 1.  One night, I went to bed early around 10:30pm because I was really tired. I’m lame, I know. My boyfriend wasn’t tired and decided to stay up and play FIFA on his PS4.  He came to bed around midnight and it kind of woke me up in the process, so I went pee when he climbed into bed and passed right out.  I went back into bed and lay there for a few minutes thinking.  I looked over at him and saw he was more or less unconscious with drool running down his face, and was then suddenly and inexplicably overcome with suspicion and had a vicious desire to look through his phone.  I know, I’m crazy.  Shaking with a sudden adrenaline rush, I walked around the bed and sat on the floor, boyfriend’s phone in hand.  He doesn’t have a password on it, as he always tells me “why would I need a password?  I have nothing to hide.” which first of all is stupid, because what if it got stolen…? But I digress.  I opened up his Facebook messages and found that he had a conversation with his ex, as well as a girl I knew he had slept with, but was still a friend of his.  I read the conversation with his ex first, and it was full of things I didn’t want to see, but nothing that affected him and I.  It was more or less them putting “closure” to the messy ending of their relationship which had happened a year and a half before he had met me.  I of course was beside myself upset that he chose to hide this conversation with his ex from me, because I am a very open person and don’t like secrets.  I would have been quite alright if he had told me he wanted to speak to his ex about apologies and whatever, but instead he went behind my back and chose to hide it from me.  I am sensitive so I rather know than not know…. maybe that makes me bizarre I don’t know.  The second conversation was a flirtatious one with a “friend” who he had slept with, and I would say that some of the things being said were pushing the boundary of “not okay”.  I was most definitely more upset about this conversation, and I don’t know if thats right or wrong or fucked up.  At any rate, I closed everything up, erased my tracks, and lay awake for 5 hours concocting a poisonous stew of negative and hurt feelings to turn myself into the green monster known as Jealousy.  I know, I know, curiosity killed the fucking cat.  I did this to myself.  All because I was crazy and invaded my boyfriend’s privacy based on a poorly thought out suspicion.

The next morning I knew I couldn’t leave this unsaid or I would literally lose my mind.  I pleaded guilty immediately to my crime, and proceeded to gently address all the hurtful things I discovered.  He responded with disappointment at my invasion, but apologized for not telling me about his confrontation with his ex, and sort of brushed off the second conversation, claiming that he wasn’t being flirty but he was “sorry if it seemed that way”.  I said it was okay and that from now on he should tell me if he is talking to his ex, and not to instigate conversations with girls he had recently slept with before me, which I thought wasn’t totally unreasonable?  I’m too uptight aren’t I… Anyway, he agreed.

Maybe I’m too open for some peoples’ liking, and maybe its weird that I requested he tell me whenever his ex talks to him, but my policy is honesty, because I HATE secrets and lies.  I rather know than not know, like I said before.  I have been in a relationship of secrets and lies, and it was an unspeakable disaster.  That being said, I have been rattled ever since.

Now that I have these possibilities that he could be lying to me again running around in my head, I can’t help myself.  I let my imagination run wild and picture him having nightly conversations with various girls or lying about where he’s going to see any of them.  Psycho bitch phase 2.  Crazy thoughts and crazy accusations.  And it did NOT help that I found out (not by me snooping) about another instance where his ex had spoken to him (a non cheating conversation).  It was his failure to tell me while he was showing me something on his phone and I saw the chat.  I was very upset that he kept it from me again, and he promised it wouldn’t happen again and that he was sorry he didn’t tell me and that he was just worried I would freak out.  But of course I freaked out MORE once I found out he DIDNT tell me!! GOD!!  Okay, crazy lady overload here.  

Jealousy has invaded my body and taken over my free will.  It controls me and it consumes me, and I can’t get it to leave.  Does the doubt always stay once the trust has been contorted?  I want to say that I still trust him, but from my behaviour, I clearly don’t.  I am constantly wondering who he is talking to.  If its a girl, I am unreasonably frosty about the fact that he’s talking to this person, even if they are a perfectly nice and harmless girl.  I know he loves me, but if I know that, then why do I still not trust him?  Trust and jealousy are very closely related emotions.  I struggle with both of them.  

It also (in a weird twisted way) makes me feel better that he gets jealous about guy friends that I talk to (which is almost none because I don’t WANT my boyfriend to have jealousy problems with me).  I like knowing that I can make him feel what he makes me feel… which is of course pathetic and immature and wrong.  Did I mention I’m crazy already?  I KNOW that jealousy causes problems so I try to avoid it whenever I can, but why does he make it impossible for me to ditch the wretched emotion!?  I’m in this relationship for the long haul, but at this rate, how will we survive when we are both BFF with the Green Monster?

As always, thanks for caring or not or whatever.

Do I want sex too much?

So, since this is my first ever blog post I believe an introduction is in order.  I am a 22 year old woman, (sounds weird to call myself a woman as I certainly don’t feel like one) and I have a boyfriend.  And that’s pretty much all you need to know for now.  I’m just going to blabber on about my sex life for a while, (weirdly personal, I know) and if you feel like this might be interesting to you then please be my guest and read on.  Otherwise keep browsing!

So, at the beginning of my relationship, that is to say the first couple months, I could be found complaining about my vagina hurting.  The reason being not because I was plagued with spattergoit, (Harry Potter reference) but because of all the sex I was having with my boyfriend.  It seemed that he wanted it 3 to 4 times a day.  I am pretty easy going in this respect, and as it was the beginning of our relationship I wanted to please.  However, there was one day when 5 times was enough and I could do no more. At any rate, you can gather that the boy liked his sex with me.

Now, 7 months into the relationship, things have slowed down considerably in the bedroom.  And you must be thinking, oh this chick is just doin’ her stereotypical womanly thing and denying sex because she doesn’t feel like it, or has some how weaponized it against her boyfriend, thus the decline in the amount of sex.  But no.  Quite the contrary.  My boyfriend completely flip flopped (in my opinion out of nowhere) into this creature that I sleep next to every night who tells me several times a day that he loves me, and even loves to cuddle before he falls asleep, but appears to no longer remember that I indeed HAVE a vagina.  The sex drive just… gone like the wind.

And now… the problems arise.  We have sex but he can’t finish.  He blames me that I am pressuring him and he wants me to wait for him to initiate.  But he never initiates.  From having sex 2 or 3 times a day to 1 maybe 2 times a week in a very short period of time, I can’t help but think something is up?  I am an affectionate person.  I like to show people that I love them.  I like to kiss my boyfriend, and before he never seemed to mind how much we kissed and now he says, “ya ya mi amor ya” (he’s Mexican) and if you can’t get what that means, it’s something along the lines of “okay ya thats enough babe”.  And I feel like a crazy person.  I try to initiate sex several times a day just to get some kind of reaction but no.  Nothing.  Always shut down.  And on top of that, I’m told that I’m a crazed sex monger who needs to slow the fuck down with that raging vagina.  Okay, maybe not in those words, but you get the point.

I’m not asking for validation of my relationship, or if he’s cheating on me or lost interest or blah blah whatever other insecure thing I might whine about.  I simply wondered if I was being sexually overbearing?  Am I the reason my sexual life has obscured itself into oblivion?  Have I been too pushy?  I certainly don’t want to have sex with my boyfriend if he feels like I’m holding a gun to his head screaming for him to put his penis inside me.  That’s no solution to this problem.

And I realize that not every single man in this world is obsessed with his penis like we all make them out to be, but is once a day really asking too much?  I am sensitive, and the rejection has obviously gotten into my head to the point where I feel like I have to blog about it… #Narcissist?

I have asked what is going on numerous times and I usually get defensiveness and excuses in response, no matter how delicately I approach the subject.  I have also tried to back off and see if that would increase his desire to initiate but still no dice.  The only time he initiates is if he or I has gone away and we haven’t seen each other for 4 or 5 days and he will unceremoniously pull my pants off and go on in.  Where has the intimacy gone?  He was never a romantic, but he was also not this in-and-out robot either.

I am whining a bit I know.  But I have concluded that I am doing something very wrong, or there is something going on with him that has caused his sexual drive to plummet and he can’t get it back until he solves his inner issues that he refuses to share with me.  Do I play the waiting game?  Or do I do something more drastic?  I live with him and we have a pretty serious relationship but I can’t help but be a 16 year old girl and overthink every tiny little detail until I have concocted a monsoon of negative thoughts that consume me, causing crazy emotional breakdowns.

Okay anyway just felt like speaking to anybody who reads blogs… so thanks for listening, or scoffing, or empathizing, or rolling your eyes, or sympathizing, or stopping after the first paragraph, or whatever else you did.