I don’t want to write this. However, this blog writes itself. There is something I need to express and so here goes nothing. Last May I wrote about something and recently received a new comment on it.
How ironic then… [or is it ironic? Alanis Morissette really ruined the term for me. I’ll never get it right].
How coincidental then that I’ve been barraged by comments like those for the past two weeks and finally, yesterday, resulted in a long, drawn-out conversation about my body with a woman while I choked back tears and tried to hide the fact I was having a meltdown. (In a bikini, by the way).
She literally would.not.stop.
Each mention of my weight gain is like pouring acid into an open wound I have been walking around with for a month. I’ve been so, SO uncomfortable almost to the point of pain in my own skin. Each waking moment has been like torture.
Read that again, because this is what I am going through. Torture.
So yesterday I fell apart. I broke. I ran to the bathroom in the gym and cried and just tried to breathe and that is where I am now (I mean, I’m not still in the bathroom but you get the picture.)
Unfortunately, I have no positive take-a-way right now. I’m just weathering the storm.
Maybe that’s my take-a-way. Sometimes life can be full of suck and I have to put my big-girl panties on (literally) and deal.
How I choose to “deal” will make all the difference.