Summer is ending, I can't believe it. This might be the first time I wished summer lasted just a little bit longer. It was a great one though, I hope you guys made the most of it.
In my absence on my blog I've pretty much been running amuck on Facebook. My updates have changed from "me and I" to "you, us and we". It's crazy how simply putting shit out there has made a difference in how I interact with my friends on there. Every day I try to put something up that isn't just about me and what I need. I hope people continue to enjoy them.
Lately, I've been spending a little time thinking about numbers and boxes. Let me try to explain, try to follow me. So numbers: everything is about a number. Your phone number, social security number, addresses, policies and passwords all have numbers in them. There's something I hate about being a number anything, something that makes me feel less Courtney when people insist on whittling my whole existence into numbers.
Then there's my issue with boxes, as in checkboxes as in categories. I hate this thought that everything in my life has to fit into some box. I actively buck being categorized when I can help it. People ask me about my sexual preference and then give me an answer they prefer, I shrug. I like who I like. People ask me about a religion and I don't have an answer. I believe in a God, but I'm not committed to any religion. I'd prefer to see the beauty in all of them. When I fill out a job, loan, school application it's full of these tiny ass boxes that mean nothing to me. Yup, college educated-check. Female-check. Full time availability-check. It's not that I don't understand the need for boxes, I just think there aren't enough boxes in this world to tell my story. Do you agree with that or do you find comfort in the boxes because it helps separate things?
Anyway, this whole thought process started because I started thinking about my weight. Not my usual "I should go to the gym", but really trying to pick apart the pieces of how I got so unhealthy. This rapid fire train of a bunch of Little Courtneys, all pretty unhappy with their weight but not really doing anything about it. And that number dipped like twice in my life, it has been climbing throughout my life.
When I started really thinking about some of my lack of motivation and I got fixated on the numbers. This number that I never put on anything, I think my license is off by at least fifty pounds. My current weight is almost 270 lbs....writing that makes me feel really vulnerable. Like those three numbers have so much power. They're why most my outfits before included a jacket, why I have structural superpowers where I can look at a chair and instantly know it won't hold me and why I've lived most of my life invisible.
Those numbers tell the real story of a lot of my life. Eating my emotions, my pain and my happiness- both celebrated with food. These holes that I attempted to fill with food and secrecy. My family and friends don't give me shit about my weight, no one presses me to lose weight and besides asthma my health is pretty decent.
On the other hand of this situation is a different set if numbers. These numbers that say by height I should be about 135 and that number has held my attention since I realized it existed. Thinking about getting to that weight from where I am kinda feels like thinking I could paddle across a river with a popsicle stick. And so I stayed on this side of the river, just deciding that it wasn't important.
But the funny thing is that those numbers put me in a dangerous box-morbidly obese. As in death, as in being this big and this shape could like kill me. Literally, put me in a box, imagine that?
In working in my happiness I've realized that I want to stay alive as long as possible. I wanna grow old and keep enjoying my life. So, I'm gonna work on my weight. Like take it seriously and actually make thinking about my body a part of my life. It's scary as fuck to think about numbers and my goal is not 135 lbs. Today, my goal is ten lbs less. When I meet that I'll set another one and then another one.
I've decided that I don't want to be invisible anymore. I want to take a fucking seat wherever I want. I want to go shopping and pick an outfit out and not spend twenty minutes hoping they have one more of my size. I WANT TO LIVE!!
The lady that helped me at the gym the other day said the greatest thing to me: "Two things other people can't take care of for you. Your mind and your body!" The realest truth ever lol. So, I'm not asking you to bear with me I'm asking you to join me while I make this shit happen.
Gimme another 28 days of your life and let's see if we can't make a dent in another part of our lives, together. If you've got goals, write them down. If you feel fine, encourage the rest of us. I'm feeling good, people. Let's make this happen. Talk soon! #BoxesAndNumbers #OneDayAtATime #BreakingUpWithMySweetTooth
In my absence on my blog I've pretty much been running amuck on Facebook. My updates have changed from "me and I" to "you, us and we". It's crazy how simply putting shit out there has made a difference in how I interact with my friends on there. Every day I try to put something up that isn't just about me and what I need. I hope people continue to enjoy them.
Lately, I've been spending a little time thinking about numbers and boxes. Let me try to explain, try to follow me. So numbers: everything is about a number. Your phone number, social security number, addresses, policies and passwords all have numbers in them. There's something I hate about being a number anything, something that makes me feel less Courtney when people insist on whittling my whole existence into numbers.
Then there's my issue with boxes, as in checkboxes as in categories. I hate this thought that everything in my life has to fit into some box. I actively buck being categorized when I can help it. People ask me about my sexual preference and then give me an answer they prefer, I shrug. I like who I like. People ask me about a religion and I don't have an answer. I believe in a God, but I'm not committed to any religion. I'd prefer to see the beauty in all of them. When I fill out a job, loan, school application it's full of these tiny ass boxes that mean nothing to me. Yup, college educated-check. Female-check. Full time availability-check. It's not that I don't understand the need for boxes, I just think there aren't enough boxes in this world to tell my story. Do you agree with that or do you find comfort in the boxes because it helps separate things?
Anyway, this whole thought process started because I started thinking about my weight. Not my usual "I should go to the gym", but really trying to pick apart the pieces of how I got so unhealthy. This rapid fire train of a bunch of Little Courtneys, all pretty unhappy with their weight but not really doing anything about it. And that number dipped like twice in my life, it has been climbing throughout my life.
When I started really thinking about some of my lack of motivation and I got fixated on the numbers. This number that I never put on anything, I think my license is off by at least fifty pounds. My current weight is almost 270 lbs....writing that makes me feel really vulnerable. Like those three numbers have so much power. They're why most my outfits before included a jacket, why I have structural superpowers where I can look at a chair and instantly know it won't hold me and why I've lived most of my life invisible.
Those numbers tell the real story of a lot of my life. Eating my emotions, my pain and my happiness- both celebrated with food. These holes that I attempted to fill with food and secrecy. My family and friends don't give me shit about my weight, no one presses me to lose weight and besides asthma my health is pretty decent.
On the other hand of this situation is a different set if numbers. These numbers that say by height I should be about 135 and that number has held my attention since I realized it existed. Thinking about getting to that weight from where I am kinda feels like thinking I could paddle across a river with a popsicle stick. And so I stayed on this side of the river, just deciding that it wasn't important.
But the funny thing is that those numbers put me in a dangerous box-morbidly obese. As in death, as in being this big and this shape could like kill me. Literally, put me in a box, imagine that?
In working in my happiness I've realized that I want to stay alive as long as possible. I wanna grow old and keep enjoying my life. So, I'm gonna work on my weight. Like take it seriously and actually make thinking about my body a part of my life. It's scary as fuck to think about numbers and my goal is not 135 lbs. Today, my goal is ten lbs less. When I meet that I'll set another one and then another one.
I've decided that I don't want to be invisible anymore. I want to take a fucking seat wherever I want. I want to go shopping and pick an outfit out and not spend twenty minutes hoping they have one more of my size. I WANT TO LIVE!!
The lady that helped me at the gym the other day said the greatest thing to me: "Two things other people can't take care of for you. Your mind and your body!" The realest truth ever lol. So, I'm not asking you to bear with me I'm asking you to join me while I make this shit happen.
Gimme another 28 days of your life and let's see if we can't make a dent in another part of our lives, together. If you've got goals, write them down. If you feel fine, encourage the rest of us. I'm feeling good, people. Let's make this happen. Talk soon! #BoxesAndNumbers #OneDayAtATime #BreakingUpWithMySweetTooth