Wednesday
Apr202005
Ew ew ew ew, getitoff, get.it.off!
Wednesday, April 20, 2005 at 06:44PM
I've always been 5.6", well except for those years where I pretended so much that I actually believed I was 5.7" AND A HALF because I didn't like being short, I've always been 5.6"
Which made me tall in high school. But thin, oh I was thin. 90 lbs. I was. No, really. I'd have to run around in the shower to avoid slipping down the drain.
Anyways, it never really bothered me that much until the doctor du famille (or whatever, my french sucks) decided that there was something wrong with me being thin.
I had to buy children's pants when I was 16. I remember that Lester and I used to wear trackpants UNDER our jeans so we didn't look so thin. The problem was, well, there wasn't any problem - we were just thin. We weren't hitting the vomitorium three times a day, we weren't shooting up the heroin, smoking da crack during recess with Satan or gorging on ex-lax like some of the other girls. We.were.just.thin. It's not like we wanted to be. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been wearing trackpants under our clothes, yanno? It's not like it's cold here on the island. And seriously, her and I both could pack away the Mickey D's, whoaaaaa.
Anyways, I had to go through all these gory tests to set the doctor's minds at ease and at some point some endocrinologist decided that my pituitary gland didn't work right. Or, as he explained it to my obviously strength and intelligence deprived 15 year old brain, "The pituitary gland is like a conductor of an orchestra. You know what they do, right? And so your conductor, he just doesn't feel like working all the time and so all of the pieces of the band don't know what to do and sometimes, they just don't do anything at all."
So, basically, the hormones, they aren't kicking in and when they do, they're doing a half assed job and whatever, nothing they can do, I'll be fine, blah blah blah. What my doctor did do, in part because I hadn't had my period yet, was to put me on the pill. He figured that'd be a good idea because it's so obviously subversive and wrong to not have your period at a certain age. So, he succeeded cause that kicked that pituitary right in - four months later I had huge boobs, no ass and I weighed 134 lbs (that would be 43 pounds I gained, thankyouverymuch). Two months before my sixteenth birthday, they took out my gallbladder. If you actually read the little pamphlets that come with birth control, you'll notice they say, increase the risk of gallbladder disease and you might even be aware that normally the rule of thumb for gallstones (I had 15) is fat, fair and forty. Over the years, I've had a lot of weird shit wrong with me and in all of the research I've done - every single thing has one common denominator / trigger. Estrogen. I feel justified in that almost every single physical ailment I have had in my life is directly the fault of the doctor who put me on birth control. Plus, I've always thought that when I was thin that there was something wrong with me. I ended up with this whole complex about it, when all it really has been is a good metabolism.
I have a point to this. I do.
Over the last fifteen or so beer drinking years, my weight evened out around 144. I just kind of stuck there, no matter what. I don't think that living alone and having absolutely terrible eating habits did any good either and it wasn't a bad weight (which you might remember from the pictures at the website that is no longer).
Since I quit with the beers all the time, eat properly, get a little exercise and I think the radiation had something to do with this as well - I've lost about 9 pounds of body fat and I now balance out around 132.
I still have no ass.
I've had a collarbone the last couple years, which kind of grosses me out. You know, you go to scratch your neck and your hand gets caught in it. ick.
I should say here that I'm in no way complaining about being thin, nor am I bragging. It's just there. I've realized lately that there was never anything wrong with me and there still isn't and I'm kind of tired of apologizing to people who tell me I'm too thin. I just am. I eat. TRUST ME, I EAT A LOT. So, I'm not doing it on purpose to point my skinny finger at anyone else, I'm not trying to look like someone on Friends, in fact, I'd TRADE a leg for a nice plump ass and frankly, most of the time, I don't notice anyone else's physical mass relative to my own. Probably because I'm too busy feeling like there's something wrong with me because I'm thin. And now I'm all paranoid because I sound all 'boohoo, I'm thin'. Sheesh. It's that whole foot in mouth thing, innit? I"m just going to assume that you understand what I'm saying and say that I had to tell that part of the story so that you will understand the NEXT part of the story.
ANYWAYS, that said, last night I'm getting out of the shower - where basically you're stepping into the hallway and facing that horrifying mirrored closet thing - and I go to pull on my bathrobe.
I noticed, for the very first time ever, my ribs.
Now, not my ribs on my side or near my belly or anything but the ones that actually come around and into your breastbone. Those ones high up on your chest that most of us only see on skeletons. EWWWW!
I'm sorry,but I can't even look at the veins in my own wrist and suddenly there's this thing on my chest that looks exactly like ALIEN.
And I don't know how my body does this because I weigh just the same as I have for the last year and have all kind of extra fatty tissue jiggling around but for some reason all the skinny bits rearrange themselves every so often with the express purpose of grossing me out.
And now I can't look at myself in a mirror.
Can someone check with Warner Bros and see if that rubber thing they used on that guy's head is missing because it's totally taken up residence inside my chest.
I know, I have to get off the medical topics this week but I've got my three month review tomorrow and, well, let's just say, I'm trying to keep my mind off of it. Really FAR OFF OF IT.
Which made me tall in high school. But thin, oh I was thin. 90 lbs. I was. No, really. I'd have to run around in the shower to avoid slipping down the drain.
Anyways, it never really bothered me that much until the doctor du famille (or whatever, my french sucks) decided that there was something wrong with me being thin.
I had to buy children's pants when I was 16. I remember that Lester and I used to wear trackpants UNDER our jeans so we didn't look so thin. The problem was, well, there wasn't any problem - we were just thin. We weren't hitting the vomitorium three times a day, we weren't shooting up the heroin, smoking da crack during recess with Satan or gorging on ex-lax like some of the other girls. We.were.just.thin. It's not like we wanted to be. Otherwise, we wouldn't have been wearing trackpants under our clothes, yanno? It's not like it's cold here on the island. And seriously, her and I both could pack away the Mickey D's, whoaaaaa.
Anyways, I had to go through all these gory tests to set the doctor's minds at ease and at some point some endocrinologist decided that my pituitary gland didn't work right. Or, as he explained it to my obviously strength and intelligence deprived 15 year old brain, "The pituitary gland is like a conductor of an orchestra. You know what they do, right? And so your conductor, he just doesn't feel like working all the time and so all of the pieces of the band don't know what to do and sometimes, they just don't do anything at all."
So, basically, the hormones, they aren't kicking in and when they do, they're doing a half assed job and whatever, nothing they can do, I'll be fine, blah blah blah. What my doctor did do, in part because I hadn't had my period yet, was to put me on the pill. He figured that'd be a good idea because it's so obviously subversive and wrong to not have your period at a certain age. So, he succeeded cause that kicked that pituitary right in - four months later I had huge boobs, no ass and I weighed 134 lbs (that would be 43 pounds I gained, thankyouverymuch). Two months before my sixteenth birthday, they took out my gallbladder. If you actually read the little pamphlets that come with birth control, you'll notice they say, increase the risk of gallbladder disease and you might even be aware that normally the rule of thumb for gallstones (I had 15) is fat, fair and forty. Over the years, I've had a lot of weird shit wrong with me and in all of the research I've done - every single thing has one common denominator / trigger. Estrogen. I feel justified in that almost every single physical ailment I have had in my life is directly the fault of the doctor who put me on birth control. Plus, I've always thought that when I was thin that there was something wrong with me. I ended up with this whole complex about it, when all it really has been is a good metabolism.
I have a point to this. I do.
Over the last fifteen or so beer drinking years, my weight evened out around 144. I just kind of stuck there, no matter what. I don't think that living alone and having absolutely terrible eating habits did any good either and it wasn't a bad weight (which you might remember from the pictures at the website that is no longer).
Since I quit with the beers all the time, eat properly, get a little exercise and I think the radiation had something to do with this as well - I've lost about 9 pounds of body fat and I now balance out around 132.
I still have no ass.
I've had a collarbone the last couple years, which kind of grosses me out. You know, you go to scratch your neck and your hand gets caught in it. ick.
I should say here that I'm in no way complaining about being thin, nor am I bragging. It's just there. I've realized lately that there was never anything wrong with me and there still isn't and I'm kind of tired of apologizing to people who tell me I'm too thin. I just am. I eat. TRUST ME, I EAT A LOT. So, I'm not doing it on purpose to point my skinny finger at anyone else, I'm not trying to look like someone on Friends, in fact, I'd TRADE a leg for a nice plump ass and frankly, most of the time, I don't notice anyone else's physical mass relative to my own. Probably because I'm too busy feeling like there's something wrong with me because I'm thin. And now I'm all paranoid because I sound all 'boohoo, I'm thin'. Sheesh. It's that whole foot in mouth thing, innit? I"m just going to assume that you understand what I'm saying and say that I had to tell that part of the story so that you will understand the NEXT part of the story.
ANYWAYS, that said, last night I'm getting out of the shower - where basically you're stepping into the hallway and facing that horrifying mirrored closet thing - and I go to pull on my bathrobe.
I noticed, for the very first time ever, my ribs.
Now, not my ribs on my side or near my belly or anything but the ones that actually come around and into your breastbone. Those ones high up on your chest that most of us only see on skeletons. EWWWW!
I'm sorry,but I can't even look at the veins in my own wrist and suddenly there's this thing on my chest that looks exactly like ALIEN.
And I don't know how my body does this because I weigh just the same as I have for the last year and have all kind of extra fatty tissue jiggling around but for some reason all the skinny bits rearrange themselves every so often with the express purpose of grossing me out.
And now I can't look at myself in a mirror.
Can someone check with Warner Bros and see if that rubber thing they used on that guy's head is missing because it's totally taken up residence inside my chest.
I know, I have to get off the medical topics this week but I've got my three month review tomorrow and, well, let's just say, I'm trying to keep my mind off of it. Really FAR OFF OF IT.
Reader Comments (1)
About the thinness, I can only offer sympathy. If I rememeber correctly, it is mostly uncomfortable, trying to find a way to lie down without bruises.