Yes, that was a tantrum I threw in my last post. It took me a long walk and some surprisingly warm fresh air to get over it. My body, blasted everloving thing it is, is not naturally flat-bellied. So instead of taking a deep breath and realizing THAT IS OKAY, I got angry and frustrated that my body did not do what I wanted. I want washboard abs and I want them now, dammit! ("Don't caaare how, I want it nooooooow")
Clearly, I have stomach issues. I'm rectangle-shaped, like my mother. I also tend to gain weight first in my abdomen, which is part anorexia-related and part genetic. There's nothing I can do about that. After a point, only excessive exercise and restricting can get you beyond where those little helixes say you're going to be (yes folks, I'm a college student. That's book-lernin talk, there).
Comparing myself to others has rarely done me any good. So I'm going to make a renewed effort NOT TO DO IT. It only leads me to loathe my body, and that's not pleasant for anyone, least of all my dear readers.
And instead of talking myself out of the wine-and-cheese birthday party I'm invited to, I'm going to put on my nice clothes and my wonderful boots and I'm going to go and enjoy the shit out of it.