God, I tried to write an insightful post but it just comes out as whining. I care too much about my body - and why? If Girl A sees me on the street and is glad she's thinner than me, so what? If cute smoker-boy from yesterday thought, eh, too porky, does that matter? No, it doesn't. The only person my body matters to is me (well Jim, too, but let's leave that for now).
But my body matters to me, that's the problem. Others' bodies don't mean a thing. My body, on the other hand, reflects my worth. I might be smart, I might be friendly and kind, but I'm just not good enough. Being thin makes me just a little bit better - and why should you ever stop trying to improve?
This recent weight gain has been profoundly mindfucking. I had just started to really loosen up - and by really loosen up, I mean have a teeny brownie when my roommates made them, or have ciders and fruity drinks when I went out with my friends. My meals still hadn't changed much - lots of veggies, nothing fried or buttery, no pasta and hardly any bread. And yet I still gained. I had a general sense of how many calories I was taking in, and it was less than those online calculators said I needed. And I still gained. Does that mean that the calculators are wrong, the nutritionists are wrong, everybody is wrong?
And why, why, why do I care so much? There's nothing inherently wrong with gaining weight. There's nothing wrong with having a brownie or cider. I could change the way I feel about this. I could pull myself up by my bootstraps and just say, stoppit, get over it, no one gives a damn but you. If only it were that easy. I feel shitty for gaining weight and I feel shitty for feeling shitty about it. I can't win. Shit.