Hiding from the world to make it go away

September 24, 2008 at 11:28 am (Rants and Vents, Weekly roundup)
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That’s what I’ve been doing for the past week and no, it hasn’t helped. It has however, left me in a permanent sugar high. Along with the same problems.

In the past week, I drank more alcohol and ate more bread, chocolate and ice-cream than I have for the past few months. I’ve slept less and procrastinated more. I’ve ranted more and breathed less.

In short, the past week has not been a good one. I got news last Tuesday that my work permit application had been rejected – not permanently, but more “we want more paperwork and resubmit” like. Not a huge thing except that my current visa expires in less than a month. I spent Tuesday afternoon in tears and then drunk and then in tears again. Which meant I spent Wednesday exhausted, in tears and possibly slightly hung-over. This approach did not make the problem go away. It did, however, convince most of my colleagues that I was either (a) deathly ill and contagious or (b) completely psychotic. They be slightly right on the second one, but still.

Anyway, things are progressing and I’m confident I won’t be deported or anything. But it threw me for a loop and made me realise that I miss my family at times like this. My friends have been great but sometimes you need a little familial TLC. Coming up to Jewish New Year is also tough – this will be the first time I’ve ever been away from family for this time. I’ve found services to attend and places to go for dinner but it’s still wrong somehow. I know what everyone will be doing back home and I wish I could be there. I was SUPPOSED to be there but what with this whole visa issue, I didn’t want to take the chance that I couldn’t return once I’d left the country.

So my fitness has been lagging and my eating has been haphazard but my life is getting sorted slowly. It’s times like this that I realise how much support we all need and actually have. People I never thought would even care about my situation have rallied around me and made sure that I’m not alone and don’t feel alone. And that’s been good.

That said, if anyone has a good contact in the Canadian Immigration Department, I’d really appreciate it! LOL

Hope everyone else has been well. And no, I haven’t finished assembling all my IKEA furniture yet. :)

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Losing myself

September 14, 2008 at 6:55 pm (Rants and Vents, Self-Esteem)
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Throughout my adolescent and adult life, I have been largely defined by my shape. The big bust, the tiny waist, the child-bearing hips. No matter what my weight may have been, my shape remained the same. I struggled as a teenager – women on both sides of the family are well-endowed and while many women wish for it, I hated the fact that at 13 years old, I was already past the pretty bras and into the minimizes.

Trust me, for a 13 year old, no minimizer is pretty. Not when her friends barely need to wear bras and go shopping for the pretty training bras. I think I wore a training bra for a month, if that.

I wore baggy t-shirts and sweaters. I refused to wear bikinis. I sobbed when I grew out of bras and had to move up another size. By the time I was 15, I was wearing a 32DD and my breasts were sagging and ugly. I called them my “granny tits”. My left breast was significantly bigger than my right and I probably should have been wearing a bigger size, but I refused to try anything larger. I hated my body.

My parents watched me hate my body. They watched me slouch – to hide the granny tits and because my back couldn’t take it. I found it physically painful to stand up straight.

So at 15, my mother took me to a plastic surgeon who agreed to perform a breast reduction if I didn’t grow any larger in the next 6 months. He wanted to make sure I had stopped growing. He told me all about the loss of sensation and the fact that I may not be able to breastfeed, but I didn’t care. I watched my chest carefully for 6 months and proclaimed no new growth.

I had the surgery 13 years ago and honestly, it was the best thing I ever did. no regrets. The only problem was that 6 months after the surgery, I emigrated to Australia with my family after a whirlwind process and proceeded to gain weight from then. Not a lot at once, but it all went to my chest. I ended up back at a 32DD but with a better shape (regular boobs, not granny tits!) so while it bugged me that I was still not really able to buy very pretty cheap bras, I didn’t feel ashamed. In fact, I owned the look – the hourglass, the sex-kitten. That was me.

I was the one with the enviable shape. The one who never needed a push-up bra. The one who would complain about guys never looking at her face while her friends groaned. It defined me.

Now, I’m losing that. Literally. I have dropped 2 bra sizes in the past 3 months. I’m down to a 32C for the first time since my reduction 13 years ago. All the sexy bras I’ve accumulated? Look ridiculous. My one cleavage bra? No longer produces cleavage. My empire waist tops now actually fit as they should and not half-way across the breast. I can now technically buy all those pretty bras.

So why am I sad? Explain to me why, after years of wishing I was smaller and more in proportion, I now look in the mirror and mourn my breasts. Why did I feel so sad boxing up all my old bras (not throwing them away yet)?

I’m struggling with seeing myself as I really am now. I still look in the mirror and see the old me – the boobs, the hips. I don’t know how to start seeing the new me and starting really inhabiting her body.

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Two screws loose

September 8, 2008 at 1:26 pm (Uncategorized)
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My IKEA desk that is. Nothing is wobbly or wonky and yet I have 2 screws left over. I wonder…

I’m finally moved into my new place and LOVING it, if not loving all the IKEA furniture stacked up against one wall, waiting to be assembled. I wonder about the minds of IKEA designers and their many methods of torturing the poor consumer.

“I know, let’s add 2 more screws to the pack and make them wonder if their desk is going to collapse any time soon!”

“Even better – let’s have some of the screw holes NOT line up so their furniture either wobbles or they go insane while trying to assemble it!”

I imagine them chuckling insanely in their workrooms, working on new strangely named designs that will increase blood pressure medication sales.

I’m slowly getting settled in my place. Boxes are getting unpacked. I’m feeling almost settled. Things are good.

Sorry for the short post – trying to get things done at work and at home is taking up time. I am here and I am reading other blogs – just being a bit quiet on my end. I’ll be back properly soon. :)

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