In this post, I wax philosophical about nothing much

This has been one of those weeks (so far).  The kind where you wonder what you did to deserve all the crappy karma stuff that keeps biting you in the butt.  Or maybe it's good karma that keeps things from being any worse than they could have been...  Not really sure.  Glass half empty/full type of situation here.

Anyway, Sunday I wore my repaired FLS to church even though my most recent photos made me look fat and I wasn't feeling too confident about how I looked in it.  I was showing off where I'd repaired it, when I looked down and found ANOTHER hole.  I guess the yarn is just done and I need to replace the sweater entirely. 

Monday I went to the gym (because I was feeling fat after trying on clothes and comparing my photo in the FLS to an old one on my Ravelry project page).  I felt really strong while working out and was impressed at how much energy I had.  I was feeling pretty good about how I looked in my yoga pants (compared to when I first started working out) and I was having a good time.  Feeling confident.  Then, one of those tiny girls with delicate bone structure in super cute, matching workout gear (and her hair down and styled...) got on the machine right next to me and instantly in that moment I was back in high school all over again.  Awkward.  Freakishly tall.  Dateless.  Clothes that didn't fit properly.  And fat (that's a new condition by the way, I was not fat in high school).  I was instantly envious of her and how she was average height and how I bet all the men feel an instinctual need to protect her from harm.  She's girly.  I'm not.  I'm 6' and 187lbs.  I wear a size 10 shoe.  I have big hands.  I am an Amazon that comes lumbering into a room.  I am literally big and tall.  I hate it.

See, I know that everyone always tells me how they with they were taller and how luck I am, but really...you don't want this.  I'm 34 and I just now find clothes that fit, but I'm forced to order them online and only 3 stores carry talls that are tall enough (that I can afford).  Skirts aren't long enough.  I have bad knees and scoliosis and I can't just sit in any seat comfortably for a long period because my knees and hips cramp up.  I can't fit into several small car models.  I intimidate children.  Adults stare.  And on top of all this, I'm now overweight.  I have never (nor will I ever) fit the traditional standard of beauty.  That's usually okay but every now and then I just wish I was like everyone else.  I wish that I could just once feel like a girl.

Where is all this bitching going, you ask?  Well, first it was a wake up for me to realize that even as a grown woman in possession of above average intelligence, a gorgeous husband, two really great children, and an impressive yarn stash, I'm still incredibly insecure.  It's also a wake up call because one of my classes is shining a light on how a child's early years can affect them for the rest of their adult life and I can clearly see how mine is still affecting me.  Don't misunderstand me; my parents were warm and loving.  I had friends and I lived in a pretty safe neighborhood.  But I was always the outsider.  The tallest child in school.  The only black kid in the family/class/neighborhood.  The only kid who couldn't go to all the parties (although I know for sure that this wasn't a bad thing).  It was hard to watch all of my friends be asked to the prom and not have anyone ask me.  It was hard to be the only girl to not have a boyfriend.  I grew up feeling ugly, and I didn't shake that until I was in my 20's.  I'm mostly comfortable with my height by now.  But I can't stop feeling bad about my weight.  You know why?  Because Western culture tells me I should be a size 4.  I should have straight hair.  It should preferably be blond.  I should have straight white teeth and perfect skin.  I should be glamorous and delicate and wear make-up every day and my entire worth as a being is based on how many men find me attractive.  I've been beaten over the head with this since I was old enough to watch t.v.  And I wish that one of these advertising exec would look at just ONE longitudinal study about what this crap does to a child's self-esteem, and then think better of it.

Oh, and my fish died today too.  So...if you're still reading this post after all that heavy crap I've dropped on you, then you must not have had anything better to do with your day, lol.  You'll never get that 15 minutes of your life back ;)  Thanks for listening, and please please don't feel like you have to comment on this (unless you truly want to).  I just needed to get it out there.  I'll be looking for your invoices for services rendered in the mail (you know, for therapy...) lol.