Im in a funk

Ive spent the past couple days painting an old dressing table my aunt gave me. I’ve been taking it slow. Just a little bit at a time. My brother helped by sanding it first and at the moment its still sitting on my porch half painted. It has this huge round mirror attached. Its pretty. I sort of hate it right now though.

I live in Texas so of course its oppressively hot already.  Which means, its tank top time. Which means that while Im sitting in front of this thing painting, I keep catching glances of myself in the mirror. Its the bright red that I keep catching out of the corner of my eye.

When you avoid mirrors and refuse to look at yourself when you undress, then self denial really can work.

These stretch marks aren’t going to go away though. They’re very deep. They are very red, and they are everywhere.  They stretch all the way across my arms, all the way to my elbows. Its the first time Ive seen them from straight on. Sometimes at night when I’m reading, and laying on my side, I can see them on the inside of my upper arm. I just pull my sleeve down more, and try to ignore it.

And its not just my arms. Its my legs. They’re all over my legs. They go as far down as my knees. Damnit! I asked and asked and asked to get off the stupid fucking pills! Damnit! ARG! I’m so angry right now. My stomach is covered. You’d think I just had a baby. My hips are disgusting. You can see where my skin was stretched too far.

I really thought I was doing well with all of this. I try not to care. I try not to be superficial. But I’m over 200 pounds now. And Ive never been over 135. And even if I lose the weight, Ill still have these marks all over my body.  Nobody wants to see that. I cant even look at it.

It took me years to become comfortable with my body. The whole time I was growing up I was always very self conscious. I was always really hard on myself. But I came to a point where I honestly became comfortable with myself, and actually came to like all the things about myself that I used to hate. My pale skin, and big butt. Freckles. I liked them. I liked the weight I was at.

And then all this shit. Even when my knees became permanently bent I was still optimistic. I still looked pretty good, right? Maybe I could meet someone who would look past that. I mean, eventually when Im well enough, and some had some insurance I’d be able to start physical therapy. Or eventually I’d be able to get knee replacements. Then people wouldn’t stare at me when I walked. I’d look normal again, and then maybe someone wouldn’t care about all my health issues if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious.

God, sometimes I just think….. I dont know. I just feel like I’ll be this way forever.

Yesterday, my little brother was sitting with me on the porch while I painted and we were chatting. He always cheers me up. Well, my little hooligan of a cousin came up with a couple of his friends. When they walked up onto the porch I heard one of them say “Ugh.” Now of course I have no idea what he was saying that for, but my brother had murder in his eye, and the little kid kept saying “I’m sorry man, I was just kidding. ” When I asked what they were talking about my brother just avoided my eye, and said nothing and changed the subject. My cousin asked him if he’d show his friends a few things on the guitar, and he told them to come tomorrow.  Now I have no reason to believe that the little 13 year old punk was talking about me, but thats where my mind immediately went. And I was sitting in front of this stupid giant mirror, and I could see why someone would say ugh to that. Poofy moon face. Stretch marks out for anyone to see.

I dont want to think about it anymore. Im going to go bury myself in a book, and try try try to get to sleep.  Insomnia is bad enough by itself. Having insomnia while in a funk is worse.

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