in which I get down on my bad self
I'll start things off with a dream that I had last night, in which there was a very attractive woman, very like Cordelia from Buffy/Angel. We were at some function somewhere, and we seemed to have hit it off so I was trying to talk with her at a dinner table.
Suddenly she eats a mouthful of crackers, and spits the residue on me. I am stunned.
"Don't you get it?" she said. "I don't like you. I was just trying to be nice".
Last night I was playing with the camera, and I set it up in time-lapse mode to shoot a movie. I used myself as the subject because I was really the only thing actually moving in the apartment. I didn't really pay much attention because it was just testing the feature. I wasn't wearing a shirt-- heck I'm in my own apartment alone.
When I played it back, I saw myself and was horrified. I was grotesque. Floppy and saggy and bloated. And fucking huge. I had man-boobs. Ugly, saggy man-boobs.
I realize now that for Halloween, I should have just gotten naked and gone as Jabba the Hut.
I want to take a knife and cut out the bad parts.
Hey, I know that I should be able to love myself. I'm just not in love with myself.
(That bit of irony and sarcasm is brought to you by the letters '?' and '?'.)
There are a lot of things that I like about myself. My body isn't one of them. And that's a big thing not to like (pardon the unintentional pun). But now I have a very distinct understanding of where my sex drive has gone.
I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. I want to be virtual, and never have anyone have to see me ever again.
I want to be beautiful.
It's going to take me years just to not be grotesque.
Body image issues? Hey, no kidding. The vast majority of my issues revolve around body image. This goes way beyond insecurity, though having the breakup go the way it did certainly putted my psyche in this direction, like a near-miss asteroid causing a perturbation in planetary orbit that swerved my home planet into a black hole.
In case you didn't get it, I'm at a new low point.
I'm not trolling for pity here. I know that I have friends that love me regardless of what I look like, and I love you all for it. I'm really just trying to document my state of mind in a difficult period of my life, and get behind what is causing me so much pain and anguish.
Here are some things that you may not understand that may help enlighten you as to why I end up constantly being reminded of my body's grotesquerie:
I have a difficult time going up and down stairs because of damage to my knees.
I have to struggle to fit through a turnstile.
I can only see movies in certain theaters because the seats in many are too small to fit my huge ass into.
I break furniture.
I don't fit into an airline seat.
I don't fit in some office furniture.
I don't fit through some shower doors.
I can break toilets.
I had to remove the handrails on my stairways at home because I pulled them out of the walls.
I have to be careful in elevators. I have stalled more than one.
I can't bungee jump, scuba dive, or skydive.
I can't wear seat belts in most cars.
I can't take a bath in most bathtubs.
I can't ride on most amusement park rides.
I can tip over a doctor's exam table just getting on it.
I can't buy clothes that fit anywhere but a big & tall store-- and even then I can't get most things without special ordering.
I can't buy shoes in a regular shoe store.
I don't fit in some cars.
I can't weigh myself except on a cargo scale.
On the good side, I can crush the skulls of puny humans with one hand.
Christmas will be skimpy this year. I suppose it's a good year to be out of a relationship.
If I get the corpse finished in time, I'll dress him up in a Santa suit and chain him to the chimney with a bear trap. Ho-Ho-fucking-Ho.
Now if I could only find reindeer skeletons.