I had a dream the other night where I stepped on the scale and I was four whole pounds heavier than normal. And I flipped.
In dreams I'm usually as logical as ever. I knew that four pounds, from 118 to 122, was not a big deal at all. Even in my dream my clothes fit the same, and I looked the same in the mirror. And yet, I was terrified. Of what I can't say.
However, in the realm of progress, I'm starting to get really annoyed with my body. In a healthy way. I don't like that I can't buy skinny jeans (on me, see, they're just jeans). I used to be overjoyed that I could feel my hip bones, and now they're just starting to bother me. I'm starting to feel as if I should have some more covering. That maybe being tiny, contained, corseted by my own self-control rather than an external girdle isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I once thought about writing a paper on the corset, and how it's become internalized by this diet culture. That's a really good idea for a paper. Maybe I'll start outlining it when I'm on the plane. If only I was in grad school...