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...
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not *even* internalized. my mother asked me the other day what the deal was with my generation making a return to the girdle -- i.e., spanx. i forget where she said she heard about them, but in her words, "my generation was more than happy to discard them so what's the deal with you guys?" mind you, she's not exactly the epitome of the fuck-all-your-beauty-standards mentality (i once caught her dividing a banana in half after i remarked that the bananas she buys are gigantic) but she has a definite point about spanx. i've worn them a couple times for formal events at which i was wearing a form-fitting dress, but i've decided never again. those things are a bitch to get on. feels like vacuum packing.
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