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Jun. 18th, 2014 03:31 pmDay eight is full of unconnected thoughts.
Unsurprisingly, getting pre-nap makeouts means when I wake up, I'm fantastically horny. Which combines oddly with the leftover emotional/physical crash of this morning. (I've found a way to make shower-crying even more tragic. Sitting on a teak stool in the shower because you can't stand up adds an air of pathos that really brings it over the top). But it balances out, because shaving is much easier sitting down. Every so often, in a fit of brilliance, I shave in such a way that I can actually have my glasses on while I do so, so even though the whole process is conducted mostly by sense of touch, there's something nice about having the added benefit of sight.
I hate shaving, I like having shaved legs. I am regularly guilty of starting to shave my legs and getting bored before I finish. But I am so warm and uncomfortable in this cast that I thought maybe shaving would help. Jury's still out.
I felt a burst of last-minute social earlier and sent out a couple emails. If you are also feeling a burst of social and want to try to help me reacclimate to polite society, speak up. I'm free tomorrow night and all of Friday and since I cannot bake to soothe myself over Abundance's departure (gah, I feel so greedy about being sad that he's leaving, even when I know it's best for him to do so) I welcome the distraction. Or suggestions of netflix/hulu series to devour.
I'm going to a Delta Rae show tonight, at the same venue Abundance and I saw Postmodern Jukebox. I'm very bad at exploring new venues and new bands, or at least I think I am, so having become familiar with another venue feels like winning, going to see two bands I've never seen live feels like winning, and small road trips to go to concerts with Abundance feels like winning. I believe I'm bad at explaining exactly what it is I get out of live music, so I want to show everyone who is important to me what it's like, what I'm like when it's happening. Now I just need to make sure I take Delight to a not-Peter Mulvey concert at some point.
However, going out makes me want to dress up. And then I remember how unfortunate my feelings towards my body are at the moment and get a little stuck. I haven't been able to pick out frames for like six months because I become truculent at the idea of having to look at my face (and I can't get anything online because my prescription doesn't include things like pupillary distance). I don't wear my fitbit anymore because it's depressing to know that I can barely manage a quarter mile of walking. I'm not going to the gym, I'm hungry all the time and pretty much the only time I feel good about being in a meatsuit is when someone is snuggling or having sex with me. So, dressing up becomes a careful cultivating of the knife edge between despair and defiance. And now I can't even wear fishnets.
And I know some of it is the injury talking, and some of it is the subsequent ungainliness. Deep down (and on the surface) I assume that the only reason I injure myself is because I'm graceless, and the only reason I'm graceless is because I'm overweight and out of shape, so it is in fact my fault that I broke my foot. Which feeds back into the cycle, because now I'm even less coordinated and can't exercise, I feel even more out of shape, which makes me more aware of my lack of coordination. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But i'm going to buy a tshirt that says "I'm pretending my workout is the patriarchy so I can crush it" and hopefully i'll feel as motivated by it when I can actually have workouts as I do now. Also, I'm getting pretty close to snapping and buying a bunch of temporary tattoos off of etsy.
Unsurprisingly, getting pre-nap makeouts means when I wake up, I'm fantastically horny. Which combines oddly with the leftover emotional/physical crash of this morning. (I've found a way to make shower-crying even more tragic. Sitting on a teak stool in the shower because you can't stand up adds an air of pathos that really brings it over the top). But it balances out, because shaving is much easier sitting down. Every so often, in a fit of brilliance, I shave in such a way that I can actually have my glasses on while I do so, so even though the whole process is conducted mostly by sense of touch, there's something nice about having the added benefit of sight.
I hate shaving, I like having shaved legs. I am regularly guilty of starting to shave my legs and getting bored before I finish. But I am so warm and uncomfortable in this cast that I thought maybe shaving would help. Jury's still out.
I felt a burst of last-minute social earlier and sent out a couple emails. If you are also feeling a burst of social and want to try to help me reacclimate to polite society, speak up. I'm free tomorrow night and all of Friday and since I cannot bake to soothe myself over Abundance's departure (gah, I feel so greedy about being sad that he's leaving, even when I know it's best for him to do so) I welcome the distraction. Or suggestions of netflix/hulu series to devour.
I'm going to a Delta Rae show tonight, at the same venue Abundance and I saw Postmodern Jukebox. I'm very bad at exploring new venues and new bands, or at least I think I am, so having become familiar with another venue feels like winning, going to see two bands I've never seen live feels like winning, and small road trips to go to concerts with Abundance feels like winning. I believe I'm bad at explaining exactly what it is I get out of live music, so I want to show everyone who is important to me what it's like, what I'm like when it's happening. Now I just need to make sure I take Delight to a not-Peter Mulvey concert at some point.
However, going out makes me want to dress up. And then I remember how unfortunate my feelings towards my body are at the moment and get a little stuck. I haven't been able to pick out frames for like six months because I become truculent at the idea of having to look at my face (and I can't get anything online because my prescription doesn't include things like pupillary distance). I don't wear my fitbit anymore because it's depressing to know that I can barely manage a quarter mile of walking. I'm not going to the gym, I'm hungry all the time and pretty much the only time I feel good about being in a meatsuit is when someone is snuggling or having sex with me. So, dressing up becomes a careful cultivating of the knife edge between despair and defiance. And now I can't even wear fishnets.
And I know some of it is the injury talking, and some of it is the subsequent ungainliness. Deep down (and on the surface) I assume that the only reason I injure myself is because I'm graceless, and the only reason I'm graceless is because I'm overweight and out of shape, so it is in fact my fault that I broke my foot. Which feeds back into the cycle, because now I'm even less coordinated and can't exercise, I feel even more out of shape, which makes me more aware of my lack of coordination. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But i'm going to buy a tshirt that says "I'm pretending my workout is the patriarchy so I can crush it" and hopefully i'll feel as motivated by it when I can actually have workouts as I do now. Also, I'm getting pretty close to snapping and buying a bunch of temporary tattoos off of etsy.
