Aunt Flo fired her bullets but has once again left with her tail between her legs, meaning I can no longer ignore the need for Physical Inventory.
What is Physical Inventory, you ask? I'll tell you. It is standing in front of the mirror wearing just your birthday suit, solely to shitpick yourself from top to bottom, or bottom to top. Constructively! Always constructively. Don't just call yourself a cow and bawl, make sure to recognize the goods for what they are as well as the bads, and what needs to be done for the better.
So there I am, buck naked in front of my mirror (apologies to those who have recently seen me, clothed of course, and do not wish to imagine me any other way), and I have two general conclusions. The good news is, I have improved. The not so good news is, I have a lot more improving to do.
After general conclusions come specifics. Here goes.
At the bottom are my feet. Duh. They are large. Not freakishly so, but large enough that I cringe when asked my shoe size. In fact I'd rather tell you my weight, age and passport number instead of my shoe size.I have hated my feet for years and will continue to hate them for the rest of my life, but I do accept that it's not possible for a tall girl to have small feet. Really, I wouldn't be able to walk. I've also noted that I take better care of my feet in the summer then I do in the winter (sandal season), so note to self: if you're not going to get a pedicure anytime soon, pull out the foot file, shea butter and moisture socks.
My ankles. They are decent. They are also out of proportion from the infamous sprains of 2005 (see archives), but I have hope that summertime-ish, they will match once again.
Calves. Thanks Dad, for my well-built calves. I hate running and will have no love for it, ever, but my calves look like I've run several Boston marathons. They are quite shapely, if I can say so, and will look fantastic once I reach the ideal me, minimal exercise required.
Bypass knees, complete with second grade scars, and we reach my thighs. Ding ding ding! The Problem-O-Meter is on red! Now here is my second-most source of bodily embarassment, because this is where most of the weight goes. Not cottage-cheesy or dimpled in excess but man, we need work. Solution: target exercises, good eating, and it wouldn't hurt to loofah and try a celullite cream or two.
Butt, ahem, posterior, a.k.a. the bane of my existence. J-Lo ain't got nothin' on me. When I rake on pounds, my ass is where they first situate, and when I lose, it is where they are the last to leave. Because of this I lose weight trash-compactor style, meaning that it starts on my face and calves, and works down to my middle. For awhile I'll be completely off balance because my rear end is a size or two bigger than the rest of me. Go, glamour! Butt solutions: same as above. Target exercises, good eating, and move the loofah and creams north for maximum backside benefits.
Stomach. Up until a couple of years ago, I always had a flat stomach. Grant it I've never had a six-pack, but no matter how big the rest of me got, crazy weight never lived there. Enter The Pill and her buddies, 12lbs, and spare tire. I hated that tire. It wasn't a big one, but fuck, if I'm going to have an ass and thighs why the hell should I have the gut to match? On the bright side, when I said before that I'd improved, it was mostly in that area. The tire is now a junior hula hoop, and I'm confident it'll soon be gone. Solution in progress, keep doing what I'm doing and to speed things up, get Ab Fab, baby.
My chest. Sigh. I love my boobs. In my world they are perfect, a gracious B that makes lacy bras fabulous and fills out low cut tops oh so swimmingly. They don't get better than this. The bad news is, they're not here to stay. The last time I lost copious pounds I lost my chest too, demoting my breasts from lingerie model, to pre-teen gymnast. My gorgeous B's, beautiful, bouncy, bounteous, went down to, horror of horrors, an A. As in Amateur. Asinine. Acorns. I know that this is unavoidable and will happen again, but I'm not about to go down without a fight. Solution: the Miracle Bra. They don't call it "Miracle" for nothing, you know.
My arms match the rest of me: long, once lean, now a little out of shape. See above solutions. My neck is average, not short or long, and leads right to my face. Lately, she's looking a little tired, but that's nothing some sleep and meditation can't fix.
I like my face. Not to sound vain, but I think it suits me just fine. I have great lips (so I've been told), big green eyes on sunny days, and eyelashes to kill for (so I've been told). My waxer has said that of the thousands of eyebrows she's worked on, mine are the gorgeous-est (hey, I was told that too), and I've never worn braces because I have nice, straight teeth.
To end the Pretty Me party, I'm not too insane on my nose, but I think being slightly crooked gives it character. I have Oli and her right hook to thank for that, not to mention hundreds of sparring matches from the Taekwon-do lessons of our youth. And thanks again, Dad, for my right ear sticking out a tad more than my left, in the exact same way that yours do. When I was a kid I thought it kind of freaky, but now I don't mind so much.
My skin matches the rest of me. It's decent, but not radiant and glowing. Solution is definitely better eating, and some outside help never hurt either: face masks, a great cleanser and moisturizers, day and night. It will glow again.
And finally, on top of my head is my hair. Bushy and unmanageable when I was young, now my dark brown, sometimes black crowning glory of long curls. Gathered up and pinned back to not draw attention to my face, and the bone structure that's just a little hidden right now.
My hair wants to be free again. So do I. Solution: everything else. Inspire yourself from the inventory, and get to work.
Monday, February 27, 2006
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4 comments:
I see someone is moving...forward.
Or, doing her best to move forward. We'll see how far I get.
When do you come visit me to help set your hair free?
Do I get to give you a complimentary haircolour as a reward for living through your past month?
oh my god...you just stood naked in front of us in your blog. you are a brave, brave sister. truly. I raise my wine glass to you. you are a wonderful writer...i will be back often!! thanks for this big naked blog.
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