thinspo of the day!God.
I came up with a fuckload of diet plans this year and never had the time or discipline to stick to them. Then I just get pissed off.
I'm seeing my family in like exactly ten days from now and I'm not any thinner than four years ago. Which sucks. Because we're Chinese and asians are always fucking skinny and I'm not.
I've always said it's being happy with yourself that counts, and if this gets caught on my blog then it won't be too long before I get screamed at because being an ambassador of Big Is Gorgeous also requires you to believe that Big IS Gorgeous.
It's not that I don't, to be honest. But it's difficult if for the whole month that you're with your extended family, you've got your Grandma making passing comments about you.
The things about asians, Chinese in particular, is that among other things that they don't know how to say (like excuse me, how's your day and I'm sorry this person is currently unavailable), they also don't know how to ask about the weather.
The weather is a most interesting topic indeed and can probably take up the first ten minutes of meeting someone in a long while. After that, you move on to topics about the weather in other countries.
"Gosh! Isn't global warming an absolute bitch?" You could say, "In fact, Grizzly bears are starting to migrate north and mate with Polar Bears! Just the other day, a friend told me about how he read about someone shooting something that looked like a Polar bear from afar but actually wasn't!" "No way!" The person would reply, dumbfounded. "Yes way! It was a crossbreed!"
(ps: This story is true)
My point is, I find it baffling how Chinese people have replaced "HELLO! WHERE'VE YOU BEEN FOR THE LAST TWO YEARS?!" with
"WAH, YOU PUT ON A LOT OF WEIGHT AH, NOW SO FAT."
For a race that is supposedly shy and demure and quiet and all for frowning at fellow Chinks who scream with laughter, they DO NOT mince words. Nor are they ashamed about it in the least!
So what if she's ana, bulimic, half dead with lack of nutrition? As long as she's out of that now and is skinny as a fucking fiddle, that's alright. And if she's not, lets blame the mom. It must be the mother's fault for doing such a bad job.
It was quite fantastic, really. Four years ago, my mother (she would never do this, but she did) finally shot back at my grandmother telling her I was bulimic when my granny went on one of those nag sessions about needing to be skinny. I love my grandmother to absolute bits and she dotes on us like crazy, BUT she blamed my mom for it.
I know of a family member who made herself a bracelet with "fatty" beaded into it until she lost weight. That worked.
Another one, from France, I was told used to be very fat and that "I was just like her."
Well the last time she went over to LA she was anorexic and weighed 90 pounds. But then, "Oh you could see her collar bones! SO NICE!" (My granny said something equivolent to this) I discreetly reached up to feel my own collarbones and said, "oh"
Going from a 130 lbs in primary six (when I looked like a ball of dork) to 110 lbs a while later, felt like an achievement. (actually, it still does now.) But even while I was over in LA, I was still trying to drop two pounds here and there. I did by the way, my, wasn't I pleased.
I used to be rather sensitive about this issue. We were in Florida at this fantastic Texan Ribs Restaurant, where of course, the ribs were fantastic. My grandfather, darling as he is, leaned over when I was close to finishing my feast and said to me in cantonese, "if you want to lose weight, don't eat all that, eat the veggies!" I looked up at him and nodded blankly, before going to the toilet and promptly throwing up all thirty dollars worth of ribs and crying for feeling weak.
It wasn't just for the weight, to be honest. It was sort of about control too. It takes control and discipline to not eat for three and a half days (that's the longest I went). And there must be some kind of ability award going to me for throwing up what I DIDN'T eat. Or like, the skin of the apple or something. I threw up when I was angry or sad and then after that went jogging. Or when I felt overwhelmed by whatever there was, like not being good enough, not singing well enough, not being perfect enough to be a prefect or a monitress, I would just throw up more, eat less and exercise more.
My hunger pangs gave me this unbelievable euphoria and it made me feel like i could do stuff.
Fuck that, I felt like fucking superwoman.
It made me feel really good about myself.
Especially when someone went on to me about my weight and how I was "such a pretty beautiful girl like my mother" and I would be "so much more beautiful if I wasn't so fat."
I gave them a smile, the smile that kids give to people who tell them they're stupid and worthless. The smile that says, "You'll see, I'll be your fucking president."
Yea well, my smile said, "You'll see, I'll be skinny and it'll be for ME not for you and your smelly breath which reeks of food. Because I'm the one with control! muahahahhaha."
One thing I love about the whole thing though, was that I did it for myself and not for anyone else. I would've hated myself had I gone on this rampage for someone else.
I think this brings me back to being happy with yourself.
Because you'll never be "just the right size" for anyone.
You're either too fat or too skinny and the solution for that is always to chuck you into some kind of camp to brainwash you.
So yes, I'm really happy with myself.
In fact, I'm happy with myself BECAUSE I'm happy with myself.
I'm not a foodie, but I don't mind eating. And if I feel like it, I'll be totally honest, I'll throw up.
Whatever makes me feel comfortable, I think.
That's what I call healthily unhealthy.
Though Christ, I've got to be mad.
And I realized, this is the first time I've talked about this so candidly and in such (possibly unwanted) detail.
That must mean we're getting somewhere(:
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