Three decades of life will do that to you...
Mood:  amorous
Now Playing: My New Philosophy -- from "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"
It's flattering. I get told all the time that I can't possibly be my age. Despite the disbelief, it's true. I'm 29. Nearly 30. And I've got proof. I noticed a new set of lines on my face today. My forehead is finally showing the results of years of eyebrow raising. Maybe I should have kept some of those quizzical looks to myself. And last month, just an hour before the wedding of one of my best friends, my hairdresser told me she'd found a grey hair. I nearly cried. It was a hard day already. I love my friend, and her husband's awesome for her, so I was thrilled for them, of course, but the wedding took place only two months after the man I thought would one day be my husband had disappeared, and it took serious effort to prevent myself from being consumed by self-pity. And there I was, just an hour before the ceremony, being told that I wasn't getting any younger or more attractive.

And what if getting older is the biggest reason I can't lose weight the way I did a few years ago? The summer of '01, I lost about sixty pounds, courtesy of "Protein Power" and a lot of willpower. Maybe I lack willpower these days. Something's changed. I've tried everything, it seems, and I just feel fatter. In actuality, I'm still much lighter than I was back then. I've become more obsessed. I love my personality and my intelligence and even parts of my body (like my hands or feet), but I'm growing increasingly unhappy with my weight, even as it decreases.

Part of the problem is the weight loss itself. I didn't like my appearance, so I lost weight. Losing weight reduced the small breasts I had to begin with, and left me with hanging skin. Yeah, I know. You don't want to think about it. I don't want to look at it! It's hideous! I'd almost rather be fat(ter) again. I'm extremely self-conscious of the skin, especially in my thigh area. I refuse to get naked in the light. I believe this is for the good of all mankind.

So, I'm getting wrinkled, grey, and fatter. I'm mostly okay with getting older, really. It's barely noticable. But if some hairdresser reminds me again, she's fired.