Monthly Archives: July 2013

I’m a Picker and a Puller

As I wrote out my title, I was singing that Steve Miller song, The Joker, in my head.  However, this post is not about music.  It’s about some issues that became clear this week.

I see both a psychiatrist and a psychologist.  They work out of the same office, but unfortunately, due to health insurance restrictions, I can’t see both on the same day.  On Monday this week, I saw my psychiatrist.  On Tuesday, I saw the psychologist.

Patients at this office fill in a sheet prior to each visit.  The sheet has a list of symptoms, (depression, anxiety, hopelessness, etc.), and a ratings scale.  At the top of the sheet, is a code representing the patient and some numeric codes, corresponding to the patient’s diagnoses.  So, imagine my surprise, when I picked up my sheet on Tuesday, and there was a new diagnosis.  My psychiatrist had added obsessive compulsive disorder to my list.  It was a surprise to me because although I have been showing some O.C.D. symptoms recently, I didn’t think these symptoms (which I shall soon discuss) would qualify me for a diagnosis of O.C.D.

Have you ever heard of Tweezerman tweezers?  They’re super sharp and are hand-filed. When you purchase a pair, the company promises that you can send the tweezers back to them and the company will sharpen the tweezers for free.  They are pricey ($22), but in my opinion, totally worth it.  They are fantastic and I won’t buy any other tweezers.  TweezermanBut this post isn’t about tweezers, or beauty tools, or beauty of any kind.  This post is about what led to my newest diagnosis.  About two weeks ago, I began plucking again.  When I was in middle school or high school (I can’t quite remember when), I would use dull tweezers to yank out the hairs on the inside of my lower legs.  More recently, my mother told me that when I was in pre-school, the teacher told my mother that I would sit and scratch myself until I bled.

Approximately three weeks ago, I pulled out my tweezers and started yanking out ingrown hairs on the inside of my lower legs once again.  This time, it’s a combination of dermatillomania (compulsive skin-picking) and trichotillomania (compulsive hair-pulling).  You may find the next part gross, so I’ve hidden it, but you can read the text if you select it.   I can’t explain it, but I get such satisfaction out of digging into my skin with the sharp point of my tweezers, finding the dark line of a new hair, and yanking it out.  It is especially satisfying for me, when the hair I pull out has a wet bulb attached.  And of course, once a scab has covered the wound, I just have to pick it off.

It’s crazy, I don’t know why I do it. I can become so fixated on getting those hairs out. I’ll be sitting, maybe in front of the computer or the TV, and I’ll just grab my tweezers. And once I start, I keep telling myself that I need to stop because I’ve made such a mess of my legs, but then, I’ll see another hair, and I just have to dig and pluck. I’ve found that I lose track of time doing this. The other day, I did it for 45 minutes when I could have been doing something productive.

I’ve linked to the picture of my legs, because I realize that some readers will be disgusted. And I agree and understand, my legs are disgusting.  But I promise, I’m not posting this to gross readers out, I’m posting this because I want to find people with similar experiences.

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The Skank/Self-Esteem Connection and What Determines Attraction?

Before I get into my topic, I’d like to first make a statement.  Do you know how certain words can be nearly synonymous yet have very different meanings in context?  For example: slut, hoe, whore, and skank.  I choose to use the word, “skank”, as opposed to the more vulgar- sounding “slut”.  Have you ever noticed how much anger and hatred is behind “slut”?  From this point forward, I vow to never use the word “slut” in any posts.  If I do use it, call me out on it, please.

Now on to the topics at hand.  In my previous post, I wrote briefly about my mistake of gauging a man’s date-worthiness based upon his appearance.  And what a mistake it was! To bring you up to speed, I recently received a message to my online dating profile from a good-looking, hot-bodied man.  I had my doubts in this man but I chose to ignore them because he was attractive.  Against my better judgement, I gave him my number so we could text. Mind you, this was after we’d exchanged around five one-sentence messages between us.  Hence, my first error.

His second text to me, after the obligatory “hellos”, was “Are you thick with big boobs?”  This was my second indication that he wasn’t such a nice guy.  However, I continued texting him, (mistake #2) although I did write that he didn’t seem to want what I want (a relationship), to which he responded something along the lines of, “you don’t know me, how do you know what I want?” His angry comment made me feel like a jerk, so I apologized for doubting his intentions. Thus, my third error.

After texting for about two hours, (which was mostly him asking about my boobs and my “booty”), he suggested conversing via webcam.  I agreed to this, making it mistake number four.  I put on a little makeup, signed in, and we connected.  He asked me to show him my cleavage and I complied, error #5.  But when he asked me to take my top off, I finally made the right decision and told him that I didn’t feel right doing this and our conversation was kaput.

Now that little story up there does have a point and is relevant to my title.  After the interaction with this man (I’ll call him James), the first thing that came to mind was “How do I always meet men that don’t want a relationship?”  This question led to my next question, (as well as part of the title) “What determines attraction?”

Maybe it has happened to you, you tend to meet people who share similar personality traits, goals, flaws, etc. like they are all cut from the same cloth.  This is my case, I often meet men who aren’t interested in anything more than hooking up.  But why does this happen?  What about me attracts a man who isn’t into a relationship?  And of course, what is it that attracts me to men who aren’t into relationships?  I don’t have the answers and I’m not quite sure where to find them.

This leads me to the other portion of the title.  As mentioned in the last paragraph, I tend to be attracted somehow, to men who aren’t into anything serious, despite the fact that I desire a serious, loving, long-term relationship.  I am ashamed to say that in my dating past, I would give into my partner’s needs, while ignoring my own.  I would jump into bed too fast hoping for a relationship to happen. I’ll admit it, I could be skanky.

Over ten years ago, I lost my virginity on a first date.  I told myself that I just wanted to not be a virgin anymore.  Never in my life had I imagined this monumental event to happen like this. I pictured romance and “I love yous” being declared.  I don’t regret it, I’m just ashamed to admit that I behaved in this way.  This was the beginning of my skanky lifestyle (or so I thought).

I didn’t hook up with a new guy every night.  My number isn’t high, it’s less than ten.  But I did tend to rush into things with several men.  Whether it was a one-night-stand, making out with a stranger at the bar, or letting some guy I just met touch my boobs.  I did all sorts of things to get guys to like me.

This is where self-esteem enters the picture.  I’m not sure what other women would think, but I believe my self-esteem is connected to my intimate behavior.  I need to feel wanted and I need to please a man to get that adoration from him.  It’s reassuring to know that a man is interested in me and oftentimes, its his attraction that makes me feel worth it.

Though, truthfully, the majority of these men weren’t interested in me.  They preyed on my vulnerability and most-likely, could sense my need for validation.  I hate the fact that a man’s opinion of me can still hold such high-standing in my life.  I hate the fact that I can’t respect myself enough to not go too far with a new man.  But I must say, that I am proud of myself for not showing my breasts online to James the Jerk.  And I suppose it’s a start, it’s showing that I’m headed in the right direction.

For the future, if I ever do get a date again, I want him to earn my sexuality.  I want him to get to know me first, to really appreciate and care about me and my feelings.  I want to respect myself and I want my partner to respect me as well.  Most of all, I really want to experience sex and love together.  I’ve never had that pleasure and I am so intrigued about the connection that must be felt when making love to a man who cares as opposed to a man who just doesn’t want to leave the bar alone.  With any luck, I’ll be able to experience my dream.

I Am So Disappointed in Myself

Guess what I realized today?  You know in cartoons, when a character has a light bulb illuminate over his/her head?  Well, today it came to me.  I don’t need to lump all of my ideas from one day into one post.  It is possible, and makes more sense, to separate posts by topic. Whoa!  My mind is blown!

On to the topic at hand.  I have a confession to make: I’m shallow.  I had always thought of myself as open-minded. A little over one week ago, I realized that that is not the case.  Against my better judgement (I intend to use that phrase frequently and from now on, will abbreviate it as AMBJ), I have been visiting a couple of free dating sites.  I got a notification on my phone last Friday that someone had written to me, and I was surprised to see that he was a good-looking guy with a great body!  Guys like that never message me!

After seeing him on the mobile app, I decided to go to the full site and check out his message.  He had several punctuation and spelling mistakes (a big no-no for me), but AMBJ, I decided, “Oh, what the Hell? He’s cute”, and so, I responded to him.  Thus, I am a shallow, shallow person.

You see, I would never tolerate English language abuse from anyone mediocre, but because this man was attractive and built, I figured, these traits will make up for his grammatical issues.  Lo and behold, it wasn’t just grammar issues that plagued this man,  but I’ll discuss that experience later.  This article I read, especially point number four, really sums it up.

One point that the article makes, is that online dating prevents you from actually being able to interact with someone face-to-face, and maybe get to know him/her before passing judgement.  The sad truth is, at least when it comes to online dating, looks do matter.

For instance, I will not look at a profile without a picture.  I can remember, probably in the early 2000s,  when online dating sites had the option to send in a photograph to the company and the site would scan and post your photo to your profile.  With so many technological advantages occurring within this young century, surely, an online dater can figure out a way to post a picture of himself to his profile.  There is no excuse for a person not to have a picture.  So it always makes me wonder, if he doesn’t have a picture posted, what is he hiding?

It’s awful to think like that, but truthfully, I’m left wondering why.  Is he severely disfigured? Is his picture a mugshot? Is he underage?  Looks matter, physical appearance is the first thing one sees when scoping out a partner.  Unfortunately, looks don’t indicate a man’s trustworthiness, sense of humor, intelligence, and all of those characteristics that add to a man’s appeal.  It’s a shame that we can’t see those traits immediately when browsing for a date online.  I guess I need to look deeper.

 

 

This Upcoming Week Is Critical to My Success

Today I weighed in.  I gained 3.8 pounds.  In one week.  I feel gross.  After my disappointing weigh-in, I immediately imagined my trip to Super Walmart post-meeting, and what kinds of junk food I could purchase to binge on.  And earlier, I did just that.  I binged on a pint of Ben & Jerry’s “Mint Chocolate Cookie”, homemade tacos, and Smooth and Minty Melty Mints (or whatever they’re called).

The fact that they’re pastel makes them taste even more delicious!

This is classic behavior for me.  I put so much effort into my weight loss and then I get hungry or I feel deprived, and my effort all goes to shit.  It’s why I’m fat.  I was really off to a good start this time around.  I’ve lost more weight than I have in 5 years and I was getting compliments and clothes were fitting better and I just gave up.  Now, I’m back to having lost less than 20 pounds.  It was so important for me to lose those first 20 pounds.

That’s why it is so crucial that for the rest of this week, I really stick to the plan and do my tracking and exercise, even if it kills me.  And it is going to be tough.  I’m very certain of this.  I’m working tomorrow evening and after that, I have two weeks of freedom.  When my life isn’t structured (ie. when I’m not working), it is so much easier for me to forget the big picture.  I have no set schedule for anything, including dining.  When I’m not working, I can reach into those cupboards whenever I feel like it and grab something that may not be the best choice.

I am so worried.  I can’t give up.  I’ve done it so many times in the past.  I have all these dreams of what life will be like when I’m not an ogre.  Of course, I really don’t know if anything I picture will come true, but I do believe that if I’m normal-sized, certain scenarios will be more likely to become reality.  I like to imagine that when I’m normal, I’ll have more confidence, I’ll be able to have a relationship, I’ll be able to shop in the misses’ (or possibly, juniors’), department.

I’m 31, I’m running out of time to achieve my goals.  I hope I can survive and thrive during this week.

 

 

More Praise for Blogilates!

If you’ve read some recent posts of mine, you may have noticed that I’ve mentioned Blogilates a few times.  I really cannot say enough about this website.  Cassey Ho, the young woman who runs this blog seems to really care about her followers.  I’ll admit, the first minute I caught of a Pop Pilates video turned me off. You see, Cassey, is ultra-enthusiastic and super-perky.  For a chronic pessimist such as myself, it seemed a bit much.  But, after visiting her website and actually watching some of her videos, I’ve really grown to like her.

In fact, I realized that I am probably a bit jealous of this woman. I envy her determination and her seemingly non-stop positive attitude! It’s obvious that she is very dedicated to her readers and really wants others to live healthy and to gain confidence.  Today, while perusing her blog, I found this post and I actually started to cry.  Since fifth grade, when I first noticed that I was overweight, I’ve thought of myself as less of a person.  It’s distressing to think that now,  girls in elementary school believe the same thing about themselves.

I’m sharing this post with you because if you are like me, you probably need a pick-me-up, a bit of encouragement, once in awhile.

A Milestone Week Despite Some Setbacks

This week I reached a small milestone…I lost 1.6 pounds and I am now under 220 pounds (99.8 kg)!  This is really big and important to me.  For the past 4½ years, my weight has lingered around the 230-250 area.  Approximately 5 years ago, I made a big move back home (after living by myself in another state for a year).  The move was necessary to retain my sanity, yet it took a toll on my physical health.  I won’t go into any more details, but that is when my weight began to climb.  This milestone I reached today makes me feel that once again, I am headed in the right direction, I just need to get other areas of my life straightened out.

I am proud to say that I am continuing to follow the blogilates website and workout calendar and I am feeling a little bit stronger in performing some of the moves.  My next step forward, in achieving a healthy lifestyle, will be to return to the Y.  I continue to may my expensive membership fee, but I’m not going.  The truth is, I’m scared.  I know it’s irrational, but I am afraid that I will start working out and the gym-rats around me will all laugh at me.  I can admit this because I did a search and discovered that other people are afraid of this as well.  I’m going to keep trying to push myself to return and I know someday it’ll happen.  It would be so beneficial to be around other people.

It’s obvious that everything hasn’t been all “peachy-keen”.  There’s actually an issue that’s been bothering me for several weeks, and I just haven’t felt like bringing it up.  It’s regarding Steve again, so if you don’t want to listen to me whine about the-one-that-got-away, I totally understand, you can quit reading now.

Back in March or February of this year, Steve posted on my Facebook timeline about an event, he wrote “I thought of you” with a link to said event.  For months, I’d been hoping he’d contact me to invite me to go with him.  He never contacted me, so I figured, he’s so busy, he probably can’t go.  So, on the night of the event, I went on Facebook like usual, and lo-and-behold, my newsfeed shows a status update from him about the event.

Needless to say, I was very upset.  I’ve been with him to similar events before, he couldn’t have just invited me.  I immediately felt that feeling, like a punch in the gut, that I get whenever I feel slighted.  I didn’t expect him to hurt me like that, but I know I should expect it, he’s not the same person I knew several years ago.  I cannot wait until I lose 60 pounds (my halfway point).  I’m going to put a picture on Facebook of my progress and hopefully, he’ll feel regret for not keeping in touch with me.  But of course, I often fantasize about the way I want things to go and when it actually happens, it doesn’t pan out like I’d hoped.

I’d like to end this post in a positive/funny way.  Today I went to a department store and purchased some typical household items (shampoo, sunscreen, etc.) and some personal lubricant.  Yes, I admit it, I purchased tingling lubricant, figuring it’d just be a quick buy and the cashier would scan it and just throw it in the bag, not paying much attention to my purchases.  The cashier scanned my items, I payed.  Then, when she handed me the bag, she said “Have fun!”  I have to wonder what she meant by that.  Was she telling me to enjoy my lube?

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