I grew up a very skinny kid. Now, I just noticed I've used the word "skinny" twice in the last two sentences, so I thesaurus-ed it just now. Let's see... there's scraggy, angular, rawboned, skeletal, "looking like a bag of bones", and (probably in Shakespearean-talk) spindle-shanked. I'm particularly drawn to "skeletal" because it makes me giggle like a stupid little dunce, so let's use that in my rephrase.
I grew up a very skeletal kid (LOL). I think at one point, when I was 12, I was only 70lbs. Plus, that was the time in my life when my dad would call me a Sasquatch because the tips of my fingers would come down to my knees. (MY LIMBS GREW FASTER THAN MY TORSO, SO WHAT, WANNA FIGHT?!) So imagine how gross I looked, all skeletal (LOL) and long and awkward. Not cool. Although, I do give myself props for still managing to attract a few lesbian admirers in school despite my badly miscalculated Sailor Moon-like proportions. That's what you call swag, brah. 'Sup.
I was wrong.
Along came adulthood. My adolescent metabolism's gears slowed, and my kaing-marino started to take its toll. Being naturally cheeky, I first started seeing the weight gain in my face in pictures. Then I started debating with myself if my jeans were shrinking in the laundry, or if my ass was growing. I couldn't believe it at first, but, I was starting to put on weight... and too much of it.
The heaviest I've ever been in my life was 118lbs, and I managed to trim that down to a comfortable 113. Even though I was never able to get back to eating like a dock worker, I was at least able to get into my pants without having to wriggle. See, my body is stupid. It thinks the only places to store fat in are my face and my ass. I'd love for some boob allocation, really, but I guess things don't work that way around here.
Here comes my work on camera and on TV. You know that saying, "The camera adds 10 pounds"? IT'S TRUE. You have to be extra thin, to look just right on camera. In this line of work, the standard really is skeletal. For a foodie like me, it's daily torture to try to eat as little carbs as possible, passing on dessert, and always having to scrutinize nutrion labels and to count calories. Only thing about all this maintenance that I like is working out, but at the end of the day, I think about the good old days. Back when a full meal didn't come with a side order of guilt and a promise to run 4 kilometers the next day.
I hope my motto, "Nothing worth having ever came easy," doesn't wear me out!
Ugh. What a depressing entry. Let's go look at porn. Food porn, that is. Grab a box of tissue for your drool and check out www.prettygirlfood.com. It's one of my most favorite online haunts... and source of late night cravings. HA! Good luck.