I've got issues
Okay, so I decided I was going to start a blog, right? And I basically stated that this blog would include a lot of personal shit and innermost feelings. Right? Right. So, here goes.
I have issues. Not a lot, but some. Actually one in particular that eats at me every day. (No pun intended, as you will soon see). And maybe getting it out in writing will help me a little bit. Here goes nothing! I am obsessed with my weight. Truly. I really am. I try not to be, but that never works. I think about it probably as often as most guys think about sex. What is that, once every seven seconds? Yep. That's about right. And maybe putting it out there will help me put off therapy for another couple of months.
This is something I've been dealing with pretty much my whole life. My earliest memories are of me feeling fat and trying to find clothes to cover me up. Try to picture me in 9th grade: five-foot-two and about 90 pounds, wearing over-sized sweaters that covered me from my neck to just below my butt, and stirrup pants. I remember wearing such an outfit on one of my first dates ever. I was about sixteen, and we were going to Magic Mountain on a pretty hot day. I wore the sweater and leggings getup just to be sure no skin peeked through and he wouldn't know how fat I was. I was sweating like a pig the whole day. Pretty.
The older I got, the more vocal I became about it. My best friend Deena had finally convinced me to lose the lame clothes, so now I was wearing my brother's old jeans, cowboy boots, and little tops that showed my stomach. But even though my clothes said otherwise, I still thought I was fat and I said it all the time. "I'm so fat." "I wish I wasn't so fat." "If I wasn't so fat, I would be so much happier." I think this got pretty old, pretty fast. But I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. And once, when I was leaving a party, I heard a girl from inside say, "Lisa is such a bitch. She's so fucking skinny and she's constantly saying how fat she is. She needs so much attention!" I didn't know which was more powerful, hearing her call me a bitch, or hearing her say I was skinny. I was about twenty years old.
So, here I am now. I'm 33 years old, and things haven't gotten much better. Keep in mind, I'm around skinny actresses all the time. I know intellectually that I'm not a fat person. I just want to make that clear. But, my body is certainly not the tiny frame it was years ago-back when I was wasting all that time feeling fat. Now it's just harder to stay skinny. And I almost feel like there's this self-fulfilling prophecy happening. Like I'm being punished for not loving my healthy body more. And I'm aware of all of this! Doesn't this sound psycho? Like, I know I should love that I'm this perfect, healthy human. I can run and skip and do jumping jacks if I want. I can walk, and I have all my limbs, for goodness sake! That should be enough. And it is. I thank God for giving me health and strength every time I do something strenuous, including working out. But, much like the guy who can't get Heidi Klum out of his head, I swear I can't stop thinking about my butt, and my thighs, and the roll of fat I'm getting around my waist. And the older I get, the more it consumes me.
Even though I'm more confident now in a lot of ways, I am more tortured than ever with thoughts of my body. It's fucked up, man. And when I'm working out and in great shape, I think about how I'm going to screw it up. And then, when I ultimately DO screw it up, I go to bed every night thinking what a stupid failure I am.
There. I said it. And you know what? It probably all sounds so lame and self-indulgent. I know that. And still it's all I think about. I guess maybe I'm hoping someone who goes through the same thing will read this and feel better knowing that there are other idiots out there feeling the same thing. Or maybe someone has some advice, or will give me enough money to hire a life-time trainer and nutritionist. Which, by the way, I don't even need because I know what I have to do to be in the shape I want to be in! And, in case you're wondering, yes-I am happier when I fit into a smaller size. But I always sabotage that.
Wow. I'm going to shut up now.
Just one more thing. I started working out again today. It felt really good. I hope I can keep it up this time. And I hope I can be happy with maintaining a healthy body. I swear I'm going to try.
I have issues. Not a lot, but some. Actually one in particular that eats at me every day. (No pun intended, as you will soon see). And maybe getting it out in writing will help me a little bit. Here goes nothing! I am obsessed with my weight. Truly. I really am. I try not to be, but that never works. I think about it probably as often as most guys think about sex. What is that, once every seven seconds? Yep. That's about right. And maybe putting it out there will help me put off therapy for another couple of months.
This is something I've been dealing with pretty much my whole life. My earliest memories are of me feeling fat and trying to find clothes to cover me up. Try to picture me in 9th grade: five-foot-two and about 90 pounds, wearing over-sized sweaters that covered me from my neck to just below my butt, and stirrup pants. I remember wearing such an outfit on one of my first dates ever. I was about sixteen, and we were going to Magic Mountain on a pretty hot day. I wore the sweater and leggings getup just to be sure no skin peeked through and he wouldn't know how fat I was. I was sweating like a pig the whole day. Pretty.
The older I got, the more vocal I became about it. My best friend Deena had finally convinced me to lose the lame clothes, so now I was wearing my brother's old jeans, cowboy boots, and little tops that showed my stomach. But even though my clothes said otherwise, I still thought I was fat and I said it all the time. "I'm so fat." "I wish I wasn't so fat." "If I wasn't so fat, I would be so much happier." I think this got pretty old, pretty fast. But I couldn't help it. I really couldn't. And once, when I was leaving a party, I heard a girl from inside say, "Lisa is such a bitch. She's so fucking skinny and she's constantly saying how fat she is. She needs so much attention!" I didn't know which was more powerful, hearing her call me a bitch, or hearing her say I was skinny. I was about twenty years old.
So, here I am now. I'm 33 years old, and things haven't gotten much better. Keep in mind, I'm around skinny actresses all the time. I know intellectually that I'm not a fat person. I just want to make that clear. But, my body is certainly not the tiny frame it was years ago-back when I was wasting all that time feeling fat. Now it's just harder to stay skinny. And I almost feel like there's this self-fulfilling prophecy happening. Like I'm being punished for not loving my healthy body more. And I'm aware of all of this! Doesn't this sound psycho? Like, I know I should love that I'm this perfect, healthy human. I can run and skip and do jumping jacks if I want. I can walk, and I have all my limbs, for goodness sake! That should be enough. And it is. I thank God for giving me health and strength every time I do something strenuous, including working out. But, much like the guy who can't get Heidi Klum out of his head, I swear I can't stop thinking about my butt, and my thighs, and the roll of fat I'm getting around my waist. And the older I get, the more it consumes me.
Even though I'm more confident now in a lot of ways, I am more tortured than ever with thoughts of my body. It's fucked up, man. And when I'm working out and in great shape, I think about how I'm going to screw it up. And then, when I ultimately DO screw it up, I go to bed every night thinking what a stupid failure I am.
There. I said it. And you know what? It probably all sounds so lame and self-indulgent. I know that. And still it's all I think about. I guess maybe I'm hoping someone who goes through the same thing will read this and feel better knowing that there are other idiots out there feeling the same thing. Or maybe someone has some advice, or will give me enough money to hire a life-time trainer and nutritionist. Which, by the way, I don't even need because I know what I have to do to be in the shape I want to be in! And, in case you're wondering, yes-I am happier when I fit into a smaller size. But I always sabotage that.
Wow. I'm going to shut up now.
Just one more thing. I started working out again today. It felt really good. I hope I can keep it up this time. And I hope I can be happy with maintaining a healthy body. I swear I'm going to try.
posted by Lisa at 11:46 PM
4 Comments:
Lisa, Lisa, (insert Cult Jam joke here) ya gotta stop being so hard on yourself. You are stunningly beautiful, ok? Deal with it. I've been in crazy TV Love with you since the first time that I saw you on Mad TV. And I have great taste...so there. Thanks for the email reply a couple of weeks ago, by the way. This internet is a crazy thing eh? Even the biggest dork(s) in the world can email his or her favorite stars. Geez..maybe it's not such a great idea after all. Ugh.
All the best to you and your family!
Well, I'm not going to throw the "your skinny and beautiful" comment in here - I know that wasn’t the point of writing this. I know you're not fishing. And besides, today you might not look as beautiful as usual, so I’ll save it for a day when you do.
I also know what it's like to be obsessed, although it sounds like you are more obsessed than me, and ironically you look better than me and always have – probably always will.
As much as I hate to admit it - I don't think this one is ever going to get easier. It's too late. We were brought up in a “be skinny” environment where everyone was supposed to look perfect all the time, and it's still that way. God bless the 818.
It sucks. It just sucks. And yet - we all deal with it in our own way, and it's all relative, and it’s all the worst.
Look on the bright side... at least you don't ALSO have to be overly consumed with having more hair on your body than most farm animals!! Throw THAT one in to the mix and suddenly being fat means your body hair isn't as noticeable because it’s being spread out more. Do YOU own 75 different pairs of tweezers? One for each bag you use, your car, your desk drawer, your nightstand, etc…?
I’m not sure what's worse frankly; being a fat Jew or a hairy Armenian - but I love you either way. Thanks for spilling your guts. No pun intended.
ps - Fuck Tyra Banks and her fake fat suits she wears for her lame show to feel what it's like to NOT be a supermodel. That dumb fucking bitch.
ah well, we all have crosses to bear... but would it be mean of me to remind you that they say TV adds ten pounds?
actually, that's good news, 'cause you're too skinny.
Too skinny! HA! Nice try, though.
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