So I met myself today …

No, I don’t mean I found myself. Christ, Goddess without an existential crisis would be like Santa without a hard-on for elves. Sheesh.

I mean, I wandered into a store today and HOLY SHIT it was Goddess, circa age 22. Pudgy, pretty, hair all done up and makeup was GORGEOUS and dressed cute.

She was bouncy, just like I was. Greeted me and started a conversation. The light in her eyes could have powered Palm Beach County for a year.

I got an instant headache. I mean, where the hell did my sparkle go? Did she get it from me? GIVE IT BACK YOU HAPPY PLUS-SIZE LOVELY GIRL YOU.

I’m always happier when I’m trying to lose weight because there’s some element of being in control of ONE aspect of my life. But … I feel like I was happier when I just didn’t give a shit.

It was when I started noticing my size that it all went to pot. When I dared to think I was FABULOUS, fuck everyone else’s perception, I would actually be just fine.

And even now, I DO think I’m fabulous. I think most people want to be me. I am confident that people would kill to spend a day being me. It would floor me if they didn’t.

But then I was having a sad moment today and I thought, what if they really are sad for me? Or worse, what if they don’t feel bad for me at all but instead they think I am a piteous mess?

It was the fact that I couldn’t argue with the “piteous mess” part — i.e., well, aren’t I? — that killed me inside today.

I say this after I bought yet another party dress for a party that never seems to materialize.

This whole “living as if” shit that Law of Attraction disciples preach kills me. Clear out your closets for when your imaginary significant other materializes and moves in with you. Buy the size you want to be. Make a vision board of what you want your life to look like.

Dress and furnish and dream for the job/man/life you want.


Another party dress, another year gone by with nowhere to wear it.

And yes it’s in my current size. I aspire to have a reason to party this year, thanks.

I do have a party to attend tonight (not quite so formal as to suit this dress), but as always Prunella the Houseguest managed to make me feel like shit for having plans. She tells me I’m a martyr when I say fine, I’ll cancel like I always do. (Because I always do and it’s never because I don’t want to go.)

Prunella and Wal-Mart should not be kept apart if it’s one of the rare moments she’s feeling good enough to run errands.

Boundaries, can has?

Tell me how to live “as if” I were alive, and maybe you’ll meet the truly fabulous Young Goddess who really was something special.

I wish you’d all gotten to know her. Maybe you will someday. Maybe I just have to go suck that beautiful soul out of that lovely girl I met today and I’ll get her back …

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