She’s a woman that often takes the same train I do. Not a small woman, in fact she would easily be my size, but she is gorgeous! I don’t know what it is about her, but I feel a mixture of awe and envy every time I see her.
To me, she just looks perfect. I am not sure what colour her eyes are (hazel, I think, but I can’t be sure) but they are framed by a lovely pair of gold/platinum coloured glasses that suit the shape of her face. Her hair is straight and chestnut coloured with a splash of red underneath. It falls down past her shoulders with a little flick on the ends.
Her skin is so clear and she wears very little makeup that I can see, and she’s graceful in all her movements which surprises me. I always thought larger girls would be more clumsy, I certainly am. This girl looks so comfortable in her own skin, like she takes everything in her stride and doesn’t worry about too much. I’ve never seen her smile, but I bet it is brilliant
I‘m so envious. Why can’t I be like that? Why do I care what people think with every breath that I take. Why is it that I constantly feel like I have done something wrong and that I need to apologise for it? I always feel like I am somehow less than everyone else. Even when I am in my element, like at work when I know when I am doing, I still feel like a failure. Even now, I can’t seem to find the words to explain exactly how I feel… it is like I am skirting around the problem without actually getting to the core. Stupid brain.
And my hair!! Why the hell can’t I get my hair like this mysterious woman’s without spending hours with a straightener and a truck load of product. AND! More to the point, why do I have to sweat so much when the temperature reaches one degree above freezing that drips form and slide down the back of my head into my collar. Even if I did manage to get my hair right, it wouldn’t stay that way long, the droplets turning my hair into a lacklustre stringy concoction, looking like it hasn’t been washed in at least a year.
I am so jealous. My skin is horrible. A mixture of Rosacea and time has ravaged my face, turning it into a feature that Rudolph would aspire to own. I had freckles once… well maybe I still do, but the redness and the blue/black smudges under my eyes hide them. I usually don’t wear makeup because my sweating would send it running down to my knees. If I actually did manage to get some on, I’d have to put on half a ton with a trowel just to hide my scarlet features.
Seriously, I have no idea what my beloved sees in me sometimes. I’m fat, flabby, lumpy and I have what he calls a “burlap” It’s that fold of fat/skin people have around their abdomen when they have a lot of weight there… like a huge skin fold. He calls me sexy and gorgeous, but I just can’t believe him. I certainly can’t see it. I guess it is one of the reasons I want to lose weight and get healthier… I want to feel the words he sees.
Anyway, let’s not be too maudlin. I have my weigh/measure in two days, that’s enough to make anyone go stir crazy.
By the by, this afternoon I ate a whole Fry’s Turkish Delight in my stressed out mood and felt rather sick…. Must capture this feeling in my mind so I won’t do it again…