I, Me, My.
Jul. 15th, 2005 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxI found a stretchy tape measure. I measured myself. 33-22-33. I wondered when my waist shrunk an inch. Oh, yes, all that running around, stairclimbing, isometrics, stretching.
After looking in the mirror, I let my gaze fall on the mini-fridge, on the photograph under the magnet -- the one taken by my father two Thanksgivings ago, of me with Adam and James and Beca in my parents' front yard in Sag Harbor. I saw them all tall, strongly built. And me: Pixie thing. Tiny thing. Little One. Tiny, tiny, tiny; when did I get so small? Was I always that godsdamn small? Yes I was.
I could have been taller. Only a couple of inches, but what a difference. Did the cerebral palsy do that? They say cerebral palsy. even mild spastic ataxic hemiplegia, causes "failure to thrive" for some babies. Hah.
Genetically small. My mother is five-two, my father is five-six. But I might have been my mom's height. Maybe.
I stopped growing at puberty. I was eleven.
I was always this little.
Can I say it?
I hate it.
I like being thin. I like having slim muscle tone that could compare with Halle Berry or Jada Pinkett-Smith. But... I'm smaller than almost everyone I know, it shows no matter what. My gods, people must feel like giants next to me. Must feel so fucking awkward and huge. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish I at least was taller. I wouldn't look so... hidden?
I'd joined an lj community called petitepower a while ago. In it, there are women smaller than me. And they embrace and appreciate their bodies. I'd like to be able to do that. To not care. To stand as tall as I can with my inch under five feet, ninety-something pounds, little bit of mass, small curves; and smile proudly and not care how small I look.
Women would kill for this. Women die for this. Women kill themselves for it. I tried to die for this, what I already had, what I almost lost, but I did not know it at the time. Anorexia without the fear of fat, until later. Fear of bad food at first. Fear of fat came later. Psychological disease. Why? Why? Stupid. I was disappearing. I could still. Tiny.
I shouldn't complain, then.
Okay, I'm done.
Just a thought. Just a random, random thing. Whoops. I know, I know. You're tiny. Get over it.
Back to reading my book and watching Battlestar Galactica.
Anyone else feel weird like that at random moments? Not about that specifically, but in general? Knowing you've got something good about you and trying to figure out why, and what's so great about it, and if it really is that good?
After looking in the mirror, I let my gaze fall on the mini-fridge, on the photograph under the magnet -- the one taken by my father two Thanksgivings ago, of me with Adam and James and Beca in my parents' front yard in Sag Harbor. I saw them all tall, strongly built. And me: Pixie thing. Tiny thing. Little One. Tiny, tiny, tiny; when did I get so small? Was I always that godsdamn small? Yes I was.
I could have been taller. Only a couple of inches, but what a difference. Did the cerebral palsy do that? They say cerebral palsy. even mild spastic ataxic hemiplegia, causes "failure to thrive" for some babies. Hah.
Genetically small. My mother is five-two, my father is five-six. But I might have been my mom's height. Maybe.
I stopped growing at puberty. I was eleven.
I was always this little.
Can I say it?
I hate it.
I like being thin. I like having slim muscle tone that could compare with Halle Berry or Jada Pinkett-Smith. But... I'm smaller than almost everyone I know, it shows no matter what. My gods, people must feel like giants next to me. Must feel so fucking awkward and huge. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wish I at least was taller. I wouldn't look so... hidden?
I'd joined an lj community called petitepower a while ago. In it, there are women smaller than me. And they embrace and appreciate their bodies. I'd like to be able to do that. To not care. To stand as tall as I can with my inch under five feet, ninety-something pounds, little bit of mass, small curves; and smile proudly and not care how small I look.
Women would kill for this. Women die for this. Women kill themselves for it. I tried to die for this, what I already had, what I almost lost, but I did not know it at the time. Anorexia without the fear of fat, until later. Fear of bad food at first. Fear of fat came later. Psychological disease. Why? Why? Stupid. I was disappearing. I could still. Tiny.
I shouldn't complain, then.
Okay, I'm done.
Just a thought. Just a random, random thing. Whoops. I know, I know. You're tiny. Get over it.
Back to reading my book and watching Battlestar Galactica.
Anyone else feel weird like that at random moments? Not about that specifically, but in general? Knowing you've got something good about you and trying to figure out why, and what's so great about it, and if it really is that good?
