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Because I usually am in Vino ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In 2009, I gave up my studies as a medievalist and musician, left my home, my family, my life and moved to Provence in southern France for a guy. In 2012, I moved away from him to study wine. Today, I'm a vagabond sommelier working in Paris at one of the oldest and most famous restaurants in the world, struggling to find some purpose to what I deem the rest of my life. I'm still married and after 8 10 years, I'm still trying to fit-in with French life and culture and to understand why the French are the way they are. Because they're weird in a different way that I think Americans are weird. Perhaps it's me who's weird. |
| I don't give trigger warnings. I don't really believe in them. If I had a trigger warning placed at every little thing that might set me off, I'd literally never leave my bed. That being said, if you have body issues and don't want to read about someone else's, go away. Today the mailman came three times. Three. The first was to deliver my Lookiero clothes box. It's the European version of Stitch Fix or whatever. They send 5 items of clothing in a box one a month or once every two months and you send back what you don't want. I had cancelled my bi-monthly subscription a while ago when I'd decided my wardrobe was pretty complete and was living in Paris anyway where I could actually shop (as opposed to Arles where there are three stores and I hate them all.) But because I'm bored out of my mind I decided to order a random box, just to see what they'd throw in it this time. I'm not a huge fan of fast fashion either - which this company seems to promote by the landfill full, but eh I feel like seeing what's up. Oddly enough they sent nothing for summer, which as I've already explained, is what I really need. Insert eye-roll here. But I like everything they've sent and I might keep it all. The second delivery was a lettre recommandé which is a letter you have to sign for in France. It was face masks that my friend M, in Paris sent me because I couldn't find any here and apparently where he lives in Paris (a rather rich area) they're just giving them away. So he got me two cloth masks - made in France! - and sent them. This is supposed to be incentive for me to hop on the next train and go visit him, but I can't do that yet. I could say more about Mr. M and our friendship, but I won't. Not today anyway. The third delivery was the actual mail. Which included a letter from work about something I already knew about. Thanks to Julien who tells me everything, even when I don't want to know. Usually because it annoys him and he needs to vent and 90% of my job as his assistant is listening to him vent because he has no one else to talk to. And more face masks of the low-quality variety that I'd also ordered on Amazon. We can use them as a back-up I guess. My husband asked me if all my deliveries were done now, but unfortunately for him, I have reed-materials coming Friday. Supposedly. So three times in two hours. I had to sign for two of them. Why they couldn't just come all at once, I'll never know. Someone obviously didn't bother to sort his mail before he set out this morning. He must have been seriously annoyed to pass by our house 3 times. Or maybe not. What do I know? Anyway, I was worried about this clothes box. Over the past two and a half years I've noticed a serious change in my body that I'm not a fan of. I've gained weight. My hips are wide enough to fit a watermelon through despite never having been pregnant and my thighs are tree-trunks. My stomach when flexed, has clear abdominal muscles but most of the time looks like a bloated blob of too much cookie dough. This is infuriating to me. I am very vain and care a lot about my appearance. I used to be fat and when I lost the weight, and kept it off like I have for the past 11 or so years, I was very proud of myself. But now I just look really unbalanced. I don't mind curves. I don't mind hips and a butt, but jesus. My hips and thighs are way out of proportion with the top half of my body. The top half is thin, petit, can barely fill out an XS and the bottom is round and flabby despite running a 10K almost everyday. I don't snack, I work out, I don't over eat anymore. So what the hell? I know that I'm getting older and things change but the way my body looks makes me really unhappy. I'm not fat. I know that. My weight is still well within the limits of thin. I never changed the sizes for my box (XS on top and Small for the bottom), and I fit into everything fine. Almost. The pants are tight around the thighs but everything I own is tight around the thighs. It all still fits though. So I haven't gone up a size. Yet- I tell myself. But the way I look just looks disproportionate and flabby and I hate it. And am I just going to continue to get wider? Am I going to wake up one day and have to buy all new clothes because I can't fit into my pants anymore? It also makes it really hard to find clothes that look good on me. Anyone who has a curvy figure with a really tiny waist will know that finding clothes that don't accentuate the hips and thighs into gross proportions is difficult. I feel like it's gotten worse over the years. Everytime I look at myself in the mirror I cringe. I'm angry and depressed over it. On top of that, I am a hairy lady. If I don't trim with tiny scissors everyday, I could grow a goatee within five days. Sometimes at work- if it's been a really long day and I haven't had time to look in the mirror and make proper adjustments I can go home with a 5 o'clock shadow. But wait- it gets better. The sun and smoking have stained the skin on my upper lip to look like a moustache. It's not hair - which I could bleach - it's the skin. I look like I have a moustache. A moustache and a beard. Give me a week, a suit and a tie and I could easily pass as a man. And who wants that? Makeup barely covers the moustache. I could get heavier makeup, but I'm loyal to my brand and I don't want to be one of those people who coats it on. I have always preferred a more natural look. So at the moment, I feel like a sideshow freak. Out of proportion with myself, fat, and mannish and it's bringing me down after years of working to keep the weight off and becoming comfortable with how I look. That's been the sole advantage of being required to wear a face mask out of the house. No one can see the moustache and beard. Eventually I'm just going to wrap myself in burlap and put a paper bag over my head. I know I shouldn't care. I know I should own the curves. I know I'm not fat. Butts are in. But I can't. I just feel like every aspect of my life just isn't where it should be. Internally and now externally. |
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I think it's awesome that you're using that negative experience to get creative. It's hard not to just wallow when those things happen. I use a paper journal for most of my actual coping process too, but I do share bits and pieces on WDC as well.
Might try a short story a day instead. Stay safe. 
