something the women in my family are absolutely flabbergasted by every time it comes up is the fact that i don’t own a scale.
“how do you know how much you weigh??” they cry.
“i don’t.” i simply respond.
“you look thinner, have you lost weight?” they ask at christmas.
“i dunno.” i say as i check on the turkey.
“you look bigger, have you gained weight?” they probe, as if my weight rests on their shoulders.
“i’m not sure, but it’s fine if i have.” i respond with a casualness they cannot comprehend.
“don’t you want to know if you’ve lost or gained?” they inquire over cups of coffee and a plate of untouched cookies.
“i do.” i take a sip. “which is why i don’t need to know.”
“we don’t understand.” they say.
“i’ll drive myself mad if i know. it’s been a question i’ve been looking for the answer to since i was in the seventh grade and my weight was the topic of conversation for the first time; the stretch marks on my calves puberty brought being questioned and condemned. and so i started weighing myself once a day. then twice a day. i gained weight as i grew and was told to stop. i got depressed when i was 16 and the weight i gained was more concerning than the scars on my thighs. the critiques turned to compliments during my first year of college when i’d started skipping meals and my body had to feed itself because i wouldn’t. everyday i stepped on the scale and smiled as i watched that number get smaller and smaller. hunger felt like victory. i started doing drugs that took away my appetite and then my strength. and started feeling guilt when my stomach felt full. and suddenly every time i looked in the mirror i hated what i saw. the more weight i lost, the better i was supposed to feel. each remark on another part of my body lost felt like a slap to the face. i was told i looked good but i knew i wasn’t good enough. and so i tried harder. and then i started to get dizzy when i stood. and i ignored it like i’d learned to ignore my hunger. and then one day at work i dropped like the weight that was never enough after i bending at the waist to grab a milk cap from the floor. and when the darkness faded, i was surrounded by panic as an ambulance was called. and then i was tested and prodded and poked because they thought something was wrong with my heart. and the problem persisted but they never found out why. but i’d known all along. and then i left home and its scale behind. and moved into a new home that was mine. so i bought plates and sheets and art for the walls. but i didn’t buy a scale. then every time i walked down an aisle i’d see the them and pause. and i’d think about the hunger i now kept at bay. and even though i didn’t know how much i weighed, i didn’t notice my body had changed. and i’d think about how i hadn’t been dizzy for months. and how i hadn’t fainted for longer. and then i’d keep on walking. and now most days i like how i look.”
“but don’t you want to be skinny?” comes their quiet response.
“i want to be myself in whatever body i have.”
they stare in disbelief. so i shrug my shoulders, and grab a cookie. and i smile at them as i swallow the first bite.
can’t wait to write about love sick!undead!eddie munson wanting to fight EVERYONE who hurts you and your feelings, perhaps he kills a few people but every guy has his faults 💚🩷💚
My grandpa fought in WWII and stole nazi clock pieces from the streets to hand-build all SIX clocks that still ring out in our house every hour. He was a soldier and a wood-worker who never got his high-school diploma but made an amazing life for himself and his family. He’s in a museum, actually, as one of the few survivors of one of the most dangerous battles in WWII, and he received a purple heart for his service.
My grandma was a typist/secretary who traveled the world with him during his time in the military after getting her Bachelors Degree (!!!!! In the mid 1900’s!!!) . They met on a blind date not long after the war was through, and they were married sixty-seven years. She’s the epitome of etiquette and an amazing hostess! She has two daughters, one born in Austria and one in the U.S., and I’m their only grand-child.
You might be thinking, “Artsekey, what’s this all about? This isn’t the usual content!”
Well, I’ll tell you what it’s all about! My grandmother just celebrated her 100th Birthday! She’s been alive since 1923! The same year the radio became commercially available!!!
would anyone be interested in my gay fucking spreadsheet... it has a very large amount of sourced mcr pics arranged by date (work in progress, not very professional. but its fun) and also a section with like a hundred old interviews. did you know one time frank got interviewed by some random fucking tumblr user and they talked about donnie darko? now you will. theres finally enough stuff in there that i think its worth handing out for people who want to see :)