Today some of the women I work with have decided to weigh themselves once a week, on a Friday. This information will not be publicised. It's just a small group to help them lose weight. This, for me, is slippy slope territory. I haven't weighed myself for years, and I weigh eleven stones and four pounds. My colleagues, who know nothing of my odd food blip, were shocked I weighed that much. "But we thought you'd weigh about eight". "I can't believe you weigh that much". I was, of course, complimented. Being tall and broad counts for something, and putting on muscle easily, "you must be built solid". But even so, it makes me want to lose weight for next week. I wasn't even doing it with the thought in mind that I'd weigh myself every week; I was curious.
I already know that MC and assorted others are into weight loss. But I found out today that MH is participating in weighing club. This confuses me. My wish to be slender stems from a desire to be respected. I cannot be respected any other way; I must slim, therefore. MH, however, has all the respect she could possibly need. She controls swathes of unruly adolescents, calms, soothes, orders. Is obeyed. There is no deficit- and no one would call her fat, and if anyone ever did in my presence then I'd contradict them immediately. I've got no doubt that she's got a band of followers that would do the same. CW is the same; she's not in the weight loss club, but she makes frequent comments, "you think I'm going to get my fat legs through there?" to a student, "you're so energetic, I know I should lose some weight" to me. But, just as MH has no need, neither does she. She's perfectly well respected, loved and admired without needing to do anything about her appearance. I need to change my weight; I've got nothing else to offer, because I can't be respected and admired. I can't control swathes, not at the moment anyway. That these classroom sorcerers, these magnificent, invulnerable warrior women depend on a scale baffles me. It seems like a regression. They aspire to weigh less, to waste away, to negate themselves. Why? To look younger, or be more aesthetically pleasing. To be more childlike and vulnerable and look delicate; pointless aims, negating all their achievements. I am sure it's nothing to do with fitness. It's as if they're throwing away their experience chasing after something they don't need. This is what I do, not what they do.
They are brilliant not despite of the way they look, but because of it. They maintain a presence in the room; they're not wispy, disposable people that fade into the background or flap into nothingness. They are bright and strong, and noticed. Both put effort into maintaining their appearance, and both are attractive. They are forceful, powerful, perfect bodies. And they want to waste them away.
I know that their aims are probably not as sinister as mine were, and that they're probably not trying to waste away. I just want to tell them that it's not necessary for people like them. I want to tell them to enjoy themselves and chow down on that cake, or ten cakes, or whatever they fancy, because they could be the size of houses, wheeled in on plinths, and they'd still command a room. Chow down and continue being brilliant. All of those things that thin people are supposed to have, the ability to make people stop and stare, the ability to look excellent, are things that these women already possess. It makes me wonder whether I'll ever stop wanting to be thin. Those women awakened a gradual epiphany in me; that you could be a normal size without losing everyone's respect, that you could provoke wonder and be brilliant without needing to have the perfect body. But if they're chasing an ideal, then anyone can slip.
Friday, 7 January 2011
Unexpected occurrences.
It's so odd, that a year ago I was thinking that DB thought I was socially reclusive when, in fact, she took my monosyllabic responses and abrupt leaving at the end of a party to mean that I was cool. Cool. Because I had better places to go and people to see; when I was only going to see Re to moan about the fact that I was socially ridiculous.
DB thinks I'm cool. I think she's achingly cool, which makes me slightly less so, but I am getting better at having conversations with her with time.
DB thinks I'm cool. I think she's achingly cool, which makes me slightly less so, but I am getting better at having conversations with her with time.
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
I want to know
How far people actually esteem me.
A narcissistic goal. But nontheless, I do need to know.
B, for example. She wants me to get up early; I don't want to. It'll be hard. And I'm not brilliant at timekeeping. I value her opinion more because she is a close friend; and she is pushing because she is being pushed, everything that she's going through. But I wouldn't push her like she pushes me.
I feel like this about quite a few people; and it doesn't make me feel safe.
DB, I know, esteems me far lower than I do her. This is alright because I expect it. I expect that it is so. It's so for many people that I work with; I hold them higher, they hold me lower, because I can't do the things that they do. I like this because it gives me something to aspire to. Even if I can do something that they can't (speak French)- it's only momentary- and not essential to what I'm doing- they could do what I do without speaking another language, which is amazing. And that is alright. MH as well.
Lady of the House. I adore her. She's a safe person; but she's someone who I'll never know with. I know that she's happy to walk with me, to talk with me, but she uses the same tactics with me that she does everyone else. She will persuade me with questions when she really wants to question what I think; and this is a good way of persuading, because it makes you justify your opinions, but I do wish that she'd just be blunt and argue with me sometimes. I suppose that I crave contact, and even if that's bellicose it still remains. She's approaching her sexagenarian years, and yet, I adore her. My sister said she looked like she smells, and still I don't care. She wears fleecy jumpers (purples) and she'd come in from the walk, looking ruffled. I'd held her hand crossing ice, thinking she might slide or slip in a car park. I didn't realise that she was slower than I was crossing it until I looked back. She didn't take my hand at first, but when she did she held it as fast as I was holding hers. I can see the person that she is; forceful without forcing, powerful without craving power, and it's beautiful.
Besides, she doesn't smell. She smells of the house, of food. She smells like nourishment and practicalities realised. She sat here, where I'm sitting now, and opened up over cups of tea about how she feels now; single sex relationships, friendships, are paramount, and her husband's in America. She forgets names sometimes. There are so many names in her life; names of the people that go through her home. I feel like a child, in comparison; I haven't done, I haven't been. I'm still here, where I was born, like a snail in its shell. She might despise the little that I have accomplished, being so sheltered and fulfilling what was so expected.
The Lady of the House is a safe person; a sage. She never probes, but gives information about herself willingly. She trusts just enough; she will trust people with her home and her money (but she doesn't regard these as important) but I'd like to think that she hasn't trusted lots of people with things she's told me; about loss, about how losing her children (to other homes) is replicated every time someone leaves her house. I'd like to think that but I can't quite believe it because she shares with everyone, so freely and willingly. She's wise and implacable.
Then, there are (those rare few) who esteem me more than I esteem them. KB- 'thankyou for inspiring me'. In a christmas card. But I know that she must be utterly awful at her job if I can inspire her. There are so many inspirational people that do what we do; it's only because I am like her (awkward, with a degree) that she believes that I am inspirational. I wonder if she would find someone without a degree inspirational, or if she's a snob? Is this why she's not inspired by others- or is it because they're too hard, because they appear hard and brash? The people that I work with are kind and brilliant, and any fool should be able to see that you don't need a degree to be intelligent. But then, why wouldn't she find DB wonderful? It could be because I can speak French and have a modicum of social knowledge. It could be because I don't dress myself in purple constantly. It almost irritates me that she finds me inspirational, because there are so many other people who are far better than I am that she could look to.
I know why it is. We aspire to what we can reach; and I am a strange, odd person that somehow manages to get by with younger ages on enthusiasm alone. She is a strange, odd person that doesn't know how to do that yet. DB is a social phenomenon who is also educated, so could get by with any age, and exhibits intellectual prowess, particularly regarding feminism, which KB, with her awful chick-lit novels, could never realise; she's too far. The others are as well- or maybe she supposes them beneath her, because they're not as educated. This is so ridiculous that I detest even typing it. MC is learning literature; she's a voracious reader. MR is so kind, and so adept at everything, and reads further than KB does. She is better at the same job. Everyone is intelligent; no one would be incapable of completing my degree, but I am incapable of doing what they do. This is the basis of it.
A narcissistic goal. But nontheless, I do need to know.
B, for example. She wants me to get up early; I don't want to. It'll be hard. And I'm not brilliant at timekeeping. I value her opinion more because she is a close friend; and she is pushing because she is being pushed, everything that she's going through. But I wouldn't push her like she pushes me.
I feel like this about quite a few people; and it doesn't make me feel safe.
DB, I know, esteems me far lower than I do her. This is alright because I expect it. I expect that it is so. It's so for many people that I work with; I hold them higher, they hold me lower, because I can't do the things that they do. I like this because it gives me something to aspire to. Even if I can do something that they can't (speak French)- it's only momentary- and not essential to what I'm doing- they could do what I do without speaking another language, which is amazing. And that is alright. MH as well.
Lady of the House. I adore her. She's a safe person; but she's someone who I'll never know with. I know that she's happy to walk with me, to talk with me, but she uses the same tactics with me that she does everyone else. She will persuade me with questions when she really wants to question what I think; and this is a good way of persuading, because it makes you justify your opinions, but I do wish that she'd just be blunt and argue with me sometimes. I suppose that I crave contact, and even if that's bellicose it still remains. She's approaching her sexagenarian years, and yet, I adore her. My sister said she looked like she smells, and still I don't care. She wears fleecy jumpers (purples) and she'd come in from the walk, looking ruffled. I'd held her hand crossing ice, thinking she might slide or slip in a car park. I didn't realise that she was slower than I was crossing it until I looked back. She didn't take my hand at first, but when she did she held it as fast as I was holding hers. I can see the person that she is; forceful without forcing, powerful without craving power, and it's beautiful.
Besides, she doesn't smell. She smells of the house, of food. She smells like nourishment and practicalities realised. She sat here, where I'm sitting now, and opened up over cups of tea about how she feels now; single sex relationships, friendships, are paramount, and her husband's in America. She forgets names sometimes. There are so many names in her life; names of the people that go through her home. I feel like a child, in comparison; I haven't done, I haven't been. I'm still here, where I was born, like a snail in its shell. She might despise the little that I have accomplished, being so sheltered and fulfilling what was so expected.
The Lady of the House is a safe person; a sage. She never probes, but gives information about herself willingly. She trusts just enough; she will trust people with her home and her money (but she doesn't regard these as important) but I'd like to think that she hasn't trusted lots of people with things she's told me; about loss, about how losing her children (to other homes) is replicated every time someone leaves her house. I'd like to think that but I can't quite believe it because she shares with everyone, so freely and willingly. She's wise and implacable.
Then, there are (those rare few) who esteem me more than I esteem them. KB- 'thankyou for inspiring me'. In a christmas card. But I know that she must be utterly awful at her job if I can inspire her. There are so many inspirational people that do what we do; it's only because I am like her (awkward, with a degree) that she believes that I am inspirational. I wonder if she would find someone without a degree inspirational, or if she's a snob? Is this why she's not inspired by others- or is it because they're too hard, because they appear hard and brash? The people that I work with are kind and brilliant, and any fool should be able to see that you don't need a degree to be intelligent. But then, why wouldn't she find DB wonderful? It could be because I can speak French and have a modicum of social knowledge. It could be because I don't dress myself in purple constantly. It almost irritates me that she finds me inspirational, because there are so many other people who are far better than I am that she could look to.
I know why it is. We aspire to what we can reach; and I am a strange, odd person that somehow manages to get by with younger ages on enthusiasm alone. She is a strange, odd person that doesn't know how to do that yet. DB is a social phenomenon who is also educated, so could get by with any age, and exhibits intellectual prowess, particularly regarding feminism, which KB, with her awful chick-lit novels, could never realise; she's too far. The others are as well- or maybe she supposes them beneath her, because they're not as educated. This is so ridiculous that I detest even typing it. MC is learning literature; she's a voracious reader. MR is so kind, and so adept at everything, and reads further than KB does. She is better at the same job. Everyone is intelligent; no one would be incapable of completing my degree, but I am incapable of doing what they do. This is the basis of it.
Friday, 18 December 2009
When I see you walking with her, I have to cover my eyes.
Little Bird is bringing a guest to our Sylvester festivities. A weekend with her and a new amour, who I'm not sure about. She professes great feeling, and then nothing comes from it. One of our friends said that she seemed unsure, maybe because this man is nice (and others haven't been)- but I think it could be the disjuncture. Him and me. Me observing- and I will, and she knows I will.
I was angry about this. Alright, she may have a new beau; but to flaunt him in front of me seems cruel. On the other hand, I give her the impression that I don't mind what she does; it was just a night. But it wasn't, not really, because I held those feelings for her for a long time. I don't know how long she reciprocated. And I think, it's not so much that I still feel that for her; it's more that it brought it back, a ghost of it, and now I just want a while to gestate over it.
But what else will she think, if I've concurred with everything she's said about it being momentary? We were both drunk.
Another thing that irritates me is that she always uses hyperbole when she's trying to convince herself of loving someone. He's always the new best thing since sliced bread. With me, there was no hyperbole; or there was, but she couldn't exaggerate to anyone else to convince herself. They never turn out to be the best thing. But then, I wouldn't be either. I only know that she's beautiful, and I can fart with her, and I don't feel embarrassed about anything; watching crappy TV, not reading, lazing about. This is what I miss. I probably still do hold a torch, else it wouldn't be this patent. I wouldn't have typed for so long otherwise.
DB. I am sure she detests me, which makes it more difficult to hold a flame for her. She thinks that I am ridiculous (perjorative). I think that she did admire me for speaking French (you always admire people for things you can't do). I still do, but I can see that it's futile- utterly. I can't even befriend her because I'm too much of a loser.
Bee. I have worked it out. She wants to feel safe, and that's why she waltzes from man to man. She's in need of something to hold onto now that a horrible thing is happening; she needs someone strong and constant, and it can't be us, because we are too touched. She needs someone to hold, because she isn't getting that at the moment.
MH. Another one that would never have me; she prefers men, there's a massive age gap, I'm weak. But I prefer her. See, she's another one that will think I am pathetic for not being able to do what so many in my line of work can; control and enthrall. Which she does with aplomb. I come under her spell, bewitched at the backs of recalcitrant youths. I spend the hour with a silly grin on my face, listening to her sleepy voice weave its way into reluctant minds. She is kind and steadfast, and flexible and unshakeable. She finishes each task she sets me with, 'if you feel OK with it', but she never patronises. She's so eager not to overstrain anyone's capabilities, and gives me lovely things to do. I want to do my best for her. I think that most people do. She's immune to insult from everyone, and I adore this about her, but she will show vulnerability; a split with the father of her child, and the death of her own at a young age. She'll share it without sentiment and tears, sensible, "both a different kind of upset", never twee. Beautiful. I think she is. She would laugh if she heard me say this; she doesn't style herself as a beauty. The furthest I've got towards telling her any of this is, "I'm always impressed with you". Because I am. Today, she danced as a troupe; as a christmas joke. She's got no rhythm, and she didn't move very well; it was sweet, and confident, and I laughed and loved her for it. I want to tell her that she's kind, not saccharine, strong. And bright, and beautiful. All things.
I was angry about this. Alright, she may have a new beau; but to flaunt him in front of me seems cruel. On the other hand, I give her the impression that I don't mind what she does; it was just a night. But it wasn't, not really, because I held those feelings for her for a long time. I don't know how long she reciprocated. And I think, it's not so much that I still feel that for her; it's more that it brought it back, a ghost of it, and now I just want a while to gestate over it.
But what else will she think, if I've concurred with everything she's said about it being momentary? We were both drunk.
Another thing that irritates me is that she always uses hyperbole when she's trying to convince herself of loving someone. He's always the new best thing since sliced bread. With me, there was no hyperbole; or there was, but she couldn't exaggerate to anyone else to convince herself. They never turn out to be the best thing. But then, I wouldn't be either. I only know that she's beautiful, and I can fart with her, and I don't feel embarrassed about anything; watching crappy TV, not reading, lazing about. This is what I miss. I probably still do hold a torch, else it wouldn't be this patent. I wouldn't have typed for so long otherwise.
DB. I am sure she detests me, which makes it more difficult to hold a flame for her. She thinks that I am ridiculous (perjorative). I think that she did admire me for speaking French (you always admire people for things you can't do). I still do, but I can see that it's futile- utterly. I can't even befriend her because I'm too much of a loser.
Bee. I have worked it out. She wants to feel safe, and that's why she waltzes from man to man. She's in need of something to hold onto now that a horrible thing is happening; she needs someone strong and constant, and it can't be us, because we are too touched. She needs someone to hold, because she isn't getting that at the moment.
MH. Another one that would never have me; she prefers men, there's a massive age gap, I'm weak. But I prefer her. See, she's another one that will think I am pathetic for not being able to do what so many in my line of work can; control and enthrall. Which she does with aplomb. I come under her spell, bewitched at the backs of recalcitrant youths. I spend the hour with a silly grin on my face, listening to her sleepy voice weave its way into reluctant minds. She is kind and steadfast, and flexible and unshakeable. She finishes each task she sets me with, 'if you feel OK with it', but she never patronises. She's so eager not to overstrain anyone's capabilities, and gives me lovely things to do. I want to do my best for her. I think that most people do. She's immune to insult from everyone, and I adore this about her, but she will show vulnerability; a split with the father of her child, and the death of her own at a young age. She'll share it without sentiment and tears, sensible, "both a different kind of upset", never twee. Beautiful. I think she is. She would laugh if she heard me say this; she doesn't style herself as a beauty. The furthest I've got towards telling her any of this is, "I'm always impressed with you". Because I am. Today, she danced as a troupe; as a christmas joke. She's got no rhythm, and she didn't move very well; it was sweet, and confident, and I laughed and loved her for it. I want to tell her that she's kind, not saccharine, strong. And bright, and beautiful. All things.
Things that irritate me.
1. Not being on time because other people are doing trivial things, like fussing over their appearance.
2. Parents leaving shoes on my bed, and general crap. Why shoes? There's nothing more disrespectful than shoes on the bed.
3. The way I turn my music down for others but they wouldn't do similar for me.
4. Not being as cool as other people.
5. Not being as responded to... but then, I should respond more to others, and it would happen. As with KB, people do not respond because she is unresponsive.
6. Still living here, when I am old enough to move out.
7. Being a general loser around people that impress me. Why can't I be at my worst around people I don't want to impress? Why do I always dissolve when there are brilliant people?
2. Parents leaving shoes on my bed, and general crap. Why shoes? There's nothing more disrespectful than shoes on the bed.
3. The way I turn my music down for others but they wouldn't do similar for me.
4. Not being as cool as other people.
5. Not being as responded to... but then, I should respond more to others, and it would happen. As with KB, people do not respond because she is unresponsive.
6. Still living here, when I am old enough to move out.
7. Being a general loser around people that impress me. Why can't I be at my worst around people I don't want to impress? Why do I always dissolve when there are brilliant people?
Friday, 11 December 2009
Never mind, bile's out.
So here are the good things.
1. I managed to organise invigilation, with no pre-warnings or anything. Not as well as AG would have, but I managed to sort people out and keep them calm.
2. HM had a good day, without anyone there. I was happy about this- and she was, showing the world and his wife her report. I must get her a present for Monday.
3. At least I went, and people know deep down I'm not a loser- some do.
4. I saw Re after, and she's good. I offloaded on her a bit, but at least I can succeed at one mode of social interaction.
5. I liked making paper chains with one of my badasses.
6. A present came in the post, showing people do care. Unexpected. And emails as well, people do care about me. I needed them tonight as well, just as I'd hit a downer.
1. I managed to organise invigilation, with no pre-warnings or anything. Not as well as AG would have, but I managed to sort people out and keep them calm.
2. HM had a good day, without anyone there. I was happy about this- and she was, showing the world and his wife her report. I must get her a present for Monday.
3. At least I went, and people know deep down I'm not a loser- some do.
4. I saw Re after, and she's good. I offloaded on her a bit, but at least I can succeed at one mode of social interaction.
5. I liked making paper chains with one of my badasses.
6. A present came in the post, showing people do care. Unexpected. And emails as well, people do care about me. I needed them tonight as well, just as I'd hit a downer.
Why does the power of speech elude me?
And I just sit like a cabbage, like KB. A social event is the hardest thing to negotiate for me- a social event with no one else around, just acquaintances that like to play silly games with balloons. So I seem po-faced for not joining in... but it's not that, it's that I'm shy, not shocked. I wasn't on form at all- I was distant and glazed, and a bit thick.
"the department has a high regard of you". MH speaks highly of me, apparently. A surprise. I think she likes that I try hard; it's not that I get anywhere, but she appreciates the effort. Ugh.
I can't be myself when I'm around someone I want most to be the real me around. Ugh. Why on earth can't I just be normal, instead of stuttering or halting or gazing off spaced into the mid distance? Especially for DB, who doesn't like middle class people at best. So why can't I win people over instead of making them think I'm some stupid little girl. A twelve year old boy does better than I do. I am just not socially adept.
What do I fear most?
I do not fear people thinking that I am weird. I take it for granted that they will assume this.
I fear people speaking about me as MC does of KB- though she did take cigarette breaks with me. "Of course she looks fucking familiar- you work with her!" On KB's attempt at conversation initialisation. The thing is that though I pretend to be adept, secretly, I can see where KB's weaknesses lie (and maybe this is why I detest her- I can see these things in myself). A tendency to remain silent when under pressure, or daze off because you're omitting yourself from a situation that could go wrong when you're under pressure. A worry about saying the wrong thing, so keeping schtum. An idea that smiling along doesn't make you look inane, but fun. Smiling is alright- but too much and you start to look like you've had a lobotomy. I am worried that:
1. People will think that I am inane.
2. Or self centred.
3. Or have no idea about the world.
4. Or will cotton on that I am obsessive about people. A lot.
Or just boring, people might think I'm boring.
Especially round DB. I feel the need to prove myself, prove that I am good enough, because I am aware that I'm not- that I don't measure up. And it had been such a god day.
Ah well, fixate on something else (ugh, and the longest conversation was about what I'd eaten- will she think I'm on a diet, running between lessons and stupid things like that? That's another awful, trivial thing that I don't want anyone to be believing about me).
Well. I don't mind doing this secretly- jotting down eating and things- but I do mind doing it in an open way. I don't want to be a bore.
carrot-30
2 cakes-250
a jacket potato with beans and cheese-400
680
dinner- turkey, a potato, yorkshire puddings, vegetables-500
1180. And a shed load of alcohol. Damn.
"the department has a high regard of you". MH speaks highly of me, apparently. A surprise. I think she likes that I try hard; it's not that I get anywhere, but she appreciates the effort. Ugh.
I can't be myself when I'm around someone I want most to be the real me around. Ugh. Why on earth can't I just be normal, instead of stuttering or halting or gazing off spaced into the mid distance? Especially for DB, who doesn't like middle class people at best. So why can't I win people over instead of making them think I'm some stupid little girl. A twelve year old boy does better than I do. I am just not socially adept.
What do I fear most?
I do not fear people thinking that I am weird. I take it for granted that they will assume this.
I fear people speaking about me as MC does of KB- though she did take cigarette breaks with me. "Of course she looks fucking familiar- you work with her!" On KB's attempt at conversation initialisation. The thing is that though I pretend to be adept, secretly, I can see where KB's weaknesses lie (and maybe this is why I detest her- I can see these things in myself). A tendency to remain silent when under pressure, or daze off because you're omitting yourself from a situation that could go wrong when you're under pressure. A worry about saying the wrong thing, so keeping schtum. An idea that smiling along doesn't make you look inane, but fun. Smiling is alright- but too much and you start to look like you've had a lobotomy. I am worried that:
1. People will think that I am inane.
2. Or self centred.
3. Or have no idea about the world.
4. Or will cotton on that I am obsessive about people. A lot.
Or just boring, people might think I'm boring.
Especially round DB. I feel the need to prove myself, prove that I am good enough, because I am aware that I'm not- that I don't measure up. And it had been such a god day.
Ah well, fixate on something else (ugh, and the longest conversation was about what I'd eaten- will she think I'm on a diet, running between lessons and stupid things like that? That's another awful, trivial thing that I don't want anyone to be believing about me).
Well. I don't mind doing this secretly- jotting down eating and things- but I do mind doing it in an open way. I don't want to be a bore.
carrot-30
2 cakes-250
a jacket potato with beans and cheese-400
680
dinner- turkey, a potato, yorkshire puddings, vegetables-500
1180. And a shed load of alcohol. Damn.
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