Today, I had a productive therapy appointment.
I talked about weight loss and the problems I encountered when I lost the weight each time. The fact that I felt naked and could not handle the attention and how I *hated* with a passion when people would tell me that I was a “new person!”
I have talked about how I don’t want it. It is like the angel on my shoulder who says, “Jennifer Maria (always use the full name), you are not meant to be alone. You are a good person and would make some happy, preferably someone nerdy to be nerdy with.” and the devil in his evilness saying, “Baaa, men who needs them. They will just use you and drop you without even calling. Save it. Have you missed anything in the year or so since you have been on a date? No. Besides, who would want you? No one.”
I am torn from getting back into Boston’s horrible dating scene for a late 30 something gal or just crawl into my internal cubby hole and say “screw it.”
The getting out and getting into the dating scene again is winning out. Loneliness sucks, especially on Friday and Saturday nights.
The “new person” thing totally insulted me.
“Jen, look at you. Such a NEW PERSON.”
In my mind, ah no. I am still the same Jen. I like the same things just smaller. Was I such a bad person when I was fat?
Thin = new, good
Fat = old, bad
I might be a little different, everyone is as they get older, but damn, I am the same person with the same green eyes, nearsightedness, red hair and freckles. My weight was different and I had an affinity for Brussels sprouts.
I thought this was very good. For once, I talked mostly about me at therapy. Not Mom or Dad but me.