We are all raised corn-fed.

Whoa, guys, weighed myself:
114.4 lbs!  I should not be this excited.

So, I didn't sleep last night. I spent all night reading blogs and watching ANTM. I am such a shallow whore.  Or, rather, I haven't slept yet. I really need to get over this summer schedule bullshit or I will NOT be able to handle classes starting come Monday.

I guess, should I start putting my total intake up? Probably should. . . so, posting yesterday's intake, which includes snacks and all:
>1600 cal.

After reading all these blogs, I realize that this is a ridiculously large amount.  I don't really have a goal calorie intake, 1600 cals is just what Calorie Counter (an android app for weight management) says. And I was a militant bitch about eating yesterday, but the count is so high because I was out with my boyfriend and his friends wanted Whataburger. I've nighttime snacked with him all summer, so I thought it would be weird if I didn't get anything to eat. . .

BTW, though this does not concern anyone not in the south, a Whataburger with cheese and bacon is ~780 cals. Jeeesus. Thank God for a boyfriend who loves to finish my food. How will I live without him? I was on hold for an hour with the airline I'm flying back to DC on, before I finally hung up.  I'll tell my mom that they're not giving discounts to move flights right now. That's probably true anyway. I can also just call later.

So, the reason for the title above is that I wanted to talk about how much of a normal pubescent girl I am- i.e. how my insecurities started. (And they used this statement on ANTM to describe one of the girls. Not for any real food comments, but to single her out as a commercial, american model. Whatever.)  I guess, weight insecurities have really been all or nothing part of my life. The first time I remember feeling concerned was when I was in elementary school, not sure what grade, probably 4th or 5th. My mom and I were in a changing room together and she told me I needed to eat better or I was going to get pudgy, and that my pudge was starting to show. I have a feeling this memory may be a fabrication of my mind, because in no other part of my past can I EVER remember my mom telling me that I'm chubby. Nowhere close. She always used to praise me for being the one who knew when to stop eating. The thin one in our family. (Although my brother is a twig. Those of you looking for skeletal "thinspo" should take a gander at him, because he shows an absolutely DISGUSTING amount of bone. He could use his chest bone as a bass drum. Guuuh.)

But, that memory still stands. So whether real or not, it certainly says something that I can think of it.

The next was a girl, my best friend from 4th grade to 7th grade. Wow, when I write it down that seems like a very, very short time, doesn't it? Because she has influenced pretty much my whole life.  But she was so beautiful. She still is. Long Italian main of coarse black hair, fierce eyes, and tiny. So, so tiny. By normal people's standards I was not overweight as a kid. But I was so jealous when I sat next to her. I was afraid to wear shorts because I had chronically dry legs. She had these smooth, thin, lithe limbs that didn't seem to get fatter when she sat. Always silky and perfectly shaped. She was silly, creative. A better artist than me, probably a better writer, too.

And then she just had to get bigger boobs than me as well. Ah, well, c'est la vie.

She moved away the summer before 7th grade. But I still had those feelings inside me, you know?  The memory of her perfection juxtaposed with my banal brand of quirky smart girl. Not beautiful, not by far. Chubby in uncomfortable places. Not liked by any boys. Obsessed with the idea of love. To add to that, our middle school, like so many, restricted what clothing we could wear. Khaki or black bottoms with red or white polo shirts, or school t-shirts. Polos look terrible on me, so I spent most of my time in the baggiest school t-shirts I could find. I was constantly worried about everything. My hair is curly, and I hadn't learned any way to tame it besides put it back in a ponytail. My legs were dry; I had no idea what moisturizer was.  And, to top all of that off I am pear shaped. My thighs always plagued me. Along with a bit of a tummy. I weighed the same as I do now, 116 lbs.  In eighth grade a guy pinched the fat on my lower arm. That was enough.

High school was new. A catharsis. I felt like I had strength, boys liked me for the first time. I never ate. From freshmen year to junior year I didn't eat at school. I refused to have lunch. I'd eat dinner, but at school no one noticed when I didn't eat. I felt strong, so strong. At the end of High school I was barely 100 lbs.

And now, here I am, college. Things are different. I was supposed to be more mature than to care about being super skinny. To rock being quirky. Yet here I am, eh?

{Edit: It took me the entire day to write this post. I did go to sleep at 9am. I am a terrible person. }