perfectionist

[helenic]

Even though the weather was perfect today, I've been unaccountably moody; buffeted by insecurities. I woke feeling slim for the first time since February, and after the initial pleasure of it found myself meandering through a halfsleeping internal dialectic while Iain was at lectures. Trying to work out exactly how I feel about food and myself and whether or not this whole thing is a good idea. I've lost the pounds I put on last term and over easter but whenever I restrict my eating there always comes a nagging feeling of guilt, constantly trying to redress the balance between healthy and thin. I worry if I skip a meal, but often feel bloated and disgusting if I do eat. After thinking about it earlier I ate both lunch and dinner today almost as if to prove a point, and have lost all the satisfaction I had on waking. I'm not fat, but I have far too much of it. I can feel the flesh on me, pressing against my clothes, and I hate it.

Probably the most sensible thing I've done since I got back to Cambridge was a really intensive workout at the gym last night, and I'm beginning to realise I enjoy exercise more than being hungry, which is positive, I think. Even so, I spent half an hour in the mirror this morning deciding exactly where and how I wanted to be smaller. It's all so vain of me. And as Iain said when I broached the subject, why does it matter so much to me? I didn't have an answer for him then and I don't now, but I'm starting pilates tomorrow if I can find someone to go with me. I don't think I can ever be entirely indifferent about my shape; it's all either acute pleasure or real self-loathing, and nothing inbetween. It frustrates me that this is something I can't be rational about; that thinking about it today has done nothing but make me even more insecure. Hopefully when I start term proper again food will be reduced to a purely functional level, something required to keep me going but to be fitted into the smallest time possible inbetween lectures and supervisions and essays. It's much simpler that way.

I have a new lecturer for Zeno's paradoxes. He is portly with more beard than hair, and strides around the room telling us off if we don't argue with him, provoking us into doing maths, of all things (I know you did Classics to avoid numbers but come on, it's not hard) to prove that Achilles can, in fact, catch the tortoise. It's all about potential and actual infinities. I don't really understand, but I love him already.

Comments

[libellum.livejournal.com]

actually the first session never happened - it cost about four times as much as we were expecting to and we didn't have the money on us. Next time maybe. It's frustrating, but I'll get over it. Instead we sat on the grass in the park and talked for an hour, which really made me feel like it's summer.

putting up fairylights in my room and listening to bjork. i seem to have random ennui and no way of shaking it off. there are times when I hate my own company.

[theobscureone.livejournal.com]

Ohh. Definitely try again. It's worth it.

And yes to the ennui. If you figure out how to conquer it, please do pass along the secret, would you?