Incomplete

Thought I'm gonna start having some light work out on my living room carpet as my "next step" or what to say. The first step was taking walks daily, which I have now for a few weeks. So... time to go a little harder on myself. And taking a few minutes a day to do some sit-ups or whatever I can think of seems like a reasonable suggestion. So that's what I'm gonna (try to) do for a while from now on.

I guess I'm dragging it out, going to the gym. There are people there! Staring at me! While I'm sweating my ass off lifting 2 kg dumb-bells! So maybe I wanna get in shape before I dare to show my face in the place I'll go to to get in shape. Just until I'm fit enough to be considered "normal" rather than a disabled couch-potato. Celebrating my first actual work out since 2010, with extra lots of caffeine and some chain smoking.

I did some measurements, just to see where I am right now, or something. I think my ass might have gotten smaller, which would be awesome if that's the case! On the other hand, I couldn't help but checking if my future surgeon was right about me having a C-cup and started googling bra size calculators. Now I'm choking on my cigarette smoke cause all those websites say that my size doesn't exist! It's kinda funny. By the way, I think that surgeon was wrong, I'm way smaller than that. Just that I'm fat doesn't equal a bigger cup size, which he'd oughta know. Oh well... Can't wait to get that flattened out.

No really, I can't wait! Damn how long is this gonna take!? They said "this year" but it's already November, and unless they're planning on giving me surgery as a Christmas gift (which would be nice, for that matter), it's most likely not gonna happen this year. I wonder what the problem is. They declared me healthy as a horse and that I'm fit enough for it, so what's the damn deal?! Urghh... seems like I've done nothing but waiting for so long now. Will it ever happen? A part of me thinks that it will never happen. I'm gonna die incomplete.

Yeah, I feel incomplete. Disorganised, wrong, broken. I need to fix this. This is one of few things, perhaps even the only thing that can be fixed out of everything that is wrong with me. And maybe that is one of the reasons I find it to be so very important. I can do something about my body, it's fixable. It won't be perfect, but it will be better. And maybe someday I can look in the mirror and not feel this awful self hatred and disgust. It's not about passing, and I don't really have a problem showing myself to others. It's about living in this skin every day for the rest of my life.

Sometimes I think it's good that I get cold so easily, with my sort of impossibly low body temperature (35,5 celcius degrees) cause I get to hide under layers of clothing all year around. I don't have to wear a binder under a t-shirt, double hoodies and a morning robe cause nothing is gonna show anyway. All the clothes hide my curves and all that which I hate. I hide it from myself. That's right, I feel the most need to hide my body when I'm all alone in my apartment. Outside, whether going to the grocery store or a night club, I feel safe dressed up nicely and even wearing make up. But when there's no one around, that is when the anxiety hits the hardest.