Holy Self-Confidence Batman!

Normally I get an idea, and I want to blog about it. It nags at the back of my mind and I can't let it go until I've typed it away.

For whatever reason, today I got the urge to blog...but no idea.

That was, until I realized I haven't blogged about some big changes in my life, according to my blog, it hasn't happened.

I'm referring of course, to the new me!  It's not just weight, it's personality.

...but the whole weight loss thing is pretty good too. 

Since January, I've lost around 30 lbs.  I look awesome.  I spent practically all day today in a bikini and the rest of my time in daisy-dukes and a tank top. And you know what? I rocked them.

If we're honest, I know what started me on my "new me" mission.  It was a breakup.  I refused to do the "breakup haircut" and instead decided to hit the gym.  

And wham-bam...HOT DAMN.

This was me, before:

Now mind you, this is a FLATTERING picture, courtesy of my cousin Rachael.

Holy Huge.  At least my truck is sexy.
Those jeans are size 13.

Alright, it wasn't terrible.  Or so I thought.  Turns out, I was kinda kidding myself.  And wearing baggy shirts and hiding the weight.

Now, for all the afters:

My tan lines are the only thing embarrassing in this picture.

I bought this dress without trying it on:
I purposely picked a size smaller than I thought I would be and...well you see.

Progress shot! This is late March.

My legs are literally my favorite part of my body.

Skinny little waist!

That dress? It's a size 6.
The dress I THOUGHT I was gonna wear was a size 14.

You guys get the idea.  But it's so much better than that.  I ran my first 8-minute mile the other day.  I couldn't run a mile in January...I would have to stop and walk.

I try new things.  I'm more comfortable meeting new people.  I smile more. I strut like it's my job.  I don't mind my picture taken because I'm damn proud of my work. 

When I go shopping I automatically grab size XL shirts.  Old habits die hard and all.  But you know, it feels so good to go and put that shirt back, and grab a medium, or maybe even a small.  

I went swimsuit shopping before vacation.  It was the first time in years that I didn't feel like bursting into tears.  In fact I kinda had a fit of giggles in the dressing room. If something didn't work on me, it wasn't ME anymore...it's just a damn weird bathing suit- whatever!

Hearing "have you lost weight?" doesn't bother me like it does some people.  I smile really big and answer "yes!".  I'm glad people notice.  I feel for the first time in years that I'm noticeable.  

I'm not shaming my old body.  I'm not even mad that I went through that period in my life.  Hell- It's not like I have six-pack abs now.  I have a small layer of resistant cushy-ness.  Whatever.  I don't care that it stays there as long as I know my body can do so much more now. I can run, dance, hike: longer, better, stronger.  

My whole lifestyle is different.  It's better.  I'm happier.

Some people might think that I'm too proud.  But let me ask you this:

What kind of society do we live in, where it's more acceptable to hate your body, than to love it?

That doesn't mean that you have to love your body as is.  You can change whatever you want about yourself because that's the thing: it's YOUR body. Gain weight, lose weight.  Pierce yourself. Cut your hair.  Leave it long.  Just understand that what you leave behind isn't toxic.  It's just a different part of your life, and you can be proud of changing, or staying the same.  It's your choice because it's YOUR body.

I guess in the end it just means you do what makes you happy: do what makes you love yourself.

The rest will follow.

Driving is the most expensive prescription for my obsessive anxiety.

I think gas prices might far exceed the cost of any pill that would help.

But you know, I feel like the pills might be far less effective.

My truck roars when you crank the key in the ignition.  I know it's cliche, but it does.  It's a '94, so I crank my window down manually... but it's worth it when the air is rushing past the windshield and into my lungs.

While I love driving in general, it's the most cathartic at night.  I can forget there is a world past the barrier of light my headlights create.

Maybe I just drive at night because that's when I'm the most anxious.  I try to sleep and I find that my mind won't stop reeling. I can't stop worrying and obsessing and my heart clenches tight in my chest until I'm forced out of bed.

I used to drive the back roads back and forth between my school's two campuses...
Now I drive a route that takes me to a place where there are no streetlights, no houses, and plenty of fog.  When the sky is clear, it's the starriest sky I've ever seen.  When it isn't, it's the blackest place and it's like no one can reach me.

Sounds peaceful right?

Well, not exactly.  If driving was too peaceful, too quiet: well, I'd be right back where I started.  I might as well have stayed in bed and let my thoughts burn me down.

So I give myself a musical lobotomy, courtesy of my "Clear My Head" playlist, which I'm sharing with everyone:

Eyeless- Slipknot

Sic- Slipknot

Duality- Slipknot

Shameful- Atreyu

Bleeding Mascara- Atreyu 

You Eclipsed by Me- Atreyu

Unholy Confessions- Avenged Sevenfold

Desecrate Through Reverence- Avenged Sevenfold

Second Heartbeat- Avenged Sevenfold

Almost Easy- Avenged Sevenfold

Scream- Avenged Sevenfold

I Won't See You Tonight (Part 2)- Avenged Sevenfold

Bat Country- Avenged Sevenfold

I'm a Fake- The Used

Take It Away-The Used

A Box Full of Sharp Objects- The Used

Counting Bodies Like Sheep to the Rhythm of the War Drums- A Perfect Circle

4 Words (To Choke Upon)- Bullet For My Valentine

All These Things I Hate (Revolve Around Me)- Bullet For My Valentine

Tears Don't Fall (Part 2)- Bullet For My Valentine

Just Stop- Disturbed

Diefy- Disturbed

Stricken- Disturbed

Down With The Sickness- Disturbed

Ten Thousand Fists - Disturbed

I have been known to "sing" along to this playlist, and lose my voice for a couple of hours afterward.

If you don't like screaming, I don't recommend my music. I, however, do like it.  I like to let my music scream for me, when I can't. Or...when I just can't scream loud enough.

The lyrics just take my random, cluttered, persistent thoughts and order them into words, lines, stanzas, choruses:

"Far away, you keep on trying...
Holding me down, breaking away,
trying to distance my life.
Not one in the crowd, but one with the answer
the one that could change your mind

It's not true, I don't need you
Don't waste your time, and don't waste mine
I'm not your friend, won't soothe your soul
And in the end you're all dead to me...."

"Here's to lowering caskets of old friends, 

through choice and consequence we'll birth a new day 

with the death of an old and (Start over, start over)

here's to burying hatchets in those 

who you'd never call your friends

we'll birth a new day with the death of an old and (Start over, start over)"

"Did you take me for a fool
Or were you just too blind to see
That every effort made has failed
And there is no destroying me"

"Here comes the pain!
Enemy, show me what you wanna be.
I can handle anything, even if I can't handle you."

"I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise
‘Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways and that’s the way it stays
So how long did I expect love to outweigh ignorance?
By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip"

You get the idea.  I like my drama.  I like my screaming.  I love my truck.  I love empty road. I love speakers that shake the whole car and rattle the anxiety from my spine with every crescendo.

The road gives me something to focus on.  The music guides my breathing and lyrics replace thoughts.

After I get back from my drive I'm emotionally exhausted. I feel like I've let my thoughts and feelings get physically beaten from my body.  I feel comfortably numb...at least enough to sleep.

Some people might say I'm running from my problems.  I disagree.





I'm doing so much better than that.  I'm driving from them.  I hope my problems enjoy the acrid smell of burnt rubber and the sting of flying gravel as I leave them in the dust, because I won't stop anytime soon.