Skinny-fat...

Has it really been a week since I last posted? I wish I could say that I was on vacation or something rather fabulous, like that. But the truth is I've just been busy with regular old-life-stuff.


Last week the Hubster was sick with a cold, a cold that I may or may not have passed along to him. But he's all better now, basically, so our marriage is safe, yet again. But with Hubster being sick I was busy tending to him-- okay, so that is a lie too. But I did go get him some cold medicine after work last week and I did get him a glass of water and a tissue one time.

Anyway, last week I just got distracted. I've started walking a little bit with my mom. Since she is retired now and I live on a very non-busy road, a couple afternoons a week, we take off walking. All the walking and the shower and nap afterward ate into my posting time.

Did I mention that I've developed an uncharacteristic fondness for napping? I can't seem to get enough sleep anymore. I'm trying hard not to think about what that could mean.

Fall officially happened last week-- I felt its cold hand, this morning. And, of course, the sudden weather change has got me all out of sorts. My sinuses are acting up, which had me convinced I had the Swine Flu. It turns out a headache was just a headache. To make matters more depressing than the Swine Flu, I have to start dressing for the cold mornings and hot afternoons. But either way, after watching the new episode of the Rachel Zoe Project on Bravo last night, I went to my closet to find the latest greatest chilly-morning-warm-afternoon appropriate work outfit that I could muster-- I was motivated.

And then I discovered that I'm the fattest skinny person you're ever going to meet. Is it possible to be skinny fat? Yes. The only problem with being skinny fat—regular sized people think you are a whinier with an eating disorder.

My whole life I've been the shortest and the tiniest of all my friends and family members-- even my cousin's that were still in elementary school when I was in college were giants compared to me. My whole life I've been "little Emily" which is fine, although it should be said, I hate being short. But that aside, I’ve been little my whole life—fine— I'm little!

I've listened for years as friends and family members complained about having to lose weight for prom or their wedding or for swimsuit season. I even feel that I drove one former friend crazy, literally crazy, because I could eat whatever I wanted and never gained an ounce while she just barely looked at a grain of rice and her ass would explode. I've listened for years to people talking about diets-- crazy diets where they only ate egg whites and grapefruit or cut out carbs and everything that makes food good. I've always listened and never participated.

And now, that I'm experiencing an uncharacteristic metabolic slow-down and subsequent weight gain, as minor as it might be, I have no one to complain to because regular sized people think I'm crazy-whining-skinny girl. I can't even talk to my mom or sister about this new issue, because they just laugh at me and start worrying I’ve became an anorexic.

Here’s what I know. I’m a five foot tall person that wishes I was five foot seven inches tall. I weigh a healthy 103.5 pounds… which I’m proud of considering that when I graduated from high school I was barely 93 pounds. And last night when I went to try on a couple pairs of my Fall/Winter dress pants, they fit—but more snuggly than I would have liked. I’m hoping it was bloat… or gas, which is likely considering I ate a FiberOne bar at lunch.

But either way I deserve to bitch and moan just like all the rest of the American women I know.