Superbowl of sloppy emotions
Hey hey, happy Monday night. How was everybody’s weekend? Did you do anything fun for the Superbowl? BTW – in case you didn’t notice, the SAINTS WON! So now I have to figure out a way to get to New Orleans next week. Double BTW, did anyone catch the commercial for the HBO miniseries The Pacific? One of my uncles has been very involved in the project, so it was exciting to see a spot for it during the Superbowl.
I went to my friends’ apartment last night to watch the big game. There, I drank a bunch of Mike’s Hard Lemonade, reminding me of junior high school when I thought I was a rebel for sneaking a bottle “unnoticed” from the fridge once a month, and tried to ignore the fact that I was in a room full of married couples who are all my age or younger. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I’m dying to get married any time soon or waiting around wishing for my boyfriend to put a ring on it. Honestly, before I met him, I didn’t really ever consider myself “the marrying kind” (yes, there is a Sex and the City reference relevant for nearly every instance in my life). Now, he and I are figuring out if we are supposed to be together but that’s another story for another time or never. It’s a really significant shift from my mentality three years ago and I’m still growing comfortable with it, but let me tell you, a night playing Taboo with a bunch of married people while you’re the only drunk single person in the room made me feel like Katherine Heigl in 27 Dresses, which in turn caused me to panic and think, “I’m 22, young, hot, still wild, why am I spending my night acting like I’m settled down already?” I’m not settled at all, my future is an absolute mystery, I can’t think past paying next month’s electricity bills, much less the marriage and children and career and real life responsibility.
Then on top of it… Well, last night is really the first time in months I’ve spent time with a lot of people from my usual social circle. A lot of my friends have graduated, and I have been taking classes at another school recently so we haven’t been seeing very much of each other lately. And apparently, I’ve lost weight since the last time I’ve seen most of them in June, and everyone kept commenting on it. Commenting on, yes, how good I look, wanting to know where I’ve been working out, what I’ve been eating. I credited Pilates and my vegetarian diet, because how could I possibly say, “Oh, well, I eat less than 1000 calories on most days because I’ve taught myself how to forget to eat and ignore being hungry, and subsist mainly on coffee.” Pilates has contributed to my overall improved physique and helped me towards a healthier mindset and attitude but it certainly isn’t an automatic cure to all my insecurities and negative habits. It’s crazy – I am SO AWARE of my body and my food intake all the time but the heightened attention elevated it and suddenly I was hyperconscious of my body and became paranoid about what other people may be thinking, which is probably why I’ve avoided intimate social gatherings as of late, and suddenly I had to get drunk or I couldn’t handle it.
Yes, I was a stressball of psychotic self-awareness and self-pity last night inside, but on the outside I took Queen’s advice, because the show must go on. It worries me how well I can play the part, sometimes, but now that I am aware that I am masquerading, that I am pretending everything is alright when maybe it isn’t, at least I can do something about. First step to recovery, acceptance? I think it goes something like that.
Deep breath, shake it off. I’ll probably be better tomorrow. I just needed to spill.