That White Dress

The dress fits. It zips. I can breathe. Just like the day I wore it. This is proof that numbers are just that. Numbers. I weigh approximately 15 pounds more today than I did January 6, 2001. I'm mostly okay with that. The normal part of me knows that's okay. But there's the eating disorder part that whispers so subtly - but so very loudly - that the number needs to be lower.

It's Eating Disorder Awareness Week.

Be aware.

Exercise addiction and eating disorders often go hand in hand. Most of me is completely recovered from the eating. I can do mind over matter for the most part. I hit the gym 25 days out of 31 in January. While most would consider this healthy - it's teetering on the line of obsession for me. It's caused me to pull out that dreaded scale again. The one I bought after I threw the other one out 7 years ago. The number determines the mood for the day. When asked what you would have if you could have anything for an entire day, what would you want? Me - I'd want to not think about my body, weight or food one single time in 24 hours. I'd want to be comfortable in my skin. Just even for a minute.

Boy Catchers

I really, really, really don't like getting my hair combed. But my Mom curled her hair super beautiful yesterday just special for my Dad. But he had to work extra late after my Mom was already sleeping so he didn't even get to see it. And my Mom only curls her hair once every 6 years. Anyway. I thought that curling iron thing was pretty awesome. So I let my Mom give me beautiful hair this morning before it was even breakfast time. Don't my curly pigtails just look fabulous?

Mom says maybe not with my finger up my nose.

My Dad doesn't have a gun. But if he did...he should polish it.

My Baby. Is gone. Long gone.

Can you believe I terrorize my big bro and sis? Impossible. I never, ever steal Avrie's blanket and run away squealing with glee. I never, ever, ever knock over Nolan's block towers and run away squealing with glee. Nuh-uh. No way. Like my Dagwood hair? My Mom cut it after this Tea Party. I wasn't supposed to be sitting on the table. Usually, I get a swat on my cute little thighs but Mom apparently thought it was cute this time.

Look at me! I think this is the first time I'm eating a cookie fresh from the oven. My Mom only makes them in her spare time. Which is almost never.

Awwwwwwe. I know. I really can't get over how cute my wittle fingers are either.

Life is good.

Conversation with the Twerps

Mom: What should we get Daddy for his birthday, guys?

Avrie: A shirt and pants and underwear! (Very enthusiastic!)

Nolan: Nooo!! We should get him something more exciting than that.

Avrie: Like a big, black Daddy necklace!

Nolan: Or a wig!

Mom: What kind of cake do you think he'd like?

Avrie: Superman!!

Nolan: No, a knife cake. Like the knife he takes to work.

I promise to post something substantial* soon. I'm just a titch busy living life at the present. I just had to post this link. In case any of you are emotionally stunted like me and need a good cry. I had snot pouring out of my nose. Nice image, no?

*The link is substantial. Very much so.