No one looks good in a broken mirror

Apparently the girls at work took a poll and I look better a little fatter than a little thinner.  I find two things interesting about this fact - the first obviously being that the poll took place, and two the outcome was just randomly said to me like I knew it was taking place. It doesn't bother me - although I do wonder if the outcome of the poll had been - I looked better a little thinner - if I would have been told the result. Something tells me the cold hard reality would still have been handed to me.  I have put on about ten pounds in the past two years after being at a very svelte weight for a very short time.  I think I still look good, but I would certainly feel a bit more comfortable with a Pitt/Clooney makeover/takeover of my body.


I finished the half marathon this year and I finished a full marathon last year.  I have a trainer I see twice a week, and I do cardo more often than I care to think about.  Still I manage to be a bit heavier than I really want to be.  Mostly due to the fact I compare myself against the likes of  Clooney and Pitt, and I have a severe carb addiction that occasionally rules my life.  I definitely shouldn't compare myself to movie stars and carbs although I love them like the children I never had - are the bane of my existence.  However, I work out so hard I think it may just kill me, and lets just say if I work any harder and don't achieve the Greek God physique right this minute I will be incredibly disappointed, I live in a beyond exhausted state, and I will continue to find the act of working this hard and looking this normal - a very difficult pill to swallow.   I reread that last bit and it is poorly written, doesn't make sense, and I refuse to change it because it's how I feel, and that doesn't make sense either - so there.


The fact of the matter is I wrestle with things we all do - self-image, and self- worth to name just two.  I often find I am very hard on myself despite the fact I have accomplished some fairly heady goals.  Liking the person I am is far from an easy thing to do when I know myself so well.  I can't hide behind the excuse of not knowing who I am, and not knowing what I want out of life, so judging my successes and failures just happens to be something I excel at. To date I have never succeeded to a full 'pat on the back', but occasionally I do give myself a 'that's not bad'.  Funny how if I am judging others I am very keen to give maximum allowances for things I would never tolerate about myself.  Therefore the fact I have lost 120 pounds counts for very little, but the fact I have gained 10 in two years is a glaring blot on my self evaluated minor success.  Ah the lack of that making any sense is not lost on me friends, but I have never denied the fact I need deep analysis and psychological help.


For the record we should all use the same scale when evaluating ourselves (that way we will be on the same page):


1  I am awesome
2 Good Show Ole Chap
3 Pat On The Back
4 That's Not Bad
5 You Have Got To Be Kidding Me
6 Is That The Best You Got
7 I should have stayed in bed
8 I Don't Even Want To Talk About It
 
I guess what started me off on this was the people I work with.  As you can tell they are interesting people who do not feel that boundaries are located in quite the same place as most people do, and frankly I'm good with that.  Between rude jokes that make you feel like you've been transported back to an office in the fifties (minus the ass slapping, but still keeping booze in the desk for an afternoon nip); to the general and regular homoerotic banter between male counterparts, it is a very strange place to spend a work day.  That is what makes the place special and I have been sad recently to see the things that make it unique start to die away.  There has been a general cleanse with the aim to make the place I work just as homogenized as every other work place in the world, and two things will no doubt result: 


1) It will no doubt be successful and wash away all that was once great about where I worked.
2) It will be the loss of something I love.


Honestly, the thought of living in the idealized fifties when people seemingly said what they meant and lived to an honor code rather than living in a world where we all pretend to love each other and let true feelings fester (this is all minus the actual world where women were not equals and race was what made you great - there is always a downside to everything).  So go ahead and tell me I look good a little heavier, just don't ask me to be happy when no one will tell me the truth.  I don't need those kind of friends, and I would rather know you hated me for who I am and what I stand for.  It would make me love you even more if you slapped me in the face when you said it.