Weighing In

So boogie had her 18-month check-up today. It still boggles me that she's a year and a half old already. I'm so doomed for when she gets to double digits.



but speaking of double digits... I have to admit I'm very proud of the pooper. She has maintained the ability to stay in the lower 10th percentile for weight!!! I do realize that that's pretty low, and that's NOT what I'm proud about... what I'm celebrating is that she's no longer in her downward trend, and has seemed to find a place on the chart (mind you ON the chart... another reason to be happy) and actually stay there for the past 2 checkups.


So fully clothed, the nurse said her weight was 21 pounds, 10 ounces. of course, today is actually a cold day, so I donned rhena in her heaviest sweater, jeans, and onesie I could... but nonetheless... she broke 21 pounds.

And it's funny... I obsess about weight like the number really matters. Well, maybe not funny funny, but just a trend I notice in myself.


I've always been a number freak. could explain the reason why I went into engineering, but I know it doesn't come close to explaining the obsessive behavior I get when it comes to dealing with my weight. Like three or five pounds really matter???

When I was pregnant with Rhena, my weight was all over the board. mainly in the downward trend, but then there was a week where I would gain six pounds, then loose 4 the next.

and the numbers are just plain bullshit, anyway.... what one person can do to 135 pounds can be another person's nightmare. And even if my weight in numbers is lower than when I got married, that doesn't mean shit fits the same. oh, no. the numbers. all smoke and mirrors.


and with certain numbers doesn't necessarily come happiness. The more weight I lose, the more I feel inclined to lose even more. and I KNOW there's others out there just like that. which is FINE to some extent. but when you constantly find yourself five pounds away from happiness, regardless of the weight you're at... it might be time to find a new thing to make you happy.


and the more I think about my OWN fucked up sense of self-image, I begin to wonder what little baby Rhena will grow up to be like. I mean... I know for DAMN sure Hollywood isn't exactly producing any great role models...so it's even more obvious the onus is on me. which I'm *totally* cool with... but after yay-so-many years of depreciating my own physical value.. is it too late for me to turn over a new leaf? Does acceptance of one's self always equate to slovenly appearances?


all in all, I'm comfortable with myself. sure there's things I could and SHOULD change, but I'm not about to go out and do the steps to facilitate those changes... so I should forego my right to bitch. But we all know I like to bitch about SOMETHING (ok... anything.. everything) and so I do.


Then you add in the social sphere of camaraderie of bitching about one's weight, and I'm unstoppable. I can go on for at LEAST an hour with comparisons of my ass to all sorts of Map Objects. (and yes... I'm feeling a little tired at the moment, so I WON'T carry on about the size of my ass, but you can all check it off your Cze-Bingo cards, cause I did indeed blog about my ass)

so anyways.. the whole social "I'm fat" brigade. I know I willingly participate in conversations where I insist my ass is akin to a double whopper with two time zones... but at the end of the day... it doesn't really bother me THAT much. but it's habit, and makes for fun conversation. it really does.


But alas... the older Rhena gets, then more I really think about the things I'm saying and the impact they have on her. If I go on and on about my ass being so HUUUUGE, and yet secretly am comfortable (and if not comfortable, then at the very least content to the point of no action necessary) with my bubbliciousness, then what message am I sending to Rhena? That it's ok to bitch and not take any measures to make changes? hmmm. not good.

maybe I'm sending the message that it's socially acceptable (maybe expected?) to depreciate oneself? hmmm. that's not so good either.

SO it all boils down to the fact that I'm realizing that these little things we spew out into the world are so much more than our children. The Sopranos used one of my favorite Spiderman lines last night in the coming attractions:

"With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility"


no shit, brother. no shit. I hope I'm up to the part.