Well, I did pretty good until last night.
I've been eating healthy, exercising and trying to be nice to myself.
That doesn't stop what I see in the mirror, but I feel better, so if nothing happens to get me into that dress, at least I'm feeling healthy.
However, even though I can talk to myself about being healthy, the Anorexia Monster is nipping at my heels, very much in the same manner as Sir Bark-a-Lot when we have company.
Alas, the Anorexia Monster entered my dreams last night.
I dreamed I was at least 50 pounds heavier than I really am, and when we did the video shoot, the Grand Poohbah ...
aka the big boss lin ...
... stopped shooting and said, "Hold on, hold on! We have a bit of a problem here!"
She showed me the problem.
Great gobs of fat hanging from my stomach.
We had to cancel the video shoot and I had to go lose weight.
Jeeeeeeeezus Christ on a stick!
First of all, even if I was as heavy as the Andréa in the dream, we'd still be doing a video, because this video is not about perfect bodies who have suffered to be this way.
This video is about my craft, my art and my talent, not my fucking ass and stomach.
Second of all, I can get another dress that will flatter my curvacious body and I will still feel sexy, because sex appeal comes from within.
So, I woke up, and what do you think is the first thing I did?!?
If you guessed run to the mirror and lift my t-shirt up to reveal the stomach that doesn't look like the one in my dream, then you'd be correct.
It was actually good for me.
For a moment, I saw that I'm smaller than the person in the dream, even if it did switch very quickly into wayyyyyy too much heftiness on my hips.
That's when I stopped looking.
I'm eating my normal breakfast, and will eat my healthy food through the day, coupled with a gym/physio workout and nice words to myself.
Even if I can't get into that dress tomorrow, I'm trying to remind myself that this was a gown worn in my teens.
I have to remember that I'm a woman, not a young girl.
I have to remember that one of the sexiest women known, was a vivacious size 10, which in today's sizes bring Marilyn Monroe's size closer to a 16.
I have to remember that the fashion industry has started to make clothing smaller, so that we women have even more grief about our healthy bodies.
Fuck them and their fucking ridiculous sizes that make us, with eating disorders, cringe every time we need to buy a new pair of jeans.
Fuck them and their fucking air brushing to make an aging woman feel older than the stars we see in magazines.
Fuck them and their fucking rants about who's too fat or who's too thin.
Fuck them and their glorifying of mentally ill models, who are starving themselves for designers from hell.
I have had crying sessions in change rooms, where I've had to leave all the clothes I've tried on in a crumpled mess, that which reflects my mind.
Well, today I will be good to myself, even if I do see the dream Andréa in the mirror.
The mirror lies.
I have to remember that the only reason I have a mirror is to see if my outfits are not looking like a tossed salad with way too many clashing veggies.
Anyway, all I really want to say is, even if I can't fit into that dress tomorrow that I wore just 5 months ago, then fuck it.
I'm healthy, and there's another dress out there just waiting for me to slide my sexy booty into.