snitty the mirror through the camera's eye  a Civilization gone with the wind About the author: Christy works for a medical manufacturer sales engineering company. She's not a sales person or an engineer. She's an accountant. She's 34. She drives a PT Cruiser and runs a related website. She collects and wears vintage eyewear. She likes Saint Andre brie. Cats. Shoes. MAC. Hot Donuts NOW. She's allergic to pineapple and cooked fish. Yes: cooked fish. She tires quickly of writing in third person. Where is my mind? My experiences: the beginnings of stretched lobes. they don't cash ethics at the bank.

2009/10/19 15:05 oh hey, it's been over a month. I have little of new interest to report. Still working with a personal trainer, knees still trashed and still trying to push through all the damaged I've done to my body to be healthy now, despite the urges and pangs that tell me to take easier ways out. Still trying to go the entire day without looking in the mirror. We've been here for a year now, we still don't have the roofing insulation issue fixed and have sent a legal letter which we're waiting for response before proceeding with a lawsuit. I guess it's nice the new house came with a home warranty but it hasn't seemed to matter since we've failed to get the builder to honor the warranty. Fall has been amazing and the kittens are great. Although I have to warn you: letting your husband name your pets yields names like Meatball and Poopsock.

2009/09/19 10:55 My chiropractor told me I was a "highly functioning knot." I know he was speaking metaphorically but I also know he's right on multiple levels. I haven't made one new friend since we moved here a year ago. That's really pretty depressing sounding but when you consider having friends means also having to leave your house and get together, what I really haven't made is one more person to blow off and get anxious about. To be honest, I don't even know how you make friends anymore. Without school, without a workplace, without church or bars or whatever else there is, I don't know how to go about it. I've thought about ads on Craigslist but I've done that before and yielded nothing. How the hell would I describe myself? What am I looking for? Hm. Examine that: misanthropic INTJ/P with great sense of humor looking for friends. just as happy having a fine dinner out with friends and wine as sitting in front of a monitor blowing away pixels with fire while screaming "for the horde!" 85 year old insufferable pragmatic realist stuck in the chubby body of a 34 year old married woman. What exactly would we do? No idea. Maybe you could help me one my quest to create the perfect texture chocolate chip cookie (crisp on the edges but soft and gooey in the middle) or join my RockBand: we need a regular bass player and drummer. But reply soon and get the benefit of knowing me years before they find my cats nomming on my corpse. That's not actually too bad.

2009/08/27 16:58 I'm not genetically skinny. Or thin. Or even average. I come from a big people. I sometimes joke that when the apocalypse comes, I will not only exist but thrive and maintain my weight just simply on a diet of bugs and tree bark where those who I admire for their physical luck will wither away and die. I'm only halfway wishing for a global food emergency so I can finally be envied for my size..... But on a more serious note, as someone who is recovering from an eating disorder (in the way that someone who hasn't drank in 20 years is still considered a recovering alcoholic) it's really difficult for me to go to a trainer three times a week, log everything I eat and drink, and work to lose weight. It's harder still as I gain muscle to see the scale go up, the tape measure stay the same, and body fat go down but still look the "same." I know I'm eating healthy. I know I'm working out. I know I am getting stronger. And here's where it's really hard: seeing someone who is going about weight loss all the wrong ways, all the harmful ways, you once did. And they're making physical progress. It's like showing a cutter bloody photos. They're binging, purging, eating ridiculously low caloric intake daily, getting their energy from whatever drug they can get ahold of and they look fucking amazing....and here's my fat ass shlubbing away on an elliptical machine, sweating and looking anything but glamorous. You go to some event and manage to not dodge cameras. They tell you "we have a fabulous photo of you!" They send it. And you're staring at it, thinking "this is what they think is my best?" Sometimes it motivates you. Sometimes, it makes you want to lock the door and never see the light of day. But it pretty much always makes you feel like shit either way.

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