Link posted on 7.06.09
Link posted on 7.06.09
Photo posted on 7.05.09
Photo posted on 7.05.09
Text posted on 7.05.09

I don’t want to need reassurance about my beauty.  I’ve worked damn hard over the last year and a half to love myself, have confidence, and embrace who I am without comparing myself to others.  But the automatic assumption that I am not beautiful, attractive, good enough is a hard habit to break.

Photo posted on 7.05.09
Me and Ruby.

Me and Ruby.

Text posted on 6.15.09

Maybe it’s because my job is…um…challenging

I work at a public housing project.  It’s a high-rise with some added amenities such as a computer room and an exercise (since no one could ever fit this equipment in their shoe box-sized apartments).  Of course the exercise room is rarely used so I figured I’d give it a try.  Every evening when I get off work, I used the treadmill.  I always thought I’d hate using a treadmill because I hate walking as exercise.  What I’ve discovered is that I hate walking for exercise because I never know when my blood sugar will drop (a rare side-effect of exercising while on a particular medication), when my knee will start hurting, when my ankle will give (it still hurts from the last time I blacked out from low blood sugar while exercising and severely sprained it).  I’m always convinced that I’m going to go out and not be able to get back and that anxiety makes walking a bad choice for me.  But on a treadmill, I have control.  Plus I’m inside, away from bugs and the heat and people staring at me because a fat woman exercising is so confusing for others to see.  It’s particularly nice when I can watch TV, but someone stole the remote.

So yeah, I it’s nice.  In fact, I spend all day looking forward to it.  

Link posted on 6.14.09
Photo posted on 6.14.09
Photo posted on 6.14.09
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