Saturday, January 10, 2009

Bloated but happy Saturday!

Today I feel like a balloon ready to pop. My stomach is very bloated which drives me crazy. Few of us enjoy this feeling. There are gurgling, airy noises coming from me. Looking at my tummy, you'd think that I am ready to give birth. Being very sensitive about body image, I am very bothered. I feel fat. My pants are not comfortable. I have been in the same position many times before. It passes. It's not the end of the world. I am still OK. If I keep telling myself this, maybe I'll believe it. If my best friend or the Observer were a bit heavier, I wouldn't care. I would care if they were unhappy, as I am when I'm a bit bigger. I wish my body size didn't have such importance to me. I wish I didn't dwell on a few pounds. My weight doesn't change who I am. It never will. I can only change how I feel about myself.

The person who helped me shower and get ready this morning talks a lot. Every Saturday my listening skills get a tune up when we see each other. She shares very personal information. I knew when she discovered that she had breast cancer, when her husband left her, and now I see her struggling to find her way. Today she told me that she wants to open a home for minorities in her country. She sounded excited. I told her to follow her heart and that providing service to those who need it is always a good idea. I listened and she didn't say a thing about my huge belly.

Visiting my friend at Union Station was fun. We met in late afternoon so lots of commuters were on their way home. Finding a place for my friend to sit was a challenge. She tracked down a bar-type area with a chair. We both felt lucky as we watched people stand for long periods. I have my own chair (my wheelchair) with me whenever I go, but I would have felt awful if she had to stand for the whole time. Our spot was at a cinnamon bun store, so we watched the employers roll the dough and sprinkle it with sugar again and again. If I had that job, I think I would get sick of cinnamon buns quickly.

The Observer is coming over today. I am not going to tell him that I feel fat. He needs to hear something more positive from me. Maybe "Happy Snowy Saturday!"


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