No, this has nothing to do with a horrific new Quentin Tarentino movie or the like.
My summer class has just come to an end and I realize that I haven't blogged since the beginning of summer. But that's okay cause it's not like much has happened anyway. Between Clinical Microbiology, Parisitology, and Mycology, I've learned that people are safer living in a bubble and having absolutely no fun at all because no matter what you do, you CAN contract some form of bacterial disease or a nasty parasite wherein you spend the rest of your life bed-ridden or hospitalized.
So, so horrible. So everyone just go home now and start building a fort and stock up on lots of bleach, phenol, and well... whatever else that's needed.
LOL
As if... I don't think life would be as fascinating if I couldn't have my raw octopus sushi every so often. And my closest friend would murder if she was told she had to eat all of her steaks cooked to cardboard form.
But anyway, I just checked my grade for the class and I'm fairly content. I didn't get the 'A' that I had been hoping for. That's my fault cause I really should have tried studying more for the first test, because had that grade been a little higher, then I might have hit the borderline for an 'A' and I would at least feel good about it. I managed a high 'B' percent on the last test which then landed me a high 'B' percent in the class overall.
I'm content with it, but not ecstatic. Had I tried harder, I think results would have been different, but I got lazy and so it's my own damn fault that I didn't get that 'A' I wanted so badly.
But anyway again, in other news, everyone seems to be taking a few weeks off during this time as well. While I sit at home and allow my brain to turn into mush for a while before remolding at the end of the month, so are my brothers and my parents. Well, actually, the parental units are only taking a few days off at a time cause they couldn't take more than that, but they're still home and I'm still going to hear it from them regularly.
AT LEAST there's one thing I don't have to hear from them anymore:
As of yesterday evening, my friend and I have begun a rather vigorous exercise regimen wherein we kill ourselves slowly with 3 mile walks, 2 hour tennis playing in the hot beating sun, and another hour of going to the gym.
You know, image has never been an issue for me, but being obese and out of shape has been bothering me for the past few years and I find myself wondering when I ended up becoming so self-conscious about it. I mean, it's not like I was never self-conscious-- since the beginning of time, I've always had low self-esteem.
Growing up with parents who consistently, without fail, compare you to all three of your brothers and be told that you're fat on a regular basis and be told that you're a useless little girl if you don't learn how to cook, clean, take out the trash, babysit the boys, and be an eternal slave did NOTHING to help my already diminishing self-dignity. On top of that, you make friends with some of the smartest girls in school, spend your childhood known as "the crybaby" and are always afraid of what everyone thinks about you to the point that life holds no meaning anymore.
It was fun times until I hit high school and realized that I really did not care what anyone else thought. Truth be told, I followed in my older brother's footsteps for a while until I realized how stupid and retard that particular ideal was. My brother is not a god and has made more mistakes than any normal human being should be allowed. And through him, I learned that I really don't want to be just like him (set aside the fact that he is a male and I am not).
I stopped caring. My parents continued to tell me that I'm fat and slow and clumsy and useless. I continued my epic journey to prove them wrong by being an over-achiever and surpassing everyone in everything if I could manage it.
Okay, so I didn't quit caring what my parents thought about me, but that can't be helped since I've lived in my family's shadow my entire life.
But the fact of the matter was, as far as image goes, I never cared. I don't have a clue how much I weighed back in high school. I don't know what size pants I fit into and I did not care that all of my clothes came from the men's section of a clearance blowout from Venture two years prior. I did what I liked with my own preppy and casual "fashion". Life was so simple.
And then, somehow, after reaching college (as the only official child in this family still in college, then and now) I stopped caring even more. I've proven my point. My brother dropped out of college cause he couldn't handle it and I managed to stay in college... but because there was no more reason to prove to my parents that I'm the smartest person in this family, I just quit trying. No drive, no results. I wasn't even acknowledged anyway, and somehow, my brother was still their pride and joy.
My older brother is a very smart person. A genius, even, if he had simply been able to apply himself. He's successful now with a great position, a good paying job, and he has oodles of experience to back him up. I know this and I can finally acknowledge this-- college does not make one smarter and I feel it actually makes one dumber and more arrogant. I hate myself so much that it sucks.
Anyway, somewhere along the lines of that time period, I began to realize that my self-image was actually quite important to me. I learned from one doctor's office visit that I am way overweight and still gaining. This made me confused at first and then it made me frustrated.
How did I never feel that I was overweight? How did I never realize that I don't fit into my old clothes like I used to? And why is it that now that I've realized how fat I am, I just keep gaining and gaining? Every shirt is tighter now, every pair of jeans does not fit anymore, and food just makes me realize how much of a pig I am-- despite the fact that I still eat it all like its water.
So here I am, trying my best to get rid of all of this excessive weight that's ruined my perfectly good "I don't care about my image" reputation. I care now because I'd like to be able to fit into clothes without looking funny and without going through the XXX-large section every time. And I'd also like my parents to quit telling me that I'm fat and that I need to lose weight, but hey, have another piece of cake, it'll make you feel better.
Say what?
Whatever, I'm just listening to broken records.
Anyway, now that that's out, I need to jump back into my original subject... of which I don't even remember after having ranted my heart out to the world.
Well, I actually do have three weeks off until the Fall semester begins. Pending my work schedule, I think I'll spend a lot of my time going out with my friend and doing out work-outs. It's not like I have anything else to do, really.
And on top of that, even though I said that I'd let my brain turn into mush, I think I'lll end up pulling out my Blood Bank notes and reviewing them a little before classes start again. I need all the studying I can get, because we all know that I'm a useless, stupid, overweight slave girl.
Case closed: as soon as I'm done with this program, I'm seeking employment out of state so that I don't end up blowing my fat stupid brains out, which will happen if I continue to live under my parents' roof and under their constant scrutination of how I do things and why don't act more like my brothers.
One of these days, I hope that they realize that I AM their daughter and NOT their son and that if I am told that I'm fat and need to lose weight one more time, I might scream.
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