Three Moments

Tuesday: Tom was so sweet last night. He asked me how I was feeling, and when I said that I was still struggling, he said he was sorry and hugged me. While we prepared and ate dinner, I talked a little about eating very much, gaining weight, and how it plunged me into a crisis, and all the things I wrote about in my last post, about Sissy and what she told me etc. Tom listened to me and said he was sorry, and he took my hand and said not to worry about him. I understood it to mean that he didn’t mind some weight gain, which was very reassuring. Nobody minds, apparently, except me. We also talked about diets and how many women are always trying to lose weight or have to watch their food. I think it’s sad, and yet I am not willing or ready to trust my body and let it find its natural shape, but want to be thinner because I identify with being thin, even though I never was. Tom is naturally thin (though not very lean) and he said that he couldn’t eat when he felt stressed. In my case it’s the opposite.

After dinner, we lay down on the bed and embraced and talked a little. I still felt self-conscious, feeling how tight my dress was, and didn’t dare kiss Tom or do anything. But when he began kissing and caressing me, I was able to respond. He doesn’t mind. He still likes me with more fat on me. (My skin even looks better now that I’ve filled out a little.) He told me that he thinks I’m sweet and pretty, and called me his Angelina Jolie. I still don’t see much resemblance, but he means it as a compliment. I had put on more make-up than usual on Sunday and taken pictures of my face and suddenly found my nose too big and knobbly, and told Tom about it. He said he thought my nose was pretty, too, which was reassuring to hear. June always tells me the same. I did not tell Tom that I found him handsome or beautiful, because I generally don’t. Just that evening as he was brushing his teeth, I had caught myself wondering why I found him attractive. Objectively, he isn’t handsome. There is beauty in him, but it is subtle. It is in his hands, his slender waist, his shoulder and collar bones, his smooth white arms with their tattoos. His lips and teeth, his fine eyebrows that I like to stroke. His soft voice, and the way he pronounces certain words. His intelligence, humour and depth. There are moments when he seems utterly beautiful to me.


Thursday: I am feeling tentatively more optimistic and ‘me’ since last night. It’s many-layered and complicated, but I think the worst is over and while I’m not sure how exactly to go on, I want to go on. So far, despite a weak moment and many impulses, I have not binged today and it seems possible to bear again. Anyway, I wanted to write about two special moments last night.

I went to ballet class (despite feeling fat and weak) and it helped my mood and self-esteem so much. I even listened to my music again on the way, and it no longer hurt me. Coming home and knowing that Tom was already there, I looked at my windows and wondered where he was. The light over the kitchen table was on, so I went and stood on the little ledge beside the neighbouring house, which lets you see half the room. There was Tom, sitting at the table, with his head in his hand. He was holding a pen and looking down, reading. So like him to be working. It struck me as slightly bizarre to see a practically strange man sitting at my own kitchen table. Even though we’ve been together for months now, he still seems like that sometimes. Gina came down her ladder, meowed at me and began exploring the dark garden. Tom couldn’t see me and I was able to look at him in peace. He didn’t look short or slight or unattractive, but serious and manly. He was moving his hand back and forth over his head, as I have done many times, and I seemed to feel his hair against my own hand. There was a slightly sentimental song (Over You by Ingrid Michaelson) playing in my ears, one I have always associated with being in love. Looking at Tom in that special, intimate way, together with the music, made me feel a strong surge of love, admiration, wonder and attraction all at once. There he was, so serious and clever and affectionate and special and MINE. He is so precious to me. A small part of me also felt guilty for ‘spying’ on Tom, but I didn’t mean to be secretive and was going to tell him about it later. He suddenly lifted his head and seemed to look at me, but his eyes didn’t focus on me. He moved his hand rhythmically and seemed to be reciting a phrase (my dear ancient language enthusiast!), then his eyes glanced up at the clock. Almost nine. Time to go in. For a second, I looked up at the stars and considered going in and telling him, ‘I love you’ right then. But then the ‘He’s a stranger and I don’t know enough about him’ thought and cowardice set in. And I don’t want to feel ugly and fat when I make myself vulnerable like that. I went in and told him I’d seen him and made light of it.

When we were in bed later, I told Tom that when I had looked at him through the window, I had thought ‘I care about you so much’. He said he felt the same and we held each other very close. Then Tom reminded me of the last night, where he had embraced me from behind for a short time (until I felt too warm and moved away) and we had both sleepily agreed that it was lovely. It’s nice when Tom tells me what he wants. I readily turned away from him and he held me in both his arms, moving very close to me. It truly is wonderful to be held like that. I felt so safe and loved and close. Yes, I was still a little depressed and worried and yes, I had binged that day and was fat, but nothing could truly hurt me just then. That was the second special moment. We slept like that for most of the night.


About annalienor

Lover of beauty, adult ballet student, deliberate creator wannabe.
This entry was posted in Ballet, Health, Love, Moment, My Cat. Bookmark the permalink.

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