the fixer

anytime i use the term "fixer" when describing someone i generally have the image of mr. wolf in pulp fiction. a tarantino staple of the film. a man who gets called in to fix other people's problem. in the case of pulp fiction, he is called in to fix vincent's brain splattering fuckup in the backseat of a car. slowly, calmly, mr. wolf appears and directs, orders, fixes the situation.

now, this may seem like a real hipster reference for me, and we all know i'm nowhere near being labeled as a hipster, but it's just the example that's on my mind. and just so i clear something up from the get go here, i'm not a catagorizing sort. i hate to be put in a box and doubt anyone else likes a label attached to them either. it's just that there's a pattern. a real pattern for me and my relationships with "fixers".

i was at a drinks/dinner function with folks from work the other night. a lot of fun. there's one colleague in particular who i find myself most comfortable and most engaged. it's a man, no real surprise there, and i appreciate and love having men as friends. always have and now is no different. we were talking on a deeper level than just "shop talk" and in the course of our conversation it hit me. i'm attracted to people who are fixers!

when i say attracted, don't misinterpret. i'm not attracted to him in a romantic sense. he's attractive, yes. he's bright, funny, kind, easy conversation,etc. but just as friends. with that disclaimer out of the way....he makes me think outside the box. really interesting guy. so here we are talking and comparing life experiences and the way we look at things in general. we have similar philosophies and ideals. we have similar approaches to problem solving and then it hit me. he's a fixer. justin is a fixer. i'm in essence deep down a fixer too.

in usual iris style, i started dissecting my past and present only to find that i've always been drawn to fixers. certainly this love i have with ownsastud is rooted in that quality to come in and overhaul. to start over. start fresh. fix the broken parts. this had me thinking: am i attracted to "fixers" because i am one myself? is it just that birds of a feather flock together or is it something deeper?

so this all started friday evening and here i was, sunday morning, still wrestling with this fixer realization. and when i say wrestling, i mean really losing sleep over the whole fucking lot. i wasn't feeling like myself. a pissy version of myself. so justin comes over, we go out to have breakfast and it happened again. that collision of conversation that we so often share and it hit me. right there in the middle of eggs at the suburban village inn on a sunday morning. i am desperate to be fixed. i want my flaws, my problems, my life, my shortcomings to be fixed by someone, anyone, anything. that's what i've always wanted. to be fixed. to have a fatal flaw corrected. to just be someone else. and i've been looking for it in other people for as long as i can remember. wow. pick me up off the fucking floor with this epiphany!

no wonder i haven't been able to give up using food to cope. it's my fixer. it's my fixative. it reinforces just how much i don't accept the core of who i am. with all the fat layers over it, nobody can see what i see. nobody can get to what i can get to. nope. nobody can get deep down into me to see the ugliness. where the hell did this fear of self come from? when did it start and how do i get it to stop? when will i stop trying to fix what is not broken?

those are all questions i can't answer right now. perhaps i never will answer them and frankly, i don't know that they need an answer. just acceptance. i'm not broken and i don't need anyone or anything to fix me and i know that. my logical self knows this as fact but emotionally, deep down, i still see myself as broken.

instead of seeking those that fix, i'm going to take some time to myself. i'm purging my brain, once again, of the negative feelings and the way i see myself. instead i'm trying on a different pair of glasses and looking hard, really really hard, for what other see in me. if you see me walking around squinting and complaining that everything looks blurry, you'll know that i'm still working hard at trying to find myself. just hope it doesn't turn into a search for waldo. i don't look good in stripes.

what i miss about 100lbs.

there's a saying that goes something like this...that the past is always sweeter in your memory than it was in reality. i have to say, i think that's a general truth. past lovers who you have lost but didn't want to lose always seem more amazing in your memory than in the reality of that moment. if it's a happy "past" experience, we tend to dwell on the positive. same thing can be said for a negative memory. a trauma. a time we would like to forget yet it haunts us with it's reckless negativity. things are never what we imagine. good or bad. we don't have accurate raw memories. it just doesn't happen.

i've noticed lately that many of my stories of the past begin with "but you have to understand, i was skinny back then". or "back in the day" before telling a sexually explicit tale of indiscretion. as if being skinny makes it justifiable or more acceptable that i won a wet t-shirt contest that helped pay my rent in college. yes, true story. somehow though, i feel like i have to set up the story so people understand that i wasn't in a wet t-shirt contest while weighing 222lbs.

now, if you didn't pick up on that number then you need to look again. yes, i'm admitting my weight. here, on the world wide whack, for everyone to see. the enormity of my weight current day is around 222lbs. and i own it. i'm not afraid of the number. instead i'm still astounded by it. this number i have in my head and the number i see on the scale are so largely out of proportion to each other that it seems insurmountable sometimes. it's easier to think in past terms of a skinny version of myself. one that i remember but that i question in my minds' depiction. was it really all "that"?

i began wondering, what did it feel like to be 125? how did it feel to live in that skin compared to this one? granted, it's 100lbs. different but what did that feel like deep down as well as on the surface? what do i miss about that triple digit difference?

what i miss about 100lbs. less of iris!

- small bras!!! or at least considerably smaller. i had a breast reduction and at 125lbs.with the new rack complete, i was a nice round firm 34C. i now ring in at a 40G. i miss those more manageable tits. they were nice.

- a waist line. oh, how i miss that part of my figure. not that i was ever one to have a total six pack abtastic crunchorific mid section but fuck, i always had a small waist and a fairly flat stomach.

- seeing my toes. i could easily look down and see my toes. i miss being able to do that.

- trimming. yes, i said trimming. and no, i don't mean those toenails i could easily see. i'm talking about the female trimming. i could easily shave my legs and see exactly what needed to be trimmed in other regions. now it's just hit or miss. my girlscaping was meticulous. now it looks more like a drunken edward scissorhands got a hold of my nether region!

- energy. i had so much more energy. the stairs were no problem, early mornings were easy. things just moved more smoothly and easily with the additional energy...although i don't think being in my 20's hurt either.

-clothes. i looked forward to buying cute outfits. it was nice to wear something with 8 in it that didn't include a 1 or an X in front of it. 

- positive frame of mind. exercise was a daily occurrence, not just something i would try a couple times a month and end up breathless and feeling desperate. nope. i could run 5 miles a day and i did and i liked it. so good for my head.

- thongs. this one might come as a surprise. some women loath butt floss but i always liked it. perhaps it just made me feel sexy but i loved the feel of not really having on underwear but still being comfortable that if i were pulled from a car with the jaws of life that my mother would be able to hold her head high at the country club.

what surprises me about this list, and i'm sure there are plenty of other things i miss but right now can't think of them, is nowhere in these statements is there any missing "happiness". being thin didn't make me happy. shit, i could have been my optimal weight, perfect bmi, looked like fuckin brooke burke and i still wouldn't have been happy in my life. my life wasn't happy. it was just thin.

the things i don't miss about being 125lbs. was the constant tracking of food, to the point of obsession. i don't miss the feeling of guilt every time i took an extra bite here or there. i don't miss the feeling of desperation to find happiness and true acceptance. i don't miss the feeling of an empty life.

so although the 100 extra pounds weighs heavily on me, both physically and emotionally, it is just 100lbs. it is not the end of the world. it is not the end of my life. it is not the end of happiness. it's the end of an old sorry story and the beginning of my new life. my new happiness. now is the time to start focusing on losing the weight. not all of it. maybe just 5lbs. to start. maybe 10 and if that feels good maybe 20. i don't have to run 5 miles a day. maybe just walk 5 minutes. maybe, just maybe, slow and steady will win this race. 

whatever happens i'm happy saying that i am 222lbs., every damn ounce of it, and no matter what i weigh, life isn't waiting to begin. i've taken it by the balls and am riding the hell out of it. all 222lbs. of it. and fyi...i could still win the hell out of a wet t-shirt contest. the tits are still pretty fucking spectacular!