self-absorption

I’m beginning to feel the lining of my money-less pockets. First it was the bridesmaid’s skirt, then a few fancy meals, the gym and trainer, and all those freakin’ doctor’s appointments. I have three appointments next week:

• My second at the eye doctor’s. (I’m doing a happy little dance about getting contacts, but my astigmatisms make the little things bloody expensive.)
• My third at the dentist. (This inlay better look damn good for all the money insurance won’t cover on it.)
• My first at the oral surgeon. (It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer.)

I have a fear of cancer. Most people, especially most people in my family, die from some sort of cancer. The exception would be my dad, who lived through it. So I’m a wee bit paranoid. (My roomie would say I’m much more than a wee bit, but this isn’t her blog, so that doesn’t much matter.)

Another addition to my fear: Carla, the woman who gave me my first editorial internship, died from cancer that began under her tongue. And I have this white bump under my tongue.

You’d think all of this would be reason for me to get to the oral surgeon right away to have him remove it, check it out, and relieve my fears. But I’ve been avoiding this for almost a year. I’ve been afraid. It’s most likely nothing, and that’s exactly what I’ve persuaded myself. If it’s nothing, it’s not that important to deal with it right now. I can ignore it. I can pretend it doesn’t exist. I can pretend that I’m OK and not fearful.

But at least I’m doing it now. I can’t live my life as a chicken. (Chicken isn’t one of my favorite meats anyway.) So I’ve made the appointment. And I’ve done something else I was afraid of: I joined a gym.

My avoidance of gyms was another irrational fear of mine. Outside of the money, I avoided the things because I didn’t think I deserved to be there. Yes, crazy, I know. But I thought my fatness would be conspicuous among all that muscle and leanness. And I still hold on to this feeling that I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve to be anything but the fat girl, which is sick, I know. I’m working on it.

Surprisingly, the gym fee wasn’t a huge financial burden. (The trainer on the other hand…) And the only time I feel a bit conspicuous is when I cross to the far side of the gym where the free weights are. As I’m using my little 5- and 8-pound weights, I get a few glances reflected in the mirror from guys with 50- and 80-pound weights. One of these days I will get over caring what complete strangers think of me. It’s really quite self-absorbed of me. Although, what is this blog, if not a platform for me to get attention from you, my readers?