Sometimes My Mind Plays Tricks On Me

I had a good reality check today when I was bitching to my dietitian about how shit my body image is, and she told me that I looked noticeably, "worryingly" thinner than I did at last week's appointment. She even threw the e-word at me -- emaciated -- which my eating disorder loves to hear. Driving back I realized how absurd it was that I liked being called emaciated. It's like taking it as a compliment if someone tells you that your face is covered in zits, or your hair is greasy, or you're ugly. "You have terrible body odor" -- "Thanks! I've smelled worse, but I appreciate the sentiment." It makes about that much sense.

Anyway, I feel like a fucking whale, but that's to be expected. It doesn't help that I'm having a hot flash -- my body image is always worse when I'm sweaty. Usually I'm freezing, but I guess right now my body's all "OMG CALORIES THIS IS SO EXCITING LET'S HAVE A DANCE PARTY!" I just hope my liver is doing better. I need to get labs drawn next week to find out.

Ugh. I don't feel empty and I hate it.

Oh, so in other news, I got my first theatre history paper back today. Ordinarily, this is the most bullshit class in the world, and I ace the class without batting an eyelash (or attending), as does everyfuckingone else, but this semester I'm actually trying for two reasons:

1) my TA is pretty much the only TA in the class who takes this shit seriously, and he's a ridiculously tough grader relative to what should be demanded in that class; and

2) I kind of have a huge crush on said TA.

I know I've mentioned him before. He's German but spent half of his childhood in France, so he speaks both languages and has the perfect amalgamation of both accents. It's so fucking dreamy. Not to mention he's incredibly gorgeous to begin with, which I thought before I heard him talk, so it's not just his suave foreign appeal. No. This guy is an aesthetic triple threat: cute, hot, and sexy. It's really difficult to be all three. He manages. Basically I've been using my Friday TA sections as a time to really put an effort into my appearance: I wear clothes I really dig, usually ensembles that make my legs look like they go up to Canada, but nothing slutty. I'm actually a really good dresser when I try. And I enjoy trying. It just becomes a lot less fun in the eating disorder. But I really do love fashion, and I love my own style.

Anyhow, I don't think my TA is into me in any tangible way, but I am aware that he notices. Oftentimes I catch him giving me a nice once-or-twice-over when I walk into class. I also actually try to participate in discussions so that I can pretend I'm, you know, hot and smart. Most of the time I half-ass a comment with some vague reference to something I probably read about in high school, but he always looks impressed. And says stuff like "you made that point beautifully." Beautifully. Swoon.

Anyway, I wanted to impress him with this bullshit paper, so I actually put a shred of effort into it -- though I do mean a shred. It was by no means a great literary achievement. I will not be submitting it to any peer-reviewed journals. Usually when I have to write a paper, I can get away with murder just by being a good writer. My ideas can be crap, but if I use all semicolons responsibly and my sentences flow easily from one to the other, with a steady near-poetic rhythm, a lot of graders are willing to overlook the rest. (Note: I don't try to do this on my blog. My blog is strictly a jumbled, stream-of-consciousness mess. Please, please, for the love of God, do not try to gauge my writing ability based on my blog. It's embarrassing.) So I wrote my paper, knew I could have done better but also knew that for this class I've always done much worse, and submitted it.

Then today, as my TA was handing back papers, he gave us a lecture about how a lot of the papers were really not very good. That as a whole, we didn't think critically, our theses were sloppy, we didn't use enough evidence to support our arguments, our textual references were lacking, etc.

"There were maybe one or two of you who really blew me away; whose papers I enjoyed reading because I actually learned something new," he said. "The rest... hm," and he shrugged with an adorable half-smile, as if to say, no real harm done, but seriously, guys.

By this time I was pretty sure my paper was in the "hm" pile, but I went up to retrieve my submission, flipped through pages of green check marks and scribbles that I would get to later -- just let me see the letter at the end first -- and was both relieved and overjoyed when I saw a beautiful big "A" at the bottom of the last page, with the following comment:

"[AJ], wonderful job! Clear and concise. Great examples and a good 'flow.' A pleasure to read your paper, and to have you enrich our discussions on Friday. Continue this way onwards."

As soon as we were all safely out of the room, papers in hand, I melodramatically clutched the paper to my v-necked chest and mused to a tolerable sophomore, "I love him." She laughed.

And that's how long it takes me to tell you I got an "A" on a paper.


^ Yay life! Energy! Validation! Cellular regeneration!
*(Not manic, I promise. I'm just naturally ridiculous.)