Esme on Hiatus....

Esme has taken a little hiatus to be able to focus on some other areas of her life. Everyone needs to take what they learn and run with it for awhile. All good, imo :)

Fat Esme Bleeds for You

It's Esme. I have my period and I feel as if every ride I've taken on the stationary bike has left me right where I started. This is literal. I've passed the scenery and the painted cardboard is crumbling with each step I take. It isn't the platform shoes, the agenda, or the bullet-ridden self-esteem. It's the part of being a woman that keeps every woman wanting else.
It isn't that I don't appreciate getting my period. After all, getting it proves to me that, above all else, I am healthy enough to be functioning regularly. It's like when the bank statement comes in the mail, without fail, Yes, You've Spent, But You're Still Part Of Our Estableshment. We're Still Holding On To A Part Of You. It Will Be Okay.
No, I'm not quoting.
It's about to pour again and it's a Saturday Morning and in a few minutes, I will have to do just what it is that I do for a living. I'll have 20-40 people up here in my studio, smiling at me, complaining at me, asking questions, wanting things. I'll spend the next several hours trying to make people feel good about themselves.
I wish I had a life understudy. I wish I could call her and stay in bed.
I tried to exercise this morning. I did.
I just feel like every muscle is wasting into a pit of fat-filled flesh. My guts are the Twinkie Cream and my skin is nothing but hardened-preserved, cake-like product.
Well, at least Twinkies could survive nuclear attacks.
At least I'm bleeding.
love, esme

Fat Esme Is Global Warming

Wow. Terri wrote in my blog. That's like going on a vacation for a while and coming back to find your apartment painted by the building management. Or like, finding that a roommate put a box of cookies in your side of the cabinet. Whichever. She also wrote:
"there's lots going on with you guys...but i'm not seeing it in the blogs :)" Which is just another friendly reminder to litter this cyber corner with my verbal purge. If only fat cells could be shed by verbosity.
Sometimes it seems like overweight people are in a better disposition. They'll smile more, laugh more easily, and openly appreciate attention. I feel like a bitter fat person. I know of course, that a lot of things can be a "front", a lot of emotions are projected to make up for pools of insecurities, a lot of jovial facial expressions are fighting the tears and blow-pops cover alcohol breath and weird jaw lines. But I digress... Don't I?
Anyway, I swear to god, I've been exercising all the time. Cucumbers and celery don't have a lot of calories. Coffee is excellent. (I know...) But back to it, there's an excellent place in the west village called McNulty's Coffee... it's run by an asian father and son who look italian and have jewish accents. I recommend the Organic Peruvian. The Organic Galapagos is a little bit too dark. Go with the Peruvian. Sweeten with Stevia and Nonfat Westsoy. You can't go wrong. (I know...)
I've been using 15 pound weights and also doing push-ups and crunches. Some friends have said I look thinner, but it's this really long miserable process and I think that even if I've lost some weight, it's only the incentive to realize that I can actually lose some of me and keep working harder and harder to get down to a normal size. Jesus, man, I just want to fit through the subway doors. When they say "Stand Clear of The Closing Doors" they are referring to me. The rest goes... "Because We Want to Close Them and Get This God-Damned Train Moving. Esme. Out!"
And it's so hot outside, I feel like my body is the sun, collapsing onto the tiny planet that can barely spin with the force of me smothering it. I am global warming.
And somewhere Al Gore is up in his cherry picker pointing to a spot at the top of his graph, mentioning nothing about factory farming being the number one producer of methane gas. Yes, cow shit. Screw SUV's. You can drive all the SUV's you want and it wouldn't equal your hamburger's cost to the environment.
There's a lot to worry about and I can't wait to be thinner to be more productive.
And if you think this is indulgent, remember: you are reading a stranger's blog.
Terri is amazing.
love, esme

Defying Celeb-Reality

I get emails about these blogs :) yes, people write me and ask me if these people are real, and I can only say - YES! LOLOL, If I could make all this up I'd be a highly paid screenwriter. I'm not nearly as entertaining or as clever as Esme is, but while part of her argues with me about body image there's also the part of her that's glad I'm not accepting what she's serving.

Esme has reached her goal - and it takes time for the brain's old patterns to get used to the new body it's living in. Negativity dies hard. But I'm here to keep trying.

Many times I have to tell clients what they need to hear - and most times they don't like it. But....I do it anyway, and hope they see where I'm coming from and trust that it's coming from a HEALTHY place.

It's about a healthy place. Not a 'skinny at all costs' place. Not a 'train through injury for no reason' place - I'm not the trainer to come to if you're trying to be Nicole Richie. Someone please feed that girl some protein and hand her a dumbell or two. Shes become very pointy.

Fat Esme and The Muscle Men

Right outside my office window, right across the street, there are men building a building and they are up to working on the floor parallell to mine (the 10th floor). So, I'm watching them actually BUILD a building and it's a big deal.

It doesn't seem like a big deal since everything is in buildings. But someone built them and these men are doing it right now. And I'm watching.

And I realized that things can't get done without some muscle. I do my push-ups every day, but carrying bags filled with cat food and litter upstairs to my apartment is where the muscle is important. I just don't want everything to be futile.

Terri is really smart. She has ways of accepting and not accepting things that is really admirable. I want muscle so I can function, but I want to be thin so I can function with self-esteem. I want to do good things and I don't want to always feel crappy about myself because my body is gross. I wonder if these men are thinking about their bodies or if they're just hauling it all up and together so people can rent a space and everyone can get paid.

love, esme

fat esme in an attempt to halt return...

Does writing twice in a row count for twice in a week? It's just so damn hard to sign onto this thing. It always freezes my computer and shuts it down. My computer is shocked at the blog log-in. It knows me all too well.

I'm not trying to cheat. I'm just being honest.

love, esme

Fat Esme. When things shouldn't.

The wrappers on Trident gum say "Good For Your Teeth."

Chocolate and vanilla are beans. Jamba juice is made with fruit. Milk has calicum.
Anything can be true if it's trademarked.

I've been sick for about 3 days and it's the first time I haven't exercized in a while. I'm not really eating much but I'm feeling fatter and fatter. I think I have a swelling disorder. I just feel enormous. I just want to get healthy and go exercise. Even when I get sick I try and do some exercising. My girlfriend laughs at me when she walks in the room and I'm doing crunches off the edge of the bed. She thinks I get obsessive about it, but really the difference is that she has an amazing metabolism. She can eat anything and she looks like a waifish model. I can smell food and instantly my fat cells mulitply, divide and conquer.

Who reads this blog? I've never read another person's blog. Some of my friends have said "Ohmygod, I had such a totallyinsane weekend. You have to go read my blog." I never have. I've never sat and read someone's blog. Why would anyone want to read this blog? It began as an advertisement and diarreahl testimonial to Terri's incredible work as NYC's finest personal trainer. And I guess it still is, but really, beyond purging her wonderfullness, I have to find some other things to fill the space. And who would read this?

I have to go back to sleep.

love, esme

fat esme on a bike that goes nowhere

From Terri: "Don't forget you guys - blogging has to be done twice/week....."
___
I never had a blog before this. I didn't even consider it. I always took the words "diary" and "journal" to mean very personal accounts. Like a private purge. Or dollar-store therapy. So actually going through the motions to set up a cyber platform for this seemed to me something only someone with an extraordinarily exciting life should do. Someone who has a life so absolutely fascinating that they are willing to forgo all sense of privacy for the sake of sharing that brilliance that they've been blessed with with readers who can't seem to get amazon.com to work and order a real book. So, this is worse than a literary documentary. My life isn't thrilling. I'm blogging about blubber, elephant thighs and rolls of fat, and the attempts to whittle them down to a size resembling some ideals of minor self-esteem.
That having been said. I worked with Terri on Wednesday at noon. It's Friday and I am happily sore. I feel like an asshole doing exercises involving quick movements or balance. I'm happier to just lift things or stand still and watch. But I want to be thin more than anything sometimes. And I don't know how much of this has to do with living in NYC among waifish foreign models, or just me wanting to forever take up less space. As it is, I use organic cotton bags, refillable cups and contribute to landfills as little as possible. In a blog, everything is a foggy metaphor. Don't accept plastic.
-esme