I’m writing this in Barcelona. One of my favorite cities in the world. I’m really getting better at this blogging thing, and I hope you’re proud of me for it. I know I am.
Today, I am a little unsure why I am writing. Maybe to kill time before I force myself to get some work done. Maybe to get my thoughts together. Maybe just to document the feelings I’ve got going on today.
So here they are.
Irregularity Numero Uno
Three days ago. I set out in Madrid on the hunt for a new pair of jeans. You see, when you eat only pasta throughout Italy, and then drink only wine throughout Spain, you get a little wider. Little rounder. Little heavier. And when that happens, the size 2 jeans you bought in the states, that you were so happy to squeeze your ass into, don’t quite fit anymore. Long story short, there were 7 small little sown and resown rips in the inseam of my pants.
And so I went shopping. Aaaand didn’t find any. In my search I realized just how much I had expanded. As it turns out, I’m a size 8 these days. I’m not sure I’ve ever been a size 8. See here is where I start having weird feelings. The old me, the me before I started traveling, would have freaked. Cried. Screamed. Panicked.
But the traveling me just… didn’t.
All of a sudden, it didn’t matter. My mind was calm. It seemed to say, “So what. Your legs are bigger. Who cares.”
Surprised with this, I grew happy. So happy in fact, that I continued my shopping. No jeans though. What I did find was a really obnoxious print button up shirt. And for whatever reason, it brought me joy. So I got it. (I’m sure you’ll see it in one of my pictures eventually. I truly love it.)
And now I’m not sure how to feel about this irregularity. Is that entire section of my life over? The insecurity and anxiety I’ve had over my weight for so long seemed to just vanish. It was almost like a part of me went missing a little. Where does that leave me?
Irregularity Numero Dos
Two days ago. I was in Madrid, and I met a guy from Washington DC. One of the dry guys I was talking about.. remember them from the last post?
Well. When I spoke to them, I was my usual self. I made the usual jokes, had the usual behaviors, ripped into them with the usual sarcasm. Nothing out of the ordinary, right?
The thing that was unusual though, was that when I started telling one of them, Kyle, about my job I mentioned how I started out pretty young and had been doing it for almost a decade. He suddenly connected the dots and looked at me sideways.
“How old even are you, anyway?”
I looked back at him, confused by the sudden interest. “19, why?”
“Holy shit. Really?”
“Oh my god, I thought you were at least 27.”
…27. Wow. That’s a new one. He said it was because of the way I acted. Because of the experiences I had. Because of the way I behaved around people.
Or maybe he was just hoping I was 27. Maybe I do actually seem that old. Maybe.
Regardless, it threw me off.
Irregularity Numero Tres
Now. I recently got to Barcelona, checked into a hostel, and started meeting people (as one does while traveling). This wasn’t all that irregular. You meet tons of people along the way and usually end up with dozens of new facebook contacts. (Just expect this to happen, and always have your facebook on hand. You might end up meeting up with these people in other cities/parts of the globe again).
The thing that was irregular though, was that I met a woman from Florida, chatted away with her for a while and ended up following her on Instagram. Not that strange, right? When she followed me back though, she did a quick rundown of my recent posts (as one does) and commented on a photo of my sister, Kiva, and I. You know this one?
She did a double take. Looked at the picture, looked at me. Looked back at the picture, back at me. “That’s not you, is it??” she asked, incredulously. “There’s no way that’s you!” “You don’t even look like her.”
“Oh, I’m the one on the right” I laughed.
She responded. “Yeah! That’s who I’m talking about! You don’t look anything like that..”
And this is where my third weird feeling comes in. That photo was from this time last year. Have I really changed that much? So much so that the me from a year ago is unrecognizable?? I’m not sure.
There’s a reason this comment was so strange to me. You see, I’ve gotten that response too many times to count. From people all over the globe. I wonder if my face is really changing that radically? And even further, if I am just changing that radically?
So, here I am. On a constant crux of change. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Always shifting. As my birthday grows nearer, I feel this change. Unstoppable and turbulently thrashing through my life. Taking no prisoners. Leaving no trace of the old me.
Change, Adapt, Grow, Repeat.
What are your thoughts?