Who's that short, fat chick then?

I think I have whatever the opposite of Body dysmorphic disorder is.

I'm not being flippant here, but I am constantly surprised to find I'm a short, fat middle aged woman. I catch a glimpse of my reflection as I walk past a window and I just don't recognise that person. In my head I'm at least 6 inches taller and a whole person lighter. In fact, in my head I have a whole other life. Not only am I a tall, slim redheaded biker chick, but I am also fluent in Italian, French, German, Russian and Polish, bake my own bread and write bestselling novels in my spare time.

Is this self -delusion caused by my inner line-dancing, wild Texan, ranch owning, wilderness loving redhead (Fantasy me #74) yearning to break free or am I just in denial up to and beyond my oxters?

Being fat has given me an odd relationship with my body. I mostly ignore the way it looks ("no? really - wouldn't have guessed by looking at you" I hear you say!)and think of it as the way my face and mind get carted around, kind of like Davros clone in his fish tank phase. I do have many bts of my body that I am fond of and some which I greatly admire, for example I think I have an outstanding right forearm. I have always liked this bit. It has that slight arm-out-the-car-window colour and a lovely mole. As a kid I liked to watch how the sinews, tendons, muscles and other lumpy bits under the skin moved when I used my arm, I was doing this whilst riding my bicycle round in circles on the road when I smacked into a car coming in the opposite direction. I shot up over the bonnet and roof and landed behind the car. I leapt to my feet and ran away with the driver (probably having cacked himself) out the car and yelling "I know your father!". He almost certainly did, we lived on an RAF camp where everyone knew everthing about everyone and if they didn't they just made it up anyway. Fortunately Dad was in the outer Hebrides or somewhere at the time so never knew how my lovely forearm and I had nearly ended up as roadkill. What was I thinking as I was admiring my arm whilst cycling? I was thinking about how it looked like a boy's arm and that was a good thing - I could wear shorts and football boots and play with Nicholas Rigby's action men instead of shaven headed Sindy... Fantasy me #2 One day I shall tell you about gypsy princess me with the jailbird brother.