So I am more than plump. More than the dreaded F word. I am obese, morbidly obese. How sick does that sound? I am killing my life with fat. I can’t participate in so many things because of my size. I want to do things. Little things. Everyday things. Cross my legs. Walk in a restaurant and not worry if I will fit in the chair or the booth. Shop in a normal store. A store where I am not going immediately to the largest size and seeing if the “number” is high enough to fit me. I want to go to the beach and not worry about what I am wearing or what other people are thinking. I want to walk in a room and not search out other fat woman so I won’t feel so out of place or hope like hell that I am not the “fattest” one there. I want to be able to go to new places and not be so worried that I make myself sick wondering it they have one of those turnstiles and praying like hell that if they do “please just let me fit.” I want to go to an amusement park and ride a ride. Not tell people “I just don’t like to do that.”
Funny, I say that a lot about things. I don’t really like to shop. I don’t really like to go to clubs and dance. I don’t really like to fly. I don’t really like…. There is always something. But the truth is I have stopped my life for fat. It has taken over me and controls what I do, when I do it, and how long I can do it.
Now I am so very tired. Tired of counting calories, fat grams, carbs, or points. Tired of starting each Monday morning with hope that this time will be different. This time something has changed. Only to get to Wednesday and hear the same self doubting thoughts play in my head about failing. Tired of pills, shakes, prepackaged meals. Tired of empty promises made by ads telling me how fast, how quick the weight will melt off. Tired of looking in the mirror and hating what I see. Tired of holding on to the belief that if I try just one more thing it will work. I am just tired.
Don’t get me wrong. I want to be slim. I do. I want all those little things in life. Having my husbands arms fit around me. Seeing the line of my jaw. Walking with nothing jiggling that shouldn’t be jiggling. Tucking in my shirts. Wearing a belt that doesn’t disappear into a fat roll. Sliding into a pair of jeans and not thinking about how tight they will be later if I eat. Painting my own toenails again. Fitting in an airline seat without the extender for the seatbelt. And maybe, just maybe, loving the me that I see in the mirror.
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2 comments:
I read your blog and it is like reading my inner thoughts, it's scary.
I wonder why it seems that those friends of mine that are heavy seem to have all the willpower and drive to stick to thier diet and then there is me, I don't...am I just that weak?
You can do it!! One day at a time!
I really don't think it's weakness. I think it's about finding that motivation inside of you that will always be a source of inspiration. Will power will only carry me so far...then I'm off to my next cheeseburger. But when I find something that inspires me??? Well that's when the world needs to look out!
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