i feel like no one but my family really loves me… and even then i think a few of those are out of obligation. it’s hard to love the fat girl that doesn’t love herself. i’m the fattie that always seems to be trying so hard to connect with others and failing miserably. i feel like i was only invited to this wedding out of obligation, not because we are even still friends. i can’t fake and pretend like someone is my best friend when i barely speak to them and even more when they don’t return my calls. some people obviously are much better at pretend world and as a result are going to be bridesmaids in said wedding. some people are obviously much better at getting people to pay for things and buy them things. not that i’m trying to do that, but it’s remarkable how some people manipulate others into financing all sorts of things, yet i try asking directly and honestly and it’s ignored. apparently she really doesn’t care about me at all or want me there. or maybe she is just so busy with the wedding she can’t think about it. or whatever. and maybe i don’t care about her, more about the big to-do, the luxury, extravagance of it all. truthfully, it’s not just the fact that the last minute transportation made it financially impossible for me to attend, but that i am insecure about how i look, what i would be wearing, and not being happy about it.

i had those anxieties even when i thought i WAS going. i was concerned about being around my old smoking friends, i was concerned about being the fat one, and i was concerned about spending an arm and a leg on a dress i was not comfortable in. so it’s probably better that i am not going, but i do wish i could be there to experience this special day. more than anything i wish i could feel confident and happy and full of joy on this day instead of feeling like an unconfident mess. i am so tired of feeling this way. i am so tired of being fat and so tired of saying i’m tired of being fat. every public event i go to leaves me feeling this way – from my own birthday party to a simple evening out on the town, i always feel depressed and anxious about my appearance.

it’s really unhealthy. i am really unhealthy. i am obsessed with not being fat to the point that i probably make myself fat. i don’t focus on being healthy, i focus on getting the weight off and how life will be so much better when i’m not fat. being obese really has got to be the worst of all disorders, addictions, ailments – whatever you want to call it – simply because it is immediately visible to everyone. our pain is on our sleeve and you can see it from across the street. sure, there are drug addicts, obsessive compulsive, alcoholics, and so many other ways people abuse themselves, but these are so much more accepted. It’s tragic, but alcoholics and drug addicts still have men hitting on them and wanting sex. fatties, not so much.

so i have a fucked up relationship with two of life’s essential activities – eating and fucking. i don’t want to get depressed but that is how i am feeling right now.

I’m nearly 30 years old, and as long as I can remember, I have been overweight and unhappy. Sure, there have been those brief moments where I have gone below the overweight line and felt confident and pleased with the results, but even then I was unhappy about my body and never quite reached my goals. It’s obvious I self sabotage and yet I continue to do it, despite having recognized it.

I just weighed myself on a friends scale and was appalled and shocked by the reading. I’m back over 200 and that is a number I never thought I would see on the scale again. I find myself wailing out loud – “Why did I do this to myself? Why?” and not having a good answer. 

There is a reoccurring thought process that I can’t let go of. Get my shit together and achieve these goals for myself. There are so many that I have achieved, yet so many important ones that I haven’t. It is very clear to me that the way I care for my body is unacceptable, yet somehow I can’t seem to make that commitment to really change long-term. I’m lazy I guess, but if that’s the case, I must really hate myself.

There are two things that I have wanted to achieve consistently, thought about on a day to day basis, and beat myself up over regularly – losing weight and quitting smoking. I know that I ingest toxic food and drinks on a regular basis, I know that I ingest toxic fumes from cigarettes that are killing me as often as I can. I have a chronic cough and occasionally sound like darth vader when I wake up in the morning. But,  I love to smoke and I love to eat bad food. What does this say about me that I know these things are terrible for me and I continue on like I’m going to the chair.

I’d like to live my life free of the guilt and burden of the detriment I am causing to my health. I want to be able to stop obsessing about finding the perfect clothes and being able to wear them all without worrying about them being too small. I am the girl with a closet full of designer clothing, shoes, and accessories, that rarely, if ever wears them. I’ve built the perfect closet, a nearly complete seasonal wardrobe, yet most of it hangs there, tags still attached, waiting for the day I magically get myself together and do what I’ve said I was going to do for the last 20+ years. At the rate I’m going, it will all be vintage if the day ever comes. 

I don’t want this for myself. It’s not just the closet, it’s my life that has taken a back burner and put on hold. I am not confident with my body and therefore I delay or refuse important life experiences that I resent myself for. For example, I have never been comfortable going to the beach or participating in any type of water activity because of my body. Because of that, I don’t fully enjoy myself or the experience. My body is constantly on my mind. You could say the same for going out to meet new people. I am self conscious of how I look and it effects me every hour of the day. 

I am going to try a new approach to achieve my goals, because I am really not after a number on the scale as much as I am after measurements, or being able to wear a size 8 or equivalent. In normal sizing, size 10-12 is the maximum size available. I am not talking about Old Navy here, I’m talking about my favorite designers and fashion that I covet to become a part of my closet. In jeans and such, this would be a size 29 or 30. I just want to be slightly below the top tier. I am not trying to be a size 2 or be stick thin, I just want to not have to always look for the biggest size. 

I am scared to measure myself, but I suppose measurements will probably be a better indicator than weight - after-all, I want to gain muscle and lose fat, and the tone and condition of my skin and body is just as important as the weight itself. It would be nice to know my measurements so I can actually use a sizing chart and know, instead of just guessing. 

I’m so upset and ashamed that I am back in this place of feeling miserable with myself and my body. I swore I’d never put the weight back on, and here I am years later almost back to where I started. I decided to start writing in a blog again because it is something that really helped me all of those years ago. I’m different now, but apparently I have slipped back into old habits of coping with life and stressful situations. 

I went to the doctor today and discovered I had gained 37 pounds in the past year. Not that this was a huge shock, I was figuring about 40 just by guessing what my previous weight had been. Of course the doctors scale always weighs higher than the at-home scale, but I remember leaving the doctor last year being upset my weight at THAT time. At that point, I had only gained about 20 pounds from my lowest weight, but I was still very disappointed. Today I weigh 57 pounds above my lowest weight. Wow. I just had to do the math to get that number and it is ASTONISHING. I am so completely and utterly ashamed that I have allowed myself to slip back to this point. I always said “that won’t happen to me” or “I will never regain the weight” and here I am writing about it. 

I have to say its somewhat defeating to think about. To remember how hard I worked and how easy it was to keep it off for all of those years and then how quickly I packed the pounds back on. I can see it in my body, especially my arms lately. I hate to look in the mirror because I am disgusted with myself. How could I have let this happen after everything that I have been through? How can I prevent this from happening again next time? Can I even do it? Am I crazy for thinking I could ever be anything other than a fat girl? Am I crazy to think I could move past it all and “get over it”? I really want to, I am so tired of fat being my life and being what defines me in my mind and others. 

I have become lethargic and lazy. Depressed and miserable. I hate myself and I hate my body for this. I know that I need to love myself and love my body to care for it properly, but how do you do that when you look at yourself in disgust? How can you? How can I? I guess I have got to try. I have to take care of my body. I have to love myself and my body to believe I can work through this and see it all the way through 100%. I have a tendency to go 85-95% and then give up and go the other direction. A fear of success and a fear of failure that has ultimately ended up be a sub conscious self fulfilling prophecy.

I have yet to truly succeed with my weight loss and body image goals and that is what I am going to set out to do one milestone at a time until I have reached 100%. I guess that means I will need to define those milestones and what exactly 100% means, but I will have to define those as I get a better grasp on how I am dealing with this all. I have some ideas in my head in terms of body fat % instead of numbers or pounds on the scale, but I’ll need to work out the math and make a concrete plan over the coming days.  I need to start out by keeping promises to myself. My first promise is that I will start the day off with a green smoothie and a 10 minute walk. Baby steps.