Fat Chance

scale omg!

Fake trigger warning: This will be sort of a pity party rant. If that triggers you into self-pity, skip this one.

I am fat. There’s just no getting around it anymore. I am fat.

I know how I got this way. Too much eating and not enough exercise. It’s pretty simple. If I went into detail, it would be baby weight that never came off and psych meds. There’s nothing like being overweight and taking a drug that makes you hungry. But sometimes that’s the only drug that works.

I’ve been trying to lose weight. I was on an all liquid diet for a while. That didn’t really work and was expensive. I’ve switched to Jenny Craig. The food is good.

I am struggling for a lot of reasons, but one is my family. I need to cook dinner every night for 4-5 people. Well, believe me, by the time I shop for it, cook it, and clean it up, I am not going to miss out on it. I have been trying to make my portions look like Jenny Craig size, but I’m probably still eating a bigger serving than I should. And I know that all of the ingredients in my cooking are not super low cal.

Things keep coming up. For example, I was in the hospital a couple of weeks ago. You’d better believe the food was hardly diet. I had a couple of fruit plates with cottage cheese which weren’t bad. Although all of the food was fattening, the portions were pretty reasonable. And you got one dessert per day. But truly, when you are in the hospital calories are the last thing on your mind.

I don’t go out to eat too often, but when I do I have a hard time just ordering “diet” food. The place where I did the liquid diet has educated me on what to select but I struggle. I have given up desserts out, but I still want a glass of white wine and some bread.

I wanted to talk about self-image. Now I am not incredibly obese, but when I am in a room, I am definitely one of those on the heavy side. There have been times when I have looked at delicate chairs or furniture and been nervous about them holding my weight. There have been times when chairs are narrow and I feel uncomfortable.

I don’t hold my head up like I used to. I don’t have the confidence I once had. I just feel fat.

Let’s talk about being naked. In high school, I never minded the locker room. I wasn’t an exhibitionist, but walked around like all the other girls. No big deal. As I got older and would go shopping with friends, I’d get in a large changing room with some other friend and try on clothes. Again no big deal…even when I still had the baby weight on. But now I can’t stand to be naked. I don’t like to look at myself in the mirror. There’s no way many people are going to see me without clothes on. That’s depressing. Not that I want to parade around naked, but I’m tired of hiding out. I guess the exceptions are my husband, massage therapist, and assorted doctors.

My husband says he doesn’t care. And I really think he is only worried about the weight as a health issue. (My father died at 57 from diabetes.) My husband isn’t the body building type so he’s no thin miracle. But he weighs much less and looks much better than I do. I’m just glad he doesn’t nag me about it. Or maybe he should.

I had a massage yesterday and cringed a bit when I got naked. Of course, you’re covered with a sheet, but she is still massaging, legs, arms, and other fat.

Now part of me realizes that a massage therapist has probably seen everything twice. But I still feel a little uneasy. Which is sad. Massage should be something you thoroughly enjoy.

Anyone remember my shower fear? That fear is mostly gone, but I now have sort of a shower aversion. I swear some of it is because I don’t like to see myself naked. It’s incredibly depressing. Which is something I really don’t need.

I’m meeting a new friend next week. When she first lays eyes on me, I know what she will think. “Boy, she is fat!”

I have a few friends that are heavier than I am. But most of my friends are normally thin. I think most of my friends are like my husband…they just get concerned about my health.

Should we dive in and talk about bathing suits? Where I live, you can’t avoid them. Not to mention travel. I have the kind with the short skirt. I feel a lot more comfortable with my bottom and all covered up. But I hate swimsuits. I feel like a stuffed sausage in one. I can’t wait to peel it off after swimming.

I know what I need to do to lose weight. I need to watch every single thing that goes in my mouth and make sure they are all good choices. I need to exercise. That’s really about it. I’d just like to lose a pound a week. I don’t think it should be that difficult.

I really don’t want to die fat. I don’t want to be fat when my kids get married. I don’t want my high school friends to have a heart attack when they see me.

There have been almost no pictures taken of me in the last several years. I have a big phobia about cameras. I just look so bad. But I know pictures are important. It’s nice for the kids to have them.

It’s a new month. May. Let’s see what I can get done this month. For one thing, I am going to buy a better scale. Today, I am also going to eat what I am supposed to. And I’m going to do something about exercise. I don’t know what, but I have to try.

This post is not designed to elicit a bunch of sympathy from you readers. I am fat and it is basically my fault. Nothing sympathetic there. So maybe you could wish me good luck. A pound a week.

I can do it.

Comments are closed.