So, I’m fat…
again…
I never thought I’d be here again, but I am; overweight and overtired. I am really good at denial when it suits my addiction. I keep telling myself my weight gain isn’t so bad. But each time I see a photo of myself I flinch at the reality. So I avoid pictures, and sliding glass doors on sunny days. I try to hide. I love winter the best because I can hide in layers: long coats, pants, sweaters, jackets. But it is getting harder to hide from all the facebook uploads by friends. And, anyway, hiding doesn’t really suit my personality, or my goals.
I am not going to lie to you by saying I don’t know how this happened. I know exactly how it happened.
It started with a bad break-up five years ago; it takes a long time to gain this much extra weight. At first, I ate because I was lonely; not lonely for him, just lonely. Next, I ate because I was lonely and stressed. Then I ate because I was lonely, stressed, and resigned. Mostly, I drank a lot of wine, but there was Double Fudge Brownie ice cream involved too. I remember pizza, lots of pizza… and Cheetohs. Oh, and Red Vines.
It’s easy to think that gaining weight doesn’t matter, that real friends will love you no matter what. And, while this is very true, my real friends do love me unconditionally, being overweight makes it hard to love myself. I feel an overwhelming sense of letting myself down. I have been both thin and healthy; and overweight and overtired. I know I am missing out on life because I don’t feel confident to have adventures. I know, because when I was thin and healthy I had a lot of adventures. I had confidence in myself. I trusted myself. I want to know how I went from trusting myself, taking care of myself, to trusting in Papa Murphy’s Pizza and chocolate chip cookies instead. I want to know, because I don’t want to make this mistake ever
…again.
