Well, shit.
I've finally done it. I've called Jenny, and I almost feel worse about it.
Jenny Craig, that is.
That's right - I'm fat. I need to lose 20lbs and the thought that I am that much overweight makes me want to vomit.
Some people may think that 20lbs isn't that much, but when you're 5'3"- 20lbs rears it's ugly head (or gut and ass, in my case) very noticeably.
This weight has been hanging around for awhile... I've been about 9lbs over for about 10 years now... but I've holding out, hoping that some self-driven initiative would kick-in and healthily chip away the weight and keep it off. Even after having two babies and 4 pregnancy-related abdominal surgeries, I've been able to remove the extra weight gained from that, and get back to that "naughty nine" that never leaves. But somehow (who am I kidding, I'm fat because I eat too much) in the last six months, I've been packing on weight... up 5, down 4, up 4, down 2... until I've come to this.
I'm not going to post my weight or what size I wear. What I can tell you is that I can't even look at my body in the mirror without practically feeling distain, and that is when I suck my stomach in. I can tell you that when I am in pictures I try to hide my body, and when there are pictures of me with my body in it, I delete them or untag them wherever possible. I'll let you know that I hate going out in public, because I would feel true shame if you saw me like this. I'll share with you that when I put on my pants, I worry a button is going to pop or a zipper is going to split. I'll admit that can't wait until the day is over so that I can come home and explode from my dress pants and pour into my forgiving pair of sweat pants.
Shit, if I were my jeans and I saw me coming, I (as the jeans) would howl at the heavens in protest, "Noooooooo! Not those thighs again!!! What have I done to deserve this!!! Whyyyyyyy!!!!"
I can't believe that this fat suit that I can't take off is supposed to be my body... it must be a mistake. I won't believe that I am supposed to surrender to middle age, and having babies, and being on antidepressants for 10 years as excuses to look this way. There is no effing way I'm going "gentle into that good night".
You know what the most shiteous thing is? It's that about 1/3 of the people out there, blogging right now, have this same heinous, daunting, craptastic suit on, too. I feel for you all, because when I look at you, I see me, which makes me look away.
So, I'm going to Jenny tomorrow... and I'll take a pic of myself tomorrow, too.
My "Last Supper" was 2 McDonalds grilled snack wraps with 1/4 of the wrap not eaten, a Rye and Diet, a kids fruit snack and a chocolate milk. I think of how addicts binge it up the last few hours before going to rehab, but I would only feel more self-loathing if I ate a Big Mac Meal or something...
Off to bed to dream of showing up naked, in this body, at my Highschool reunion.
No comments:
Post a Comment