Tuesday, July 30, 2002
I haven’t felt this bad about eating in a long time.
Long ago, in high school and even university, to me food was fuel. I didn’t much care to eat. If I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t hungry. I never craved chocolate, or McDonald’s or ice cream. I mostly ate fruit and veggies, some muffins here and there. I drank a lot of coffee, and V-8. I didn’t think I had food issues, but I probably did. I was 5’10”, 110 pounds! You could count my ribs by sight. But I was healthy, I played sports, I did stuff. I would even eat socially, if everyone went to McDonald’s, or had pizza, I had some, sure. I just had a token amount, because I wasn’t hungry.
I don’t remember ever going ‘god I wish I hadn’t eaten that’. I’m sure I did, but it wasn’t some traumatic experience. I never ate a whole cake, or a whole tub of Hagen Daaz. Or a whole pizza, a whole bag of chips or anything. I just never had the desire to do so.
Of course, when Jeri changed, and when I changed, I never regretted anything I ate… I mostly regretted wasting so many years NOT eating! I learned how to love to eat, to try new foods, new food combinations. How to cook, how to create new recipes, how to tweak ones I found to make them interesting. I loved food, I loved to eat, and aside from some failed experiments, never felt bad about what I ate!
But once I broke 400 pounds, I started becoming acutely aware that I was indeed quite fat! But that didn’t really curb my appetite much. Though I was starting to feel… that I shouldn’t be eating so much, that I was getting to be too big. Ian was encouraging me though, he made me feel, happy, comfortable as I grew larger. I hate to think that I gained weight FOR him. But it may just be that I was not eating less for him. Subtle difference, but it makes all the difference to me. I was eating for me, fat for him, everyone was happy.
Even as I got up to 450 pounds, I still loved to eat. I’d feel bad for being fat, but would never sit back and wish I hadn’t eaten what I’d just eaten.
Well, after helping Jeri and James get their new place ready (I painted Amanda’s room, it was a lot of work, but it looks FANTASTIC!), I needed to spend some time on me. Since Ian was helping James set stuff up, I was home alone last night. So, what does a fat chick do when she’s alone and bored? She eats. I’ve still got huge stores of food from when Ian was gaining. We’re going through it much slower… but not last night! I had chips, cookies, ice cream. I went out and got some (okay a lot) of KFC. I have no idea how much I ate, but it was a LOT. I woke up this morning feeling more lethargic than ever, I could tell it was from that huge mass of food clogging my gut.
I’ve really enjoyed the last little while, focusing on fattening Ian has had the side effect of letting me drop some weight.
Just seeing the needle on the scale head lower was a real high point of my recent weeks! The thought of Ian getting HUGE and me getting TINY was playing out in all my little fantasies. But now… more than ever… I just feel like a huge fat eating machine. I don’t think I’ll ever be thin again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal again.
I’m tired of being the fat chick. I’m tired of having food be so important to me. I want to go back to high school when a bag of carrot and celery would last me the day. I want to go back to when women were jealous of how thin I was. I want to go back to when I could walk into a store, buy the smallest size they had and not even have to try it on. I want to see my feet! I want to run. I want to sit at a table at McDonald’s!
There are so many things that I want to do that I can’t. Things that I always took for granted, never enjoyed when I could.
Long ago, in high school and even university, to me food was fuel. I didn’t much care to eat. If I wasn’t hungry, I wasn’t hungry. I never craved chocolate, or McDonald’s or ice cream. I mostly ate fruit and veggies, some muffins here and there. I drank a lot of coffee, and V-8. I didn’t think I had food issues, but I probably did. I was 5’10”, 110 pounds! You could count my ribs by sight. But I was healthy, I played sports, I did stuff. I would even eat socially, if everyone went to McDonald’s, or had pizza, I had some, sure. I just had a token amount, because I wasn’t hungry.
I don’t remember ever going ‘god I wish I hadn’t eaten that’. I’m sure I did, but it wasn’t some traumatic experience. I never ate a whole cake, or a whole tub of Hagen Daaz. Or a whole pizza, a whole bag of chips or anything. I just never had the desire to do so.
Of course, when Jeri changed, and when I changed, I never regretted anything I ate… I mostly regretted wasting so many years NOT eating! I learned how to love to eat, to try new foods, new food combinations. How to cook, how to create new recipes, how to tweak ones I found to make them interesting. I loved food, I loved to eat, and aside from some failed experiments, never felt bad about what I ate!
But once I broke 400 pounds, I started becoming acutely aware that I was indeed quite fat! But that didn’t really curb my appetite much. Though I was starting to feel… that I shouldn’t be eating so much, that I was getting to be too big. Ian was encouraging me though, he made me feel, happy, comfortable as I grew larger. I hate to think that I gained weight FOR him. But it may just be that I was not eating less for him. Subtle difference, but it makes all the difference to me. I was eating for me, fat for him, everyone was happy.
Even as I got up to 450 pounds, I still loved to eat. I’d feel bad for being fat, but would never sit back and wish I hadn’t eaten what I’d just eaten.
Well, after helping Jeri and James get their new place ready (I painted Amanda’s room, it was a lot of work, but it looks FANTASTIC!), I needed to spend some time on me. Since Ian was helping James set stuff up, I was home alone last night. So, what does a fat chick do when she’s alone and bored? She eats. I’ve still got huge stores of food from when Ian was gaining. We’re going through it much slower… but not last night! I had chips, cookies, ice cream. I went out and got some (okay a lot) of KFC. I have no idea how much I ate, but it was a LOT. I woke up this morning feeling more lethargic than ever, I could tell it was from that huge mass of food clogging my gut.
I’ve really enjoyed the last little while, focusing on fattening Ian has had the side effect of letting me drop some weight.
Just seeing the needle on the scale head lower was a real high point of my recent weeks! The thought of Ian getting HUGE and me getting TINY was playing out in all my little fantasies. But now… more than ever… I just feel like a huge fat eating machine. I don’t think I’ll ever be thin again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be normal again.
I’m tired of being the fat chick. I’m tired of having food be so important to me. I want to go back to high school when a bag of carrot and celery would last me the day. I want to go back to when women were jealous of how thin I was. I want to go back to when I could walk into a store, buy the smallest size they had and not even have to try it on. I want to see my feet! I want to run. I want to sit at a table at McDonald’s!
There are so many things that I want to do that I can’t. Things that I always took for granted, never enjoyed when I could.
// posted by Charlotte @ 10:48:00 AM 
