Wednesday, July 31, 2002
The last thing I want to do...
... is turn into one of those miserable women who bitch and complain at how unfair life is because they are fat.
When I was skinny, I made fun of these people, because to me being fat was your own problem, your own fault. Just eat less, exercise more and shut up you fat bitch.
Of course, the shoe is now on the other foot. However, the skinny chick in me still says the same thing. The annoying part is, I know it’s true! It’s my own fucking fault I’m fat. I need to eat less and exercise more.
But, of course, it’s more than that. I don’t like to be so defeatist. I’ve always done what I wanted, and it’s kind of hard to suddenly come across something that I can’t do: be skinny. It’s hard having a goal that I can’t fulfill quickly. I’ve always set to tasks, set goals, but rarely did I plan ahead. School was different, had no choice but to take a few years to earn a degree! But that was just the background of my life, I had other goals that came first.
I have a few unfulfilled goals: I’d like to travel to Europe. I’d like a really nice car. (My Focus is nice, but you’d never confuse it for a Jaguar.) I’d like to be happily married. I’d like to run a large museum. I’d love to own a giant art collection.
A lot of these goals seem… indefinite. I’m not really sure if I’d be happy if I achieved them anyway. If I went to Europe, I’d just want to go back. If I had a really nice car, I’d want a nicer one, or lament the one feature it was missing. If I was happily married, I couldn’t date any more. If I ran a large museum, I’d be inundated with mundane tasks that would make me loathe my job. With a giant art collection I’d regret not having the pieces I REALLY wanted.
So the same would apply to being thin. I remember being thin. I enjoyed it. But I didn’t enjoy it so much that I gave a second thought to quadrupling my body weight! I used to be 110 pounds. I am now 443 pounds. Four times larger than I used to be. Just incredible.
On the way up, I didn’t mind. I loved it. I loved every bite, every pound, everything! But once I passed 400, it just started setting in. I was TOO fat. I’m too fat to get good clothes, I’m too fat to be comfortable on the subway. Hell, I’m too fat to eat at McDonald’s. How fucking fat can you be that you’re too fat for a place who’s soul business is MAKING PEOPLE FAT?!
I recently read that there is a doctor who does Weight Lost Surgery in London who is losing his practise. I’d never considered the surgery, but I found out he’s the only one who performs it on people over 400 pounds. HOW THE HELL CAN I WEIGH TOO MUCH TO HAVE WEIGHT LOSS SURGERY!?!?!?!?!??!
As you might have guessed, I gained weight over the last week. Just a pound, but still it’s my first gain in over a month.
Ian’s busy crowing how great he feels at 403 pounds, and I’m stuck here at 443. He’s a huge fucking whale, and I’m bigger.
I hate this feeling. I hate being down on myself. I can accept internal criticism when it comes to my art. That’s what strives to make me a better artist. Someday I will finish something I can truly marvel at, and then I will be ready for the world to judge my art. But when I feel bad about how I look, that just bugs me.
I got fat on purpose, so I have no right to be angry. I’m trying to lose weight, I’m several pounds away from my all time high. I’ve been good. I should be happy that I’ve found what I want to do (lose weight, duh).
But I want to stop being this big. I want to stop being hungry, I want to stop craving food, eating it without noticing. I want to stop being stared at all the time. I want to buy nice clothes. I want sit on the floor, and be able to get up! (I didn’t realise I couldn’t until this weekend! I was painting Amanda’s mural and got stuck on the floor!)
I will miss being fat too. I’ll look back, when I’m 110 lbs again, and wish I had the big boobs, the ability to command attention by entering the room, be able to eat any and every thing. I’ll miss being bigger than Ian, being twice as big as Jeri. I loved that feeling, when I first got, of being twice Jeri’s size! That was my goal. That’s also when things started getting out of hand.
I think that was my goal, to experience being twice her size, like she’d experienced being twice my size. Of course, that’s long past. She’s down to 175 pounds. Yikes… I’m 2 and a half times her size now! I totally felt it on the weekend too. She’s lifting heavy boxes, doing moving. What was I doing? I was keeping Amanda out of the way. I was a useless lump. I’m too fat to help people do stuff.
... is turn into one of those miserable women who bitch and complain at how unfair life is because they are fat.
When I was skinny, I made fun of these people, because to me being fat was your own problem, your own fault. Just eat less, exercise more and shut up you fat bitch.
Of course, the shoe is now on the other foot. However, the skinny chick in me still says the same thing. The annoying part is, I know it’s true! It’s my own fucking fault I’m fat. I need to eat less and exercise more.
But, of course, it’s more than that. I don’t like to be so defeatist. I’ve always done what I wanted, and it’s kind of hard to suddenly come across something that I can’t do: be skinny. It’s hard having a goal that I can’t fulfill quickly. I’ve always set to tasks, set goals, but rarely did I plan ahead. School was different, had no choice but to take a few years to earn a degree! But that was just the background of my life, I had other goals that came first.
I have a few unfulfilled goals: I’d like to travel to Europe. I’d like a really nice car. (My Focus is nice, but you’d never confuse it for a Jaguar.) I’d like to be happily married. I’d like to run a large museum. I’d love to own a giant art collection.
A lot of these goals seem… indefinite. I’m not really sure if I’d be happy if I achieved them anyway. If I went to Europe, I’d just want to go back. If I had a really nice car, I’d want a nicer one, or lament the one feature it was missing. If I was happily married, I couldn’t date any more. If I ran a large museum, I’d be inundated with mundane tasks that would make me loathe my job. With a giant art collection I’d regret not having the pieces I REALLY wanted.
So the same would apply to being thin. I remember being thin. I enjoyed it. But I didn’t enjoy it so much that I gave a second thought to quadrupling my body weight! I used to be 110 pounds. I am now 443 pounds. Four times larger than I used to be. Just incredible.
On the way up, I didn’t mind. I loved it. I loved every bite, every pound, everything! But once I passed 400, it just started setting in. I was TOO fat. I’m too fat to get good clothes, I’m too fat to be comfortable on the subway. Hell, I’m too fat to eat at McDonald’s. How fucking fat can you be that you’re too fat for a place who’s soul business is MAKING PEOPLE FAT?!
I recently read that there is a doctor who does Weight Lost Surgery in London who is losing his practise. I’d never considered the surgery, but I found out he’s the only one who performs it on people over 400 pounds. HOW THE HELL CAN I WEIGH TOO MUCH TO HAVE WEIGHT LOSS SURGERY!?!?!?!?!??!
As you might have guessed, I gained weight over the last week. Just a pound, but still it’s my first gain in over a month.
Ian’s busy crowing how great he feels at 403 pounds, and I’m stuck here at 443. He’s a huge fucking whale, and I’m bigger.
I hate this feeling. I hate being down on myself. I can accept internal criticism when it comes to my art. That’s what strives to make me a better artist. Someday I will finish something I can truly marvel at, and then I will be ready for the world to judge my art. But when I feel bad about how I look, that just bugs me.
I got fat on purpose, so I have no right to be angry. I’m trying to lose weight, I’m several pounds away from my all time high. I’ve been good. I should be happy that I’ve found what I want to do (lose weight, duh).
But I want to stop being this big. I want to stop being hungry, I want to stop craving food, eating it without noticing. I want to stop being stared at all the time. I want to buy nice clothes. I want sit on the floor, and be able to get up! (I didn’t realise I couldn’t until this weekend! I was painting Amanda’s mural and got stuck on the floor!)
I will miss being fat too. I’ll look back, when I’m 110 lbs again, and wish I had the big boobs, the ability to command attention by entering the room, be able to eat any and every thing. I’ll miss being bigger than Ian, being twice as big as Jeri. I loved that feeling, when I first got, of being twice Jeri’s size! That was my goal. That’s also when things started getting out of hand.
I think that was my goal, to experience being twice her size, like she’d experienced being twice my size. Of course, that’s long past. She’s down to 175 pounds. Yikes… I’m 2 and a half times her size now! I totally felt it on the weekend too. She’s lifting heavy boxes, doing moving. What was I doing? I was keeping Amanda out of the way. I was a useless lump. I’m too fat to help people do stuff.
// posted by Charlotte @ 1:49:00 PM 
