MsCezanne's Odyssey

I'd be happy to answer! Gives me something to write about!

First off, 'failure' isn't what I'd feel if I don't reach 500 pounds. At least, it's not what I fear feeling. I fear feeling regret, that I had one chance to experience it, and I didn't take that chance. Failure, to me, is when you try and don't succeed. If I stop now, it's not failure, it's simply not trying. I can accept failure. I can even accept not trying. There are great many things I haven't tried. This is something I'm trying to do. If I do fail, I'm okay with that. I'm not sure how that will be possible, though I suppose if I haven't hit 500 by the end of the summer I might be willing to chalk up a failure, and probably won't regret it nearly as much. You're certainly right, for purposes of sensation and statistics, I am 500 pounds, and it's entirely possible I actually AM 500 pounds, just using the wrong scale.

As for attaining 500 pounds, of course I could 'cheat' and make it so that when I step on the scale it reads 500 pounds. But that's not the point, is it? Without getting too political... the War in Iraq is a prime example. Is the goal to defeat Saddam Hussein, or to create a stable nation? It was certainly possible to do the former without the latter, but not the latter without the former. I don't want to weigh 500 pounds, I want to BE 500 pounds. It's not the same thing. Not to me. 500 represents a conscious enjoyment of a LOT of food, really pushing to see what I can do, what I can tolerate, how I can live. If I just want to see a couple of pretty lights, there are far simpler ways to accomplish that. I want to experience what being 500 pounds means, and it's more than a number on the scale.

As for work, it's a sedentary desk job. I talk to people on the phone, read reports, occasionally file paper work (I usually get others to do this legwork for me, so I guess that's an accommodation) and track things on the computer. I don't have a fancy rolling ergonomic chair like my co-workers, rather I have a solidly constructed armless chair which holds me quite securely. All meeting rooms have at least one chair without armrests that I get dibs on (everyone hates the chairs without arms anyway). People avoid squeezing into the elevator with me, though I'll happily squeeze in where I'm pretty sure I'll fit, though I'll let people go ahead of me if the car has room for a couple skinnies. I'm on the fifth floor, so not many people take the stairs anyway.

I dress 'respectably' at work. I don't dress as provocatively as when I was thinner, but that has to do with maturity and clothing selection as much as anything else. I'll wear a tank top and shorts when I go to the park, and if my belly pokes out, I don't mind. I am aware that I'm not everyone's cup of tea, I won't impose myself on people, but I'm not ashamed either. I do value aesthetics, and understand that there is a great majority of people who just don't want to see my flesh.

Sherry and I don't really spend a lot of time together since going back to work. Mostly on the weekend or a rare evening. She really understands what I'm doing. She probably thinks I'm nuts, but is willing to over look it because we really have enough in common that it's not an issue. She IS looking forward to working out with me though. Last weekend at the park she did join me for a picnic. She kept the kids corralled while I ate, she actually fed me strawberries, it was a lot of fun for both of us.

I've covered the 'how it feels' before, so bear with me if this seems repetitive. The key word is 'big'. I really do feel big, which makes sense, of course, but is also true. I feel that my body really extends, I have a lot in front, a lot behind, and a lot around me. When I 'bend', I feel my fat sliding along my fat. I bend slowly, it's important to keep my balance, to make sure I don't over extend myself, and don't let momentum make me a passenger in my own body. My fat isn't really very 'foldy'. I've got folds along my back that continue the lines of my breasts. My belly hangs over my thighs, and all my joints bulge and crease when I move. And when I move, everything jiggles. I love how that feels, there's a lot of great parts of being fat, but being able to feel your whole body moving like that is something special.

600 pounds would be a stretch of the imagination. I don't know that I could realistically eat more than I do now, not without making other sacrifices in my life. I suppose if I gave up working that would free up plenty of snack time, and while the idea does pique my interest, I don't know how long I could sustain a one dimensional life like that. I suppose other changes in my life would add dimensions I would enjoy, but I don't see it as all that likely to happen. If I WAS 600 pounds though, I'm sure I'd feel much 'bigger'. Mobility would be difficult, but not impossible, I guess it depends on the efforts I make to keep my mobility up. I still get around when I need to, but if I spent a week on the couch, even at 497 pounds, getting up would be a challenge for sure.

As for how big 500 pounds is: 5 feet wide when I sit sounds about right When I sit, I don't have a lap, my belly goes between my legs, forcing them apart, and then covers them to the knees. My legs are bigger around then the waist of a grown man (as long as that grown man isn't Ian...) My arms are bigger than most people's legs. To see my toes I sort of put my feet to the side, lean on something and squish my tummy out of the way. I sit down when I'm putting on shoes, so rarely do I need to see my toes.

I've had a rebellious streak forever. I was born with it, I'll die with it. My parents have often disagreed with the choices in my life, and while this may be the biggest, so to speak, they've long since learned that they're not about to talk me out of anything. As a teenager I was underweight, they tried to get me to eat more. They were so happy when I finally did, though they had no idea what it would lead to! I don't tell them what I'm up to, but I don't avoid their questions either. They've got a pretty good idea of what I'm doing, and why I'm doing it (or at least the reason I believe I'm doing it... I'm not a psychologist, lol). They've tried to talk me out of it, but they aren't too surprised it didn't work. They do know I'm planning to lose weight in the near future, and they are quite happy about that.

The public attention is a double edged sword. I've always been one to seek attention. When I was thin I dressed provocatively, when I developed curves, I managed to wear less. As I moved up to fat and obese I've never been ashamed of my appearance. As I stated earlier, I AM aware that I am a minority view of beauty, and respect that. People do stare, and for a long time, I loved it. It was attention, and it's all good, even when it's bad. What does bother me though, it's not possible to hide. Wherever I go, I'm the biggest one, you can't miss me, I always get looks. I can't dress down, I can't sit in the corner, I can't blend in, no matter how much I want to. It does take its toll sometimes, but for the most part, I do enjoy it. When I get some git giving me trouble, I'll engage them. People who want to bully me aren't looking for a fight and they'll back down, and I'll get approving looks from anyone else. It doesn't happen that much, and I do enjoy taking the time to put someone in their place.

// posted by Charlotte @ 3:52:00 PM