I thought I would drop you a line before I head to the gym for my Pilates Reformer class, with my beloved trainer Nazi, Donna.
Why am I angry? Aren’t fat people supposed to be jolly? (I am jolly about many things–actually I laugh at almost everything–but NOT this.) Well, pull up a chair and sit a spell while I share with you my anger. Why do I veritably ooze with anger? Why do I want to blab and expose myself so completely before whom ever might choose to read my thoughts and feelings? Am I an attention junky? Do I want fame? (fat chance–ha–pun intended). I just reexamined myself, and no, those are not the reasons I am doing this.
The Truth is … I am at the end of my rope, the waters of my internal encouragement have run dry, dust has begun to choke off my wind, and night has fallen on my hopes with a vengeance. I cannot count on my fingers or my toes, for that matter, the number of times I have gained and lost the same thirty pounds. Thirty pounds wouldn’t be so huge, except that I weigh 250 pounds. I am writing this to hold myself accountable to myself. I must not give up. I must jumpstart my failing internal Pollyanna drive to believe I can do all things–I must use any means possible.
So … with the last dregs of my strength, I claw at the walls of the well of obesity that I have fallen into, with dying determination to defeat this foe that seeks to take my life from me against my will. To say that I am angry is probably an understatement. I am so mad that I am in this place yet again, that I could chew steel and spit nails. I want to scream a guttural animal cry–except there’s this little thing–I don’t want to get taken away by the men in the white suits–yes, it would be THAT loud.
I realize you do not know me. You have no idea the battle I have waged against this foe, we call obesity. There is no way for you to know how hard I have worked to bring my body into submission, yet to be betrayed by a body that will not respond. I can tell you the number of hours that I workout, and you would probably not believe me. I could show you the log of the food that I take in, and you would probably believe that I lied. I can’t say that I would blame you either. I am not sure if I was in your shoes that I would believe me, yet every word that I am going to write is true, not embellished, or exaggerated.
Why would I be so honest? Many people don’t tell the truth to the people who know and love them; why would I speak the truth to complete strangers? I want answers! Plain and simple — I Want answers. Maybe, by logging my struggles, I will discover what has kept me back from success. There’s another thing: Obesity hurts. I wasn’t always large, and the difference between the way people responded to me then and now is HUGE. I am sure that I am not alone in this experinece. There must be others like me out in the great wide world that have the same struggles, and there is a part of me that hopes to both find fellow sufferers, and let those “others” know they are not alone. For us each to gain hope in numbers, and for us each to KNOW that we are not the ONLY person out here who fights the battle of obesity and loses no matter how well we follow the rules.
(Insert your favorite profanity) If I am going to have to be FAT — I would at least would like to ENJOY EATING! Dang-it-all! If you are going to weigh 250 lbs., you should get to eat at least SOME of the things you like and NOT just get to eat yucky un-fun diet foods, and workout untold hours to JUST TO MAINTAIN the fabulous figure you get with a 250 pound body — I am just sayin’. I don’t abuse myself just so I can have this LARGE body. Having said that, we find ourselves back where I started this chronicle of my latest attempt to defeat my fat foe, I have to fight this battle no matter the challenge. Even if this means I must eat yucky food, workout long hours, or what ever the Docs cook up for me to try. …So…here we go…
Blessings to all…S