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hello i am fat

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revising upward

When I was way less heavy than I am now (coming out of my funk: 15 pounds up from the last time I weighed myself, several months before pre-funk, I think? I hope? Where the fuck does it all come from? Free-floating fat needs to get off my ass, and now), I used to think that weighing 120 pounds would be the best weight ever in the history of the world.

I would be hot. Sizzlingly so. You could bake things on me, but not too many things, because my surface area would be so magnificently reduced, you'd be lucky to fit a single sausage link on my finely-toned ass.

This was back when I was under two hundred pounds, and did not have that far to go, to get to 120. Well, it was pretty far, but not that far in the grand scheme of things, I say wearing the 20-20 hindsight glasses that are colored dark with despair. Big, fat despair.

Then, I gained some weight. A lot of weight. I shot up over two hundred pounds. People would look at me, and tell me that there was no way I weighed that much. I carried it so well! I carried it beautifully. I carried it the way some women can carry a giant basket of water on their tiny little heads without spilling a single drop.

And you know, thinking about it, that right there must be where my mild and not at all clinical body dysmorphism comes from – for so much of my life, I have been convinced that while I was fat, nobody could tell, and that is why it was always such a shock and a misery, anytime someone would make a comment about my size. I would actually feel my heart drop, not just from shame (because there is a lot of shame in it) but from horror that I had been recognized, and found out.

Anyway. So over two hundred pounds, I started to think that 140 was a reasonable weight to get down to, even 160. I carry my weight so well that I'd be a glowing goddess. 120 is entirely too skinny. If I weighed 120, I would be a skeleton. I have birthing hips! You need some meat on these kinds of hips!

And then I gained more weight. I did not shoot, or rocket, it just sort of crept out from around corners and leapt onto my ass and hung on with the kind of tenaciousness only fat, or bulldogs, or fat bulldogs can show. And then I started to think that under 200 pounds would be fine. Just under 200. That would be all I would ask for in life. A one in front of the number I weigh. Sarah calls that "onederland," which is both hilarious (because it is so silly) and true (which makes it doubly hilarious).

Now here I am, the heavier than the heaviest ever (I think I prefer "heavy" to "fat." Heavy makes me sound like I am substantial and important. Fat makes me sound – well, you know. Fat. "But wait a second!" you say, and then I punch you. But not really, because I love you.), and getting on the scale this morning, after a week of back on weightwatchers, complete with an extra point because of my extra ass, I realized that all I want is to be back under my previous record for land mass. I want to be the previous heaviest ever again, because this weight I am now, it is unsupportable. It is insupportable. It sucks.

But I lost four pounds this week, and I am just going to keep my head down and try to keep the numbers getting smaller and maybe, soon, in a couple of months, I can start looking at far-flung goals again, and as they go down, I can revise downward, too.

  1. Blogger not specified | 7:38 PM |  

    This is seriously one of those situations where you will turn into a pillar of salt if you look back, and congratulations on your four pound loss in the present.

  2. Blogger K | 6:18 AM |  

    "for so much of my life, I have been convinced that while I was fat, nobody could tell, and that is why it was always such a shock and a misery, anytime someone would make a comment about my size."

    Do you know, I really thought I was the only one who had this problem? The continuing conviction that I looked OK dressed up, that people didn't look at me and think "fat girl"? And mostly, I think, they didn't.

    The problem being, of course, that this allowed me to ignore the fact that I didn't look OK underneath, and that the fear of drawing attention to my body was stopping me from doing things that would have improved it.

    It is quite a relief to find I'm not the only person who plays these mind games.

    And yes, revising the ideal size upwards - done that too. (I do it with dress sizes, though, and it went from "I wish I was a size 12" to "Please, please don't let me be a size 18").

    Good luck with the WW thing. I have never succeeded in losing four pounds in one week (or even two weeks) and am just slightly, and irrationally, jealous.

  3. Anonymous Anonymous | 8:04 AM |  

    I too "carry it well" but not well enough in my mind. Would it be horrible for me to ask your height/weight? I'm 5'7 and weigh 235 - but you would never guess that by looking at me - of course that's not important - what's important to me is that I KNOW how much I weigh and it disgusts me most of the time. Yet, I have weighed this for a long time so it must not disgust me enough I suppose. Anyways, I love your blog and yes you read my mind sometimes.

  4. Anonymous Anonymous | 10:05 AM |  

    The only way I really could tell how heavy I was is when I got caught in a picture (very rare). It was such a rude awakening because I never looked in full length mirrors and convinced myself I wasn't so heavy.

    I have a million milestones of "previous heaviests".

    congrats on the weightloss.

  5. Anonymous Anonymous | 6:55 PM |  

    "I think I prefer "heavy" to "fat." Heavy makes me sound like I am substantial and important. Fat makes me sound – well, you know. Fat. "But wait a second!" you say, and then I punch you. But not really, because I love you."

    Seriously, thats the funniest shit I read all week. Damn, I love this site.

  6. Anonymous Anonymous | 5:00 PM |  

    Well, to say the least, I am glad that you have begun writing again. I was beginning to worry that you fell off the wagon and you were never gonna get back on it. I have fallen off so many times, started over so many Mondays, so many New Years Eve's. Anyone who thinks that losing weight is any less harder than beating a heroine addiction is crazy. Losing weight is the hardest thing I have done in my entire life. I have only lost 16lbs. to date, and I still have 80 more to go. Hang in there girl...you can do this. Go get Dr. Phil's weight loss book and read it every day. Reading that book every day was really the only thing that has kept me from stuffing my face.

  7. Blogger K. | 10:25 AM |  

    I enjoy reading your blog. And I can relate to this post. I used to weigh 198 at 5'6" and people were always surprised by the actual number. In a weird kind of way it made me feel comfortable about the number being what it was.

    And in the back of my mind I always wondered about a "compliment" that involved the words you don't look like and that much in the same sentence.

  8. Anonymous Anonymous | 9:09 AM |  

    I know what you mean thinking "life is elsewhere." I'm at a weight that is envious, and of course I look at Paris Hilton and think, "she's truly happy." If I could get to 125, I'd be happy: but that' s not true. I'm a weight where I should be running around in sexy lingere and I'm just as miserable as anyone else. I have an overweight friend who is living the life I want.

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