Fatty McFatty

SATURDAY:
As I was looking through some pictures taken today, I discovered my self in one.  I've already mentioned that I absolutely hate to have my picture taken, for any reason.  To see myself in the background of one makes me wish I could photoshop myself out of someone else's picture.  It is just absolute disgust in myself.

Any time cameras are out, I disappear.  I hide behind anything I can find.  There are rare times when I can't hide fast enough.  Today was one of those days.  Of course, it doesn't take a picture to feel disgusted with myself.  I eat, sleep and breathe disgust for myself.  Let me go ahead and say that I am NOT looking for a pity party.  I don't want your comments telling me that it's what's on the inside that counts and I'm a beautiful person.  No offense.  That's all well and good but you don't know how untrue that really is.  I am a lazy, unmotivated, very large shell of a person that used to be so full of life, it was overwhelming.  We have our own battles we must fight.  This.....is mine and I'm losing more each day.

I look around me and constantly see obesity.  You would think that it would make me feel better, like I wasn't in this alone.  It doesn't.  I am in this alone.  No one else can take care of this problem for me.  No one can make me do anything.  I have to make my mind up myself to work harder, eat better and get out of this pit I am in.

I have an addiction to food.  My portion sizes are out of control.  It's a ridiculous cycle that I just can't break free from.  I hide away to eat something because I want it so badly and then feel like absolute crap afterwards.  I. Love. Food.  I love it to an unhealthy extent.  If something tastes good, I want to eat all of it.  If there is some left on the kids plate, I want it too.  What I don't understand is WHEN this happened to me and WHY?  I can't pinpoint a single thing that made me like this.  My brother, mother and sister are all thin.  Essentially, I was too until 1999.  I can't blame it on the depression of brain surgery although that was the time period.  I was still thin when I got out of the hospital and started packing it on right after.  I'm not trying to use it as a crutch.  I am fully aware of my weight.  I also am fully aware of the threat of diabetes and heart issues because of it.  Does that change anything?  Nope.  Doesn't seem to.  WHY?!?!?!


My sweet husband has done absolutely everything he knows to do to help me out.  He's paid for programs, pills, surgery (a BOTCHED tummy tuck), gym memberships, personal trainers and apps. There's nothing else he could possibly do.  He has just paid for an entire year to a gym that I haven't been to in over a month.  I'm stuck and can't get out of the contract unless someone buys it from me and I transfer it to their name.  Like THAT'S gonna happen.  The people at the gym are really sweet and helpful but it is a Crossfit oriented gym and I have zero interest in Crossfit.  I should have done more research before  committing.

I wrote the above part a couple of days before this.  Tonight, I was supposed to be at our school's PTO meeting.  I'm on the board so it is at least a little important that I go.  Josh has been painting our bedroom all day and has just finished.  As I was kissing him bye to go to the PTO meeting, my leg brushed up against something.  I was too big to maneuver well.  I ended up hitting the roller full of paint which went all over my leg and my pants.  "Why didnt you just change?" you say?  Well, my closet doesn't allow for mistakes like this.  I had nothing else to wear, that fit.  That went over real well with my self-confidence.  So, like an idiot, I sit here crying about how big of a disappoint I am to myself about this weight thing.  I would love to scream at the top of my lungs but I would scare too many people.  So, I sit here silently screaming inside.  Something had GOT to give or I'm going to die too young from this weight.