The Fat Girl

I just got home from the gym.

I was there since about 5 PM it's 8:30 PM now.

I'm having a hard time.

It all started this evening when I walked into the gym and saw myself in a full-length mirror. I avoid these since they make me cry. I do not want to see what I look like now that I'm at my highest weight ever.

But I saw my thighs jiggle with each step. And I thought to myself "seriously? It's that bad?"

Once in the locker room I pass the scale then go back to it.
I must know.

Has all this bingeing and purging lately really pushed me even higher?

I step on and the bright blue numbers climb, past my lowest weight of 120 and reaches up to 153 lbs. More than the last time I had a break down.

I do not give into the lump in my throat. I cannot work out if I am crying.

I go to the more scientific scale and it confirms it. 153 lbs. I go up the stairs feeling everything shake with each step.

I start my workout. I don't know when it's going to stop but this is the only thing I can do to keep from having a gigantic embarrassing meltdown at the gym.

I push myself harder and longer. And I even get the courage to do weights. I never do these because I'm afraid someone will tell me I'm doing them wrong or laugh at the fat girl trying to get fit. "She'd be pretty if only she toned up." "I'm so glad I didn't let myself go like she did." I imagine the people saying to me.

I keep my head down out of shame. I do not want to be looked at but nothing will stop me from burning more calories.

I start to do what I think is an innovative move when I feel the eyes of someone watching me. I stop and look at him—read to rip is head off. When I see it's this slightly creepy older trainer.

He asks me what I'm doing. I told him I saw it in a movie where this skinny white chick kicked this big black girl's ass (Does anyone know what movie I'm talking about?! I think Queen Latifah is in it). He looks at me like I'm weird and tells me how to do it better. Then asks what do I want to do?

I said well obviously I need to lose weight and get rid of these (as I grab my thighs). He just smiles and doesn't tell me no. In that small moment he just confirmed my fears—that I really am fat and that I am losing control and it's finally happening. People said "you'll never get fat" and bam there you go.

He had me do other exercises that I couldn't do without falling over not offering any encouragement making me feel worse and worse about myself with each one. I even tell him I have an eating disorder and he isn't fazed nor does he say anything condoning like people usually do.

We go on until I give in to do a session with him even though that's the last thing on earth I want to do.

I update my status in a sad desperate cry for help. I need compliments. I need reassurance. And I also want to publicly humiliate myself for actually being fat now. I want to try to punish myself, embarrass myself into losing weight. By telling you all I am fat hopefully that'll bully me into not bingeing anymore.

People responded with two very good reasons as to why he targeted me:

1.       He wants my money

2.       He wants my fat ass

He did stay he's newly divorced but this dude was such a square there's no way he was hitting on me.

But the damage is done and I'm reminded of when people did talk to me in the gym.

When I was thin they would ask me what I ate, what my workouts were like, more than once I was asked to model, fitness model as well as do fitness competitions.

Now…no one says anything to me. Not just at the gym but in every day. No one asks me what diet I'm on. No one says "you're so skinny you bitch!" No one says they wish look like me.

It's very nice when people compliment me on good old Facebook but I can't help but think it's out of pity. Also, no one really sees me anymore so no, they don't know what I really look like now and that yes I'm heavy.

I'm just so confused. I want to believe them that I'm not fat. That I'm gorgeous. That I'm still desirable. But I can't see it.

It's really sad and disgusting that this is what matters most to me. On my way home I had to walk my bike up Pike and I passed girls that were prettier than me and women that were straight up homeless and fuckin ugly, women that were severely overweight but who do I care about? The girls whose thighs don't touch the ones who are thin, the ones that wear the pants I wish I could if I could fit into them.

I know I could have cancer, I could be homeless, I could have a family tragedy but this is sadly what matters most to me and that makes me feel even worse about myself.

I wish I could stop hating myself. I wish I could either get skinny or get the fuck over it. I want a life. I want to not live by these rules and regulations and to constantly every second have to fight.

But here I am at 9 PM and I can't bring myself to eat dinner and am wishing I could have toughed it out at the gym longer. Here I am catering to the very thing that's killing me.

Thanks for reading as always, it really means so much to me.

The World Ended Last Night

I thought my world ended last night.
I thought I couldn't bear to go on another second in this body, in this way.

But I woke up this morning dehydrated, swollen and exhausted.

Looks like my world didn't end.

Last night I had my monthly breakdown.
But this one scared me more than the others.
I didn't think it was possible to hate myself more than I did the day before but that's what happened.

I was having a wonderful week. The promises of AA and early sobriety started to come true. I was feeling free and happy. I was also following my meal plan. Having a treat if I wanted to / when I wanted to. I wasn't drinking. I wasn't forcing myself to workout. It felt like I was starting to have a life.

Then 'reality' hit me and hit me hard.

I just casually went to try on pants and after 15 pairs not a one fit. A couple were too big but mostly they were too small, one size large wouldn't even go over my calf for goodness sakes. With every pair I would get this false hope that maybe this size 11 / 13 would prove Ed wrong. Maybe this one will fit and make me feel better. It didn't happen.

My mind began to race. Fuck. What the fuck have I been doing eating what I want? Not restricting? Not working out? I had to see the ultimate determinate. My weight.

I went to my gym and weighed myself and I saw the blue florescent light scream 152 lbs at me.

This is the most I've weighed in my entire life.

I lost it.

I walked home crying and as soon as I hit the door I sobbed, heaved, snotted, screamed at nothing. I couldn't stop scraping at my legs and arms and stomach saying "get off of me, get off of me."

Everything I've been told has been a lie. Treatment AA my friends etc. I was consistently gaining weight and I'd much rather have a size 6 slip off of me than a 13 stay at my calves. How could I have believed them? What the fuck have I done to myself? I can't go anywhere. I can't get rid of this fat immediately. What the fuck am I going to do?

I was scared I would actually hurt myself so I got my sponsor to come over.
She told me to pray but I couldn't move onto my knees because I couldn't stand my thighs touching one another.

She eventually got me calm down. I know that not eating won't REALLY help but I don't know what will. That is a hopeless and scary feeling.

After about an hour of me freaking out into exhaustion, she left and I felt hopeful, calm.
I talked to ChaCha and told him I was fine-which I thought I was.

I went to get Powerade and then the next thing I know I'm eating anything and everything in my house and what I bought at the store.
And you know the rest.

I look at the clock as I clean up. It's 12:30 AM.

I am going to be late for work tomorrow. I'm going to feel like shit. Fuck I did it again. Fuck me. Seriously fuck me. I'm so fucking done. I complain about how I don't want to gain anymore weight and what do I do? I eat.

I'm so so so so sick of this cycle. And you've heard me say that and I'm sick of saying it. But since it's a cycle I have to break it. I have to do something different. However, doing something different is easier than said (obvi or else I would have done it now).

I've tried changing my diet, writing signs on my cabinets, drinking, not drinking, working out everyday, not working out everyday, putting a bathing suit in my kitchen, treatment centers, checking in after every meal...etc you name it. I've tried it.

But everything I've tried have all been tangible things. Human things. The one I haven't really tried is something that I can't see - a power greater than myself.

I've tried going to church and believing what I heard but that didn't work.

In AA I'm learning that I can make my own conception of a God. I need to give him my struggles and my urges because I know I'm powerless over them. And supposedly He isn't.

Phew that's a lot. Thanks for reading. Happy Hump Day!

WAH It's Not Fair.

So I'm about to eat this de-lic-ious salad I made for myself for dinner that's totally on my meal plan and not skimping on anything when I get this sudden urge to check my email and see if I got an answer from this place I interviewed at.

It's the first and only place I've interviewed at since starting a small half-assed job hunt but it was AWESOME. Totally lax all about work hard play hard but go home at quitting time. And it was TWO blocks from my house.

I asked my lead to be a reference for it and she said she would which was awesome.

Next thing I know I'm asked to interview and I tell my lead I'm going to go in for one. That's when she tells me they've been talking to her about a job there too.

"Oh."

My head went a million places and my heart dropped. Well she works super hard and deserves another job so let me swallow my jealously and wish her the best-which I did.

Then two days later I'm off to my interview and she tells me she's already interviewed and gotten the job.

Fuck.

Seriously?

Jealousy rears its head. I start to shake. My heart drops again and my head races.

Wait. If she got one doesn't that mean I have an in then?

I went off to the interview feeling good. I thought I killed it and came back feeling great. Work was easier to go to thinking it wouldn't be that much longer.

But then the week went on and I didn't hear from anyone. And while I'm planning my lead's going away party and buying her goodies in the back of my head I am so spiteful.

I don't want to be. But I am human. And well no I'm not just spiteful. I'm pissed.

I found that company. I got her that in and does she thank me? No. Does she tell me she went for an interview? No.

Fuck that.

Now I just read the dreaded email saying I didn't have enough experience and I'm no longer being considered. My heart hurts. I feel sick to my stomach. And I want to take it out on my lead.

Which makes NO sense at all.

She deserves the job she got, she's a great lead and what was she supposed to do say no?

But I have this anger and I don't know where to place it. I'm frustrated that I can't get another job because I've only had one real big girl job but I'm not happy where I am.

It's like saying to your kid in order to get a car you've got to get a job, but in order to get to said job you've got to have a car.

Fuck man.

People at work drop like flies. I just planned a going away bash for 4 people. And I can't get a job?

RAWR.

I hear people tell me that they love their jobs. It just kind of fell into their laps. They went to school for this and are now doing this...blah blah good for fucking you.

Yikes. Ok this is not good. But what to do what to do...

Positivity.

I have a job.
I can always go in my job (not like new positions but strengthen my writing).
Where I work always listens to new ideas...so it's time to get innovative.
God has his plan and if this wasn't it that just means there's something greater out there for me.

Ok now I don't feel sick anymore. Dinner time.