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.