I am obese. OBESE. Disgustingly obese. I need to loose 100 pounds. I am suffering on a daily basis, I can’t walk, I hate getting dressed, my legs are fat and swollen, I can’t take a deep breath, and I can’t stop eating. Oh I have some self control but then an excuse pops up or I’m exhausted and had a bad day at work. The kids are driving me insane, eating is the only thing my husband and I agree on. Eating crappy food killed my father in law in February. I have this overwhelming need to get rid of everything. The weight, the clutter, the overwhelming sense of responsibility by having and being too much.
I have to start working on me for all the rest to fall into place. I need to purge my belongings as I prepare to purge the weight. It is all tied together. I have no worth as an obsese person. I am repulsive. I want to love myself. I want to have confidence again. I want to feel like I don’t need to hide myself. I want to be able to wear whatever I want to wear. I don’t want to freak out because my sweaters that cover my arms when I wear a tank top are dirty. I don’t want to spend more time cleaning up junk around the house, putting away clothes that are gigantic. I want to feel love for myself so that I can be more active and less bitchy.
It is hard for me to get in and out of the shower because my legs are so fat and swollen. I can barely shave my legs, I have to move my stomach out of the way when I shower. I want to look in the mirror and love what I see. I want one chin, not 3, I want arms that are not flabby. I want floors that do not have clothes and junk all over them because I’m too tired and too out of breathe and shape to bend over and pick them up.
I want to be able to swim in my pool without huffing and puffing and feeling as if I’m going to fall climbing up the ladder. I want to be able to move around without feeling like I giant worthless embarassing fat mess. I want to be a good role model for my 3 gorgeous girls. I want to share clothes with them, I do not want them to watch me and participate in the battle of food. The food that is going to kill me.
I went to the Doctor in April and was hoping, actually hoping to hear bad news. Did you ever hear of something so awful and disgusting? I wanted to be told that I had high cholesterol, high blood pressure and that I was pre-diabetic. I wanted to hear bad news so that I would be so scared I would stop medicating myself with food. Well guess what? I received good news. My blood work came back perfect. Perfect. I was disappointed because if it’s perfect do I need to change it?
My ass is huge and not in a good way, my legs are disgusting. The time has to come to change, to take control of my life and re-priortize what is really important. Why is the container of ice cream so good and then I spend the rest of the night twisting and turning because I am so full I can’t sleep?
I wound up over eating for dinner tonight and I feel gross, and I know that I will eat the ice cream that is downstairs waiting for me, even though I wrote this blog post. I will eat it because somehow I am still not ready. The food has such power. I need to find my strength. This is the first step. Tomorrow I am going to see a nutritionist. Today I got on the scale for the first time in months. 227.8 pounds. 227.8 pounds. I am only 5’2″. I should weigh between 125-137 pounds. OBESE. I took pictures of myself this morning. I need to find inspiration. I need to find motivation. I currently do not find other peoples weight loss success stories motivating, I find them discouraging. Insane right? I hate to exercise. I hate to sweat unless it’s lying or sitting in the sun while reading a book and even then I need to cool off.
I need to find the courage and willpower sooner rather than later, or the doctor is going to give me devasting news and truth be told, who really wants to hear news that devastating?
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