If I wasn’t so adamant about this being an anonymous blog, that could really belong to anyone, visual aids would make this post so much more effective.
Today as a family we attended a 16th birthday party. I’ll be honest, I had had a HORRIBLE morning and I didn’t want to go, but the mother is one of my closest and dearest friends, and though she assured me otherwise I felt not going would be letting her and the birthday child down.
The first meltdown happened when I tried to put on the one pair of jeans that I have that “fit” and I use the word fit loosely though maybe tightly is a better analogy. I had to fight to get them over my thighs and rump, and then had to lay on the bed in order to button and then zip them. When I stood up what I saw was a horrific sight, it was like stuffing bread dough in a container much too small and it had all come up past the top and was over flowing- in other words I had more than a ‘muffin top”. It probably was the world’s largest muffin top. I put on a shirt, and being that the 2x shirts are already too small the muffin top made it worse. Way worse. Way way worse. I tried the loosest shirt I had with a long sweater over it, and that had to do, because my only other choice was yoga pants, and the audience at this party would not be the type accepting of this clothing choice. I will be honest that hit me hard, but not as hard as what would hit me later.
The 2nd meltdown happened immediately after when I started thinking about the plans that got changed, and how my Thanksgiving was ruined, my Christmas was ruined, how every birthday has been ruined and I just lost it. I cried and cried like I would never stop crying. It started a new cycle of obsession – next year I will be 40, for at least the past 10 years something has happened to ruin my birthday. If something bad happens on every birthday and my 35th little one lost her guinea pig, then 40 years old can only bring something truly horrible. What if something really really horrible happens. And I can’t get out of this thought process. And if I am completely honest I am not sure I want to see my 40th birthday come.
So back to the party, I went, not really wanting to, but feeling obligation. Feeling that this friend has supported me in many many ways, and I needed to support her. It was loud, it was crowded, it was a hoard of children, and many adults. Many I knew and many I didn’t know. Some of them were friends. So I spent some time playing board games with little one, and then I decided to walk a couple buildings down to the pharmacy to pick up hubby’s meds because I needed space. I needed to be alone. I didn’t realize how out of shape I have gotten, I could feel for the men and women on my 600lb life, saying their legs hurt and their feet hurt. I don’t know how I have fallen so far so fast. But I have. So the party ends with me eating a whoopie pie, a cup cake and a small scoop of ice cream. We dropped the children at their respective sleepovers and each got a Frappe from McDonald’s (yeah that’ll help).
We got home, and I laid down on the couch and played on my phone and felt sorry for myself. While playing on my phone I scrolled through my facebook feed and there were pictures from the party already posted, I prayed they didn’t get any of me…. and unfortunately there was a picture of me. I guess I hadn’t seen myself in a picture in a while because my jaw dropped to the floor. I don’t think I will be letting myself get a picture taken for a long time. I didn’t realize how big my chin had gotten, how frizzy my hair is, how much of a scowl I carry on my face, and just how fat I had gotten. I looked at the picture, and I just couldn’t even believe I had gotten here again. I do this over and over. I lose weight, I gain weight, I lose weight, I gain weight. And now I just did it to myself again. I don’t know how far I am going to take this – will I hit 250 this time? 300? 350? I know there are worse things than being overweight, but it’s just something else that makes me hate me. It’s so weird, overweight on other people I don’t even notice it half the time, and for the people I love it doesn’t even matter. But on myself disgusts me. It makes me want to just take a knife and cut my rolls off… yah yah I know you have to cauterize and tie off blood vessels blah blah blah.
My friend tells me to worry about the big rocks first (meaning don’t worry about my eating and weight gain first). But a lot of days I can’t help it because I have to live in this body, I have to feel how winded I get doing things- going up stairs, walking short distances. I have to feel the aches and pains of a sore back etc. And I can’t help but worry about this rock. This rock makes me hate myself even more. I try not to look in mirrors, I brush my teeth with my eyes closed, I don’t want to see the truth. Now, yes there are “excuses” for my weight gain- my hip problem that will hopefully get taken care of, my carpal tunnel that will also hopefully get taken care of, my depression, but there’s also a part of it that’s my fault. Poor choices, overeating, binging, not eating when I should.
My husband sweet as he is, says I am seeing things that aren’t there, but I can’t help but think he looks at me through love colored glasses. He loves me no matter what, but I know the truth he’s not as physically attracted to me, as he was when I had defined leg muscles, when you could see my back and shoulder muscles. And that breaks my heart, but at the same time I can’t blame him. Who would want to run their hands over lumps and bumps, over cellulite and fat?
I am just tired of all of the things that are killing me – emotionally, physically, and psychologically. I don’t want to be depressed, anxious, fat, unhappy. I don’t want any of this and I don’t know how to even begin to change. I feel lost, I feel exhausted, I feel “the itch” coming on.