Hi, How Are You, Don’t Look At Me.
June 18th, 2008 by trancejen
I am going to a wedding on Saturday.
It is rare that I attend any social function these days, not because I am worried about falling down due to Heartfuck or because I am rife with headaches due to Fuckbrain, but because I am suffering from a far more insidious problem - I am fat.
Lord, am I fat. I spent the winter stuffing my cheeks as if I were storing food for an impending disaster and now I am suffering for it even though I am working out five days per week. I am over thirty, and I have discovered that my thirty-something metabolism has slowed to a snail’s pace. I am working my damnedest to jack that metabolism up into the stratosphere, but so far it does not seem to be cooperating.
Therefore I am chubby, and painfully so. To be seen in public is embarrassing. To be seen in an armless black dress is downright terrifying. Why did I buy a sleeveless dress? Because I am stupid. I bought big, pretty earrings! Maybe people will look at them instead of my big burgeoning arm flesh.
I am not the only fat person in the world. Surely I will not be the only fat person in attendance at the wedding. (I hope. Always, I look for people Fatter Than Me. In that manner I am an Asshole Supreme.) Still, I cannot shake my shame. It is deep-rooted and has grown in me ever since I was five and my father called me “Jenny Jelly Belly”.
My father makes fun of fat people with aplomb. In fact I don’t know who he loves more, fat people or Barack Obama for filling his life with sick mirth. Suddenly, though, he has stopped making these stupid jokes around me. I know that this is in deference to my girth and it shames me even further. He pays for me to go to hypnosis sessions and then cringes when I eat anything other than salads. It’s gotten to the point in which my stomach actually hurts when I see him. My mother tells me to eat small meals and then bakes cupcakes. My mother is a size four. She speaks about fat people in a low voice, as if they have cancer.
And isn’t it as bad as cancer? It’s treated with medicine, surgery, hell, why not go the extra mile and try chemotherapy? Sign me up! Isn’t it as bad as a felony murder? At times I feel equally guilty as if I’ve shanked someone in the neck - look what I’ve done to my fucking body! Isn’t it a mortal sin? Feel your extra flesh and repent, vile overeaters! REPENT!!
God.
Between the two of my parents and my own sick head, it’s a wonder I don’t have a fat-induced nervous breakdown. I can see the headlines now:
Fatty Loses It And Takes To The Roof With A .38.
Crazed Chubby Runs Screaming Down Michigan Avenue Nude
Zaftig Woman Storms Baskin Robbins, Eats Inventory
Lord only knows.
Today kickboxing was canceled and when I hung up the phone I flipped out. Canceled!! What the fuck?! I have only a few more days to LOSE WEIGHT, damn it to hell!
Then I worked out, furiously.
It is hard not to revert to sick behavior. My instinct tells me to scarf and barf. Deep down in my soul, I want to throw up every fucking time I eat. It’s gross, I know, but it’s there. I simply park myself on the couch and grit my teeth and tell myself I can’t do it.
I just wish that the urge would be gone.
I just wish that the weight would noticeably start to come off, so that I could be pleased with the results and therefore less discouraged.
I just wish that I had never done this to myself. Me. I did this. I did this to myself. Me.
It is impossible to live with the guilt when you are living inside of it every fucking minute of every day. What sucks is that this guilt breeds shame and this shame breeds I SUCK OH FUCK IT I’M GOING TO GO EAT A DONUT.
The cycle is very, very hard to break.
And that is all I have to say about that.
In other news, I, anti-foot-toucher-extraordinaire, went completely against my grain and got a pedicure.
You read right.
My girlfriend from kickboxing is a professional manicurist and has been harping on me about my nasty-ass barefoot-girl feet for some time, so I figured, what the hell? I’ll try anything once.
It actually wasn’t that bad. I was a little touchy and ticklish at first, but it actually felt nice. It was a little freaky when she took this razor blade thingy and started grating my feet as if they were blocks of cheese, but damn, my feet are smooth and silky now. I also have perfect red toenails with little black scroll designs on the big toes. Cute.
She did my fingernails, too, so now I will have many things to distract people from my weight. Heh.
God, I’m so stupid.
Happy Wednesday.
Queen of the Winter Carnival wrote on 06/18/08 at 11:21 am :
Have you ever tried Superfoods RX? It’s what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks, and I fucking LOVE IT. I’ve lost 9 pounds so far, my skin and hair look fantastic, and I feel great. I won’t bore you with my whole cult-member spiel (because I have become THAT obsessed), but I just thought I’d mention it because I love it, and I’m over 30 with my own sluggish metabolism, and it works for me, so I thought perhaps it might work for you.
Michelle wrote on 06/18/08 at 12:45 pm :
I feel ya - it’s the same reason I dread going to my family reunion this weekend. I just feel so ashamed of myself. Even though my family is great and all - I keep thinking they must think “wow she’s really handling her unemployment well - hasn’t cut into her food budget” Aargh. It’s neverending. And I had to buy shorts yesterdays. I chose capri pants instead and pretty earrings. I have to keep telling myself I am the only one who is concerned. My family will just be happy to get together.
clahna wrote on 06/18/08 at 3:47 pm :
Having been a self-proclaimed fat-chick for my entire adult life, I can empathize. It’s so hard to lose weight. It’s like anything, you just gotta keep on keepin’ on.
Trish wrote on 06/19/08 at 4:24 am :
Yeah, I know what you mean. At 12, my father said to me, “You are fat.” And that started a lifelong obsession. At least, I *think* that’s what started it.
yep. « fredlet wrote on 06/19/08 at 4:07 pm :
[…] My father makes fun of fat people with aplomb. In fact I don’t know who he loves more, fat people or Barack Obama for filling his life with sick mirth. Suddenly, though, he has stopped making these stupid jokes around me. I know that this is in deference to my girth and it shames me even further. He pays for me to go to hypnosis sessions and then cringes when I eat anything other than salads. It’s gotten to the point in which my stomach actually hurts when I see him. My mother tells me to eat small meals and then bakes cupcakes. My mother is a size four. She speaks about fat people in a low voice, as if they have cancer.” [TranceJen] […]
John in Phoenix wrote on 06/19/08 at 9:29 pm :
Hello my lovely Jen !
Fat. Can we tawk…? When I met my husband 6 years ago I had just lost 65 pounds over a 4 month period. I’m pretty sure I was going through a manic phase because I was so full of energy…Now - 95 additional pounds later my husband wants to know what happened to the slim good looking guy that he settled down with. Shit-city. I have re-discovered snack-pack tapioca pudding and whipped cream. Apple crisp and cherry pies ! I would eat these things in private and then rush to hide the evidence in the neighbors garbage can so I would not be caught by the husband…*sigh*
Honey - we are the kind of people that just plain love the taste of food - not the consequences of weight gain. What to do? Hell - at least you are working out. I just get fatter and slower.
I’ll go eat a fresh tomato with drizzeled olive oil and herbs and ponder it…and then when Danny is sleeping, I’ll binge on the god-damn apple pie that he just baked. GRRRRRR. I am going to blame the husband because it is so much easier…
Love you lady -
John in Phoenix
freejeremy wrote on 06/20/08 at 9:38 pm :
i like to fuck with my mani/pedicurist every time i get one. like screaming “OW!” at some point and then, “just kidding!” or asking her to save the shavings so i can melt them over tortilla chips later. we have fun; it breaks down the language-barrier.
Kungfukitten wrote on 06/22/08 at 12:12 am :
I so hear you. My doctor and I have figured out that I need to consume 600 calories a day in order to lose weight. That’s how sucky lethargic my metabolism has gotten. Keep working out and ignore the scale.