Pictures! 194.6 lbs Size 18 pants

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Tomorrow?!?!

Its easy to procrastinate. I guess anyone overweight must be good at procrastinating in some respect. I’ll start dieting tomorrow, I’ll get on that treadmill on Monday, I just have too much to do today and this weekend. I am a master procrastinator. I can save a paper that was meant to be done over a 4 month stretch of time and condense it into one sleep deprived evening. Same with my laundry that I don’t do for weeks. Or that painting (the one sitting in the arts center that I still have to finish). The thing I have to do gnaws at me until I just can’t take it anymore and then I do it all in one sitting. The quality ranges from good (my senior English paper) to okay (my latin midterm) to just plain bad (my laundry). But there are somethings you cant really put off and then expect to do all in one evening. Like loose weight. Like eighty pounds of it. I put it off all the time. I’m doing it right now honestly, as I sit in my common room and wait for my (3^rd) batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies to come out of the oven. Tomorrow, I’ll eat fruit and you know berries, and all that stuff that sustaisn birds but today my feelings were hurt. Today I found out my ex is walking with one of my best friends into our graduation ceremony. Some friend right? Why? Why would this person do this to me knowing how much my ex has hurt me? Why its enough to make a girl bake 10 cakes. There’s some thing comforting about finding the ingredients, carefully measuring them and then filling the dorm with a smell everyone loves. It makes people happy, I make people happy. Or at least my cookies do. But what of my body? What of myself? Well surely my body will still be there tomorrow and I can start then. Surely you can’t expect me to start now.

But what will it be tomorrow? What snarky side comment, or depression riddled realization will lead me to four packs of ramen? To two sandwiches at dinner? I just took the cookies out of the oven. Am I supposed to not eat any? I feel sadder thinking of that, sadder thinking of my bad day, AND the fact that I can’t even eat what I want. Like my life is one big puddle of injustice. Can this stop? I mean days with little bad moments are inevitable…but I guess the food binges aren’t. What is it instead that I have to turn to? I feel so alone. And let me tell you meditating for 30 minutes does NOT compare to one of MY chocolate chip cookies. All that gooey wonderfulness making me feel warm and loved.

I guess the mature thing to do would be to say, FOOD WONT BE THE ANSWER TO MY EMOTIONAL DISTRESS. I will find other ways to cope. But haven’t I tried? I guess it’s worth another shot.

Maybe this would be a good time for me to outline some goals. Goals are tricky I think at first they should be small, small enough to be accomplished soon, and non numerical. I don’t want a scale to rule my life.

BIG

-Be nicer

-Loose 80 lbs

-Go outside more

-Get a better relationship with my mother and father

This Month/ This week (since there’s only 1 week of May left)

-Eat a healthy breakfast every day this week.

-Take the stairs to the main building once a day

-Have one serving of lunch

Time time time. Why can’t I just promise to make these changes today and see the effects tomorrow? I’m not patient. I guess I will learn to be if I can ever learn to loose this weight.

Endings

It is officially one week until graduation. We had the alumni dinner tonight when a bunch of alumni comes back and we eat and talk to them and Mr. Roach gives a talk and then the guys get neckties and the girls necklaces. Something about endings make me sad, even if the thing ending is something I never really liked in the first place. I got really sad when I left after my year abroad in Italy, even though I was leaving a host family I never really connected with and a HORRIBLE ex boyfriend who was at best, verbally abusive. I just don’t like the feeling that I’ve missed so much. Leaving boarding school makes that especially difficult. Our headmaster likes to talk about what a transformative place this is. How we have all contributed to it, I feel sad though, because I feel like he isn’t talking to me. What have I contributed to this place? What have I done that people will miss. It is easy to blame on my weight. I feel as though if I were thinner, I could’ve tried to be good at sports, I wouldn’t have been so self conscious I could have been happier, made more friends, been less sarcastic. Do you ever feel like this happens to you? Like every SINGLE problem in your life, every SINGLE reason why you’re unhappy can be traced back to your weight problem? A relationship with a boyfriend gone bad? He didn’t like you because you were too fat. Friendships feeling weak? Its hard to stay in touch with people when you’re holed up in your room because you feel horrendous in ALL your clothes. It even gets more absurd….bad test grade? Couldn’t muster the will to study because I was feeling so depressed about the bad breakup/bad friendships/the fact that none of my dresses fit me anymore.

I wonder how much of our problems we blame on weight. The fact of the matter is I see people larger than me with a lot of healthy friendships, with a lot of healthy romantic relationships, without being bitter or cold or hurtful and still getting good grades on their Greek tests. What am I without this weight? What if my face isn’t pretty? If my hair isn’t pretty? What will be my excuse for not making friends then. My weight, my body is a prison but it’s one I’ve made, and it keeps me from having to do the really scary things like put myself out there. Its easier to assume someone just doesn’t like you for your weight, then you get to call them shallow. What happens if they just don’t like you? I want an end to this weight. I want an end to being medically obese and physically uncomfortable. But what will that end look like? Will it be as hard as all my other life endings? Pictures soon maybe. And less about my life suckage and more about food. I don’t want my weight to be an excuse anymore.

Better Days?

Is today a better day? It is Mowie Wowie here. God that sounds so banal. Mowie Wowie, how am I supposed to get excited? How am I supposed to feel anything but alone in this place….in this (boarding) school I hate so much, in this body I hate so much. I feel nothing but disgust for my life. This can’t read well. Some emo fat chick, but still. I cut my arms yesterday, three times on my left forearm. Sort of noticeably I guess which was dumb. But I just kept fighting with my mom. I feel so alone sometimes. So far from anyone who understands me and I’m so anxious. I wish this up coming week were over and we could just be graduates. I do not feel nostalgic, I don’t want to cry. I don’t want to see her family, and god forbid him. It makes me want to tear up just thinking about it. I feel like I’m going crazy, and I just want to punch something and that’s when the cutting makes me feel better. All that anger I have inside comes out just a little bit and I feel relaxed. I don’t get what the problem is, its not major blood loss, its not affecting my life, it just creeps people out. If my mom found out she would KILL me. My back is KILLING me, and it sucks because I know that it is from my excess weight. Today I weighed myself. 194. MY MOTHER IS ACTUALLY A CRAZY BITCH. I try to call her, I try to ask her a question and she just screams hysterically about finding a 7-11. I hung up on her. WHY can’t I have a normal family? WHY cant I have a normal mom who just is nice and friendly and doesn’t make everything shitty? I just want to hit something right now, I just want to scream or hurt some body. I am so mad. I AM SO MAD, at what I am at what my life is like. I hate it. I hate myself. I hate EVERYTHING. When will I HAVE A SUCCESFUL WEIGHT LOSS BLOG? When will people look to ME for inspiration? I feel so petulant. So powerless and ineffective. I feel disgusting. Help?

Honesty is the Best? Reality Bites.

At what point what is what I face my reality? How much is what I think? How much is my life different from how I perceive it? In my current state I am 5’3 and I weigh 195 pounds. I never thought I would be this big. I never thought I could be this honest. Journals always feel read by other people, But I guess anonymity is what one looks for when they wish to be honest. I never thought I would be this big and it happened so quickly. In the blink of an eye and a handful of Zoloft I went from a plump 163 to a jaw dropping 195. I hate my body, and I know how stupid that sounds, how much Tyra and Oprah and all the feminists cringe at me saying it but I hate my body. And I try to love it, I try to look in the mirror and pick out one thing, but the thing is I can’t and even if I can, who cares that I have nice feet, if I look like Shamu’s sister in a tank top. I feel silly, I am smart, I am intelligent, I’ve heard my self called genius, brilliant, witty, but never ever pretty. And again much to the chagrin of feminists everywhere I would happily trade in all of those for skinny. For beautiful. For thin. Why won’t that boy I like look at me? Why does my back hurt so much, why do I snap at people, at my mom, at my friends? Why am I hidden in cynicism and sarcasm?

Because I am in this prison, in this body that I loathe, trapped by this hulking flabby thing that keeps me from jumping up and down when I’m happy, from running to greet my friends…from feeling happy. How different would my life look if I were thin. How much more willing I would be to greet the day, to get dressed, to talk to people. If getting up didn’t entail trying on dresses just to find one that fit. If talking to people didn’t mean trying to hide my thighs or my stomach or try to not notice the way their eyes linger on my chins or on my massive stomach now covered in stretch marks. Do people think I like not going outside? Do people think I enjoy watching dvds by myself? That I like wearing sweat pants all the time? In my fantasy world I am thin, I am 114 lbs, and my hair is wavy, not crazy curly but wavy. I am tan and long limbed and my stomach is smooth and flat. I wake up in the morning for school ready and excited, worrying only about homework, and I pick out my clothes. Form fitting things, things that show my thinness and make it easy to move around. Things that are pretty on me. And I jump so often, I touch so many boys, just so they can touch me back, I move in ways that prove just how small I really am. I wear pretty lacy underwear that you can just see. Maybe I would be a little slutty, but isn’t it fun to be when boys actually look at you? When you don’t date some one just out of sheer surprise that they would ever want you? The most gross part of all this is that I made myself like this, and I don’t know how to get out. I hate working out. But I hate being fat.

Which do I hate more? I guess being fat, but still. I’m lazy. I’m lazy and huge but I guess it is sort of up to me. Today has been a bad day. Today my body is huge and I’m tired, and I want to cry and leave this place and get a new mom and just be done with this life. I guess then, today is a good a day as any to start to try to change that. I don’t know how to do it. Maybe I do. But I guess it’s the trying that matters anyways. I am afraid it will take forever. I get impatient. I mess up. And its just awful. I don’t want to mess up and then I just give up. Forever is a long time. I just want something to change now.