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.