FATARMY

I moved My Blog!

2011-05-15T15:05:00.000+01:00

If, by chance anyone knows I am here, I have moved my blog to a hosted account because I just had enough of the front gate sign I have to use because I swear! So visit me at! http://fatarmy.com

You Tarzan, Me Raw!

2011-05-09T11:39:00.002+01:00

Ok, so I have begun to look into the background info available from so many people on raw living. I have ordered several books by several of the raw gurus and some people I haven’t even heard of as yet.

My interest is at this time is in eating raw, but not going vegan at this time. There is so much I want to say, so many questions and no one to ask them to. I have signed up to different folks YouTube channels and already the conflicting information is beginning to hurt my head.

How do you begin this seriously? In the past I have paid for telephone course, received eBooks, joined telephone groups with people who call themselves experts. How do you know? I eat majority of raw food anyway, I just like it that way. I don’t own a food dryer thing, whatever its called – oh dehydrator or something, I haven’t even opened my blender box from three years ago (I blended at work), but I am really interested in looking into this much more than I did before. Where do I start?

I don’t want, at this time to be completely raw, although I don’t believe you have to eat meat to survive. I like fish and chicken, I don’t think I will need to eat it in coming years but right now I like eating it. I also get confused at the whole alkaline body type issue and how much fruit, green veg etc. It’s all so mind blowing. This morning I picked up my emails in bed, dingy London, well a little sunny at the mo., contemplating the day at work, not feeling to brilliant after another three day lock down and compulsion to eat, cheesecake mainly. Then I picked up an email, an update of a video channel I joined yesterday. Some raw food guru bloke, looks like Jesus. He made me laugh yesterday; he just danced in his kitchen, danced like no one was looking and it made me really happy. See Dan here

I wish for that freedom sometimes. That sense of feeling so alive that you just don’t give a damn about who is watching. I’m not there yet, although I can be silly with the kids I work with, my imagination is fertile and I love that side of me. But dancing in front of anyone at this size would leave me cold; it’s enough to shimmy in the office with dean on good days.

Anyway, his latest video came streaming via my iPhone into my room and I laid their listening to him, listening to the waves, wishing I could walk by the sea and feel the water on my toes, it was a nice site. He is a handsome dude, (and even as a queer old dyke, I can see the charm in his eyes). I like him, his persona, glad he gave up saying ‘can you dig it’ which he said a lot in his making smoothie vids. He seems more chilled out now. He is further along I think in his quest for inner love and peace and I am interested in finding out where he goes. I’m still on a finding journey, trying to work out myself, trying to imagine what it would be like to have the life I feel I deserve to have yet can’t find it in me to read the map and get there. I want to transition like so many other to raw, to an inner peace, to feeling like I am alive, not this huge walking debilitated creature that never smiles inside.

I ordered my mac yesterday, with webcam; I am going to begin my own YouTube channel about my journey. I can’t promise that I wont be hidden at first, because I am not sure I want to be seen looking this crap. But who knows. I need to do this I need to find myself. For years I have been so lost, with such a feeling of unrest. I don’t want to die feeling like I have squandered this life. I don’t want to feel so bad every day, even just sitting. I want to see the joy in things. I want a reality that I can feel.

I'm thinking I'm going to set up my own blog on my server. I don't think this blog deserves to be cordoned off with a warning sign because of the odd swear word and risk that someone might report me. Hmmm, we shall see.

Compulsion Revoltion

2011-05-02T19:11:00.000+01:00

I’m feeling pretty shit, as I do most weekends. This weekend I haven’t thrown up. Not that I’ve been trying to throw up mind you, my body just can’t take the binge food I choose to eat at the weekends. It’s such a potent combination of crap, my body rejects it. This week, I am just feeling ill. Like I have a cold, soar throat, aching weird feeling in my throat, dry mouth big time, foul stench in my gob, but also just sticky crap coming up from my throat. Chesty on occasion and I have no doubt this is because I have taken in high levels of cream and crap food.

This week, i couldn’t be arsed to order online as I did last week at the weekend, so I ordered takeaway. I chose the one takeaway that sold Hagan daz ice-cream. Instead of getting the usual takeaway order, which by the way I haven’t done for months now, I ordered, not one, not two, but three 500ml tubs of Haagen-Dazs ice-cream, cheesecake, Belgium chocolate and cookies and cream. Two down one to go and really, i should bin it, because I am feeling real rough. I also ordered a Chinese whilst I was at it, which wasn’t that good, fried meat rice with ribs in a thick gloop and sweet and sour in a thick gloop and now, I feel the pain.

My back has had this weird pain in it, for some time, not sure if its bad posture or if something is going on there because of the weight.

Its odd, its like a fizzing under the fat, to one side, kind of numb to the touch, just odd. Just fat poisoning no doubt.

Last week I was so violently ill on banoffee pie, a whole one from Sainsbury that I text my nephew to ask if he could come and pick the other ‘bad’ food that I had left up. At first, when saw his message in the morning, I was horrified because I read it that he couldn’t make it. I saw that he had tried to call and rather than ring him back, my brain went into over drive, strop, then fuck it, I’ll eat the rest of what’s in the fridge.

Then I text him to say ‘forget it’ because I read the text wrong, thinking he was saying he couldn’t make it till the morning, which was Sunday and by then, too late. You see when you binge, and then have a real bad reaction t it, the guilt tells you to get rid of the bad stuff, the bad food in the house. I can’t throw it away as I have a real issue with waste, so the next thing is to see who wants it. Anyway, I told him to forget it, then an hour later, still feeling pissed off and guilt wearing off and me getting ready to start on a cheesecake (whole), I re-read his text which said he could do it ‘now’. Being Saturday, I said yes. I packed the oven chips (I didn’t order those, the Sainsbury guy left them and no one collected them, one of the cheese cakes, crème fresh, crisps, and other bits into a bag loaded up and ready to go before I changed my mind.

Thank goodness it was taken away. It would have been a million times worse the following day.

Anyway, the third Haagen-Dazs is gone now, eaten with a banana. I feel weird and sick and sad and frightened of the coming weekends.

I know what i should do to change, during the week I am eating really brilliant food, mainly raw until eve where I eat portion controlled food from M&S. But this binging at the weekend is more potent than when i was a smoker gathering many packs of fags to see me through the weekend, just in case.

It’s all consuming, oh the irony of it all. I feel failed every weekend, this weekend, I know I have now gained the weight I removed over the last month, working hard, trying hard-ish, but not at weekends. I feel out of control again and the more I think about it, the more the cravings boom inside my head. I watch addicted to food and every episode in, I find more and more that i wish I had the money to go there for the 45 days intensive treatment. I don’t, I doubt there is anyone out there who will pay for it either. Lol I am trapped inside this nutter of a woman and I just don’t seem to be able to tell myself NO!

Week Two - Mr Non Motivated!

2011-03-29T10:07:00.000+01:00

So, last week, I did the training session for an hour with Tony. It was really hard and to be honest, at one point my heart ached so much I thought I was going to faint. I just kept going. He seemed motivated, although having worked with T for ages now, I also know that he can be pretty flaky too.

I was in real pain Thursday evening, but felt good for doing it. I felt so ill by late evening, to sleep and take the pain away I had to take anti inflammatory pills. I am still in pain today, and today is Tuesday. Tony booked today in and at 9.30am when we were supposed to begin, the phone in the office rings. It's Tony, telling me he can't make it today and can we do it tomorrow at 9am. I felt pretty deflated. I can let myself down, I don't need anyone else to join in with the demotivating partyyyyyy! He then tried to tell me to do at least twenty mins on the bike. I certainly didn't feel motivated by him. I got on the bike because I felt that today, with MY effort, it would have been a waste if I hadn't even bothered to do something for myself.

I did twenty mins on the bike to Jessie J and sweated some. I feel a bit deflated myself now, although I still have to move forward and do this. Never rely on anyone. It's not worth it. I think I may do a search and see what I can come up with for a trainer and pay someone. I don't think I fancy a semi pep talk from Mr T today or tomorrow and as kind as it was for him to offer to do this, there is really no point if he just plays on my worst feeling, which is me failing because I just can't be bothered! If he can't be bothered, then where the fucks the motivation going to come from? Telephone Gym motivation, shall we trademark that shit?

Mr Motivator!!!

2011-03-24T08:35:00.000Z

Now, I'm not expecting Tony to come dressed up in red Lycra, but I am a little worried. Today, I'm in at work for 7.45am, mainly because I couldn't sleep. I wanted to sleep, I wanted to snooze, but the thought of having to work out today with Tony made me get up and come into work. I packed my 'gym' bag last night, it popped the zip it was stuffed so full. I only had a small towel, tracksuit bottoms, top and a hoodie. It's my Biggest Loser hoodie, well... my pretend one. All in 5xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxl sizes. The pants are far too big, they drag on the floor, that's excuse no. 1. So when they catch in the exercise bike I can fall off the bike and pretend I can no longer walk. Trouble is, I already tried to tell Tony yesterday I had a broken leg, but he didn't listen.

One of the kids, (I say kids, he's in his late 20's) is now a taxi driver and he gave me a lift in today. He was off to play golf, having recently passed the knowledge. It was nice to see him, but he didn't quite get why I at first refused the offer for a lift. The walk in is one of my only work outs so far. So I suppose I am a little worried about today as well as really hoping that it gets me mentally enthused so that I can burn this huge load of fat off.

I have no real idea what he has in store for me. I think he is looking forward to beating me up in the 'gym' as it were. I do know that he wasn't to do 'the pads' so I shall be boxing the crap out of it. My tea this morning just doesn't have any taste! Signing off and hopefully won't be signing on from hospital after a heart attack!

Oxygen

2011-03-15T09:48:00.001Z

Princess Betty Le Principauté de Monaco

I need some air today. As it begins to warm up here in London, I can feel the panic set in. I hate this time of year, certainly in the last few years as I grew in size. Fat on top of fat doesn't make FatBetty a happy brrd. Everything is aching, I only have a little way to walk in to work, but sometimes it feels as though I am climbing mount Everest.

Today, the whole staff team are off to a training day, in Fulham. Whoop fucking doot. Do I want to go and take in Child Protections stuff? Nope, there is a procedure to follow when something crap happens here, we follow it. I don't need to be told of anything other than if the law has changed and that policies need to be updated to state that. I feel panic inside, my muscles ache and I just want to be able to relax. I keep thinking of what I can do to bring some life back into me. I was doing ok, having discovered some great food at M&S, so was able to calorie count and feel ok about things. Then I binged at the weekend. The more out of control I feel with food, the more dark the world looks. I could feel that shadow creeping up on me at home over the weekend. I had to shake it off.

I just wish I didn't feel so tired. I remember being fat but physical, I was able to move, to walk. Now everything is a pain. My back is aching from the weight of my belly and really, just how un-natural is that? I bet Madonna doesn't feel this shit every day, but then she goes to the gym to work off any fat cells and she buys little black babies in boxes!.

Yesterday myself and Dean went to pick up my glasses from specsavers. We popped into Primark to get some blank t-shirts for the printing project at work. I saw these funny little pink poodle bags, so bought one for all of the Donny crew. I wrapped them in Gingham wrapping paper and presented them to the Donny Crew. For most the evening, we dressed the poodles in brightly coloured ribbons, adding a certain je ne sais quoi to the adorable little pooches. It's hard not to turn into a WAG when carrying a stuffed pink poodle. It made me want blonde weave and nail extensions. My poodle is called Princess Betty of Monaco. Dean called his Esmeralda, Rosie called her Lulu, Kelsey called hers Tallulah and Ruby, we have to wait and see as she was sick yesterday she took her pooch home. So now I wait for the rest of the staff to come in and then we have to do the long trek to Fulham. Blergh. I haven’t even had a tea as yet.

M&S - My New Best Friend!

2011-03-07T14:16:00.000Z

Well, what can I say. Today, myself and Dean popped off to Hammersmith to get my eyes tested at Specsavers. Whilst we were up there, we decided to pop to M&S. My sister kept telling me that when she lost her huge amount of weight a few years ago, that is where she would trot to get some of their food. I must say, if you have even bothered to read some of the past reviews of Sainsbury’s selection of packaged food, then you know pretty much how I feel about them. I use them when I am trying hard to contain the portion size.

I see them as plastic and processed and not very good if I’m honest. Yes, I have my favourites. The Sainsbury shepherd’s pie is one of them, be good to yourself one. It’s filling, plastic, but filling and I swear it is made with the majority of soya as meat in gravy. The label says otherwise, but hey ho. That’s by the by. So, as I may have mentioned I have stocked up on the Sainsbury packaged foods, so we could taste them every afternoon. I must say that since the Stew and dumpling in ale gravy, I say this all with a grimace, I really couldn’t face the others in the freezer. The bad taste that is left in your mouth after eating those boxed foods is atrocious.

Anyway, so I popped along to M&S and looked at some of the fuller for longer, count on us – the lower calorie food items. I was shocked that first off, the boxes are such that you can pull the cardboard aside and look to see if the image on the box resembles anything like the food in the tray, and you can. It was amazing. The food actually looked really nice and very much like the picture on the box. The sausage, mash and gravy looked slightly gloopy, but I didn’t buy that one anyway, so no matter. But overall, the site test tempted us enough to purchase. I chose several from each range and a salmon and potatoes and watercress salad to have today, with some breakfast items and also desserts, which I normally don’t bother with.

All I can say is I have never felt food pop onto taste buds as it did this afternoon. So much so that a one word review of ‘amazing’ would have done. The salad in total was 240 calories, yet it felt as though I was eating well over 700. Amazing fresh food, good taste, beautiful colour, and no bad aftertaste, just the sensation of fresh herbs and amazing dressing teasing the taste buds as the taste faded in my mouth.

I am astounded. I have bought food from M&S before, but usually cakes, or cold and cooked meats. This packaged food is glorious. Their pots of food in little round see through pots that can be microwaved are so tantalising, I am scared to think of how else I shall feel when dinner time comes round. The only thing I am not too pleased at, which I didn’t see in the store was that those potted meals cannot be frozen. Pity. But it is worth the trek to M&S once a week just to top up for lunch time food.

I am astounded. I urge you to pop along and try some of these meals. Sainsbury’s could learn so much from the boxed food. I will of course be letting you know what the boxed meals are like which I purchased for the freezer, as and when I eat them. I didn’t even have time to take a pic for lunch today, it was gone before I thought of leaving a review. Tasty goodness, Lord Have mercy on my soul, I finally found portioned food that I can eat!

Midday Meal Taste Testerssssssssssssssssssss

2011-03-01T14:20:00.000Z

Beef stew and dumplings.

Sub title on box; tender pieces of beef & veg in a rich beef & ale gravy with dumplings.

Let's take this as it's being sold to us as consumers shall we? Take a look at this image.

Wow, look at that beef. It's almost as good looking as when I make my own stew.
Look at those wonderfully plump dumplings,
the thick gravy,
the whole cow being served up on your plate, or promise of one - in a stew for one!!!!! Wow. Thank you Sainsbury's for looking after me when all I really want to do is eat too much and eat huge portions sizes. Thanks for weighing out this deliciousness and doing the major work for me so all I have to do is pop it into an oven and wait for that tasty goodness to come forth and bellyply!
Beautiful looking carrots, and yes, yes... that could be turnip or swede. A sprinkling of additional herbs looks as though this is all we may need, bar the wonderful suggestive peas and broccoli in the background. No worries Sainsbury, I can manage that much...

It's so yummy, we were quite excited to get it out of the oven and eat.

I could just end this here really. Because you can see from the images just what was pulled out of the depths of hell that is the oven!

I'm not sure that in the packaging we might have missed something.. You know, like a small set of control fairies which changes the product whilst its cooking in the oven, out of site, just to fuck you up when you see this thing appear. Something happened. Because that stuff above this paragraph, is not the stuff they show on the box!

There is a faint smell of fake alcohol, or maybe it's real, who knows. Is it ale? I doubt it very much. The ~~liquid gloop~~, sorry 'rich beef and ale gravy' is an insult on taste buds, but has such a weird odour, that it leaves you shuddering. There is an after taste that both of us had, enough to send Deanie down to the local shop to grab some diet coke to wash down the badness with.

430 calories of beef stew like Grandma used to make? Unless Granny was trying to kill you, then no, not like any human ever made. The picture on the box compared to what was inside the box, cooked, was not comparable and is deceitful if I am really chucking it all out there on the table, unless of course you're a food starved pygmy from deepest darkest Baloogna who has never heard of Sainsbury's or had them or any of the other super markets ruin their taste buds.

Who sits at a table at the big super markets and says, hmmm well done science food lab, this meal really tastes like Grandma used to make it'? Who? Someone please tell me who those people are because:

1. They're liars.
2. We have a loaded shot gun with a bullet especially for them.

I feel cheated really. If I wanted to be poisoned for £1.50 I could have found rat pellets for less! Sainsbury's, get rid of your taste testers, something is going horribly wrong if you think your boxed food really taste like somethin' kinda good!
Verdict:
This food is not food!!!!!! And is not worth the £1.50 paid for each of these meals. It's just a box full of mess.

We're Midday Taste Testerrrrrssssssssssssss!!!

2011-02-28T14:50:00.001Z

Sainsbury's Be Good To Yourself Bolognese Pasta Bake

Pus like sauce - Mnnnnnnn tasty goodness.
Tasteless
Nice consistency pasta
No flavour in sauce
Topped with bread crumbs; really? Hard little nodules of something. Mince tastes as though it is fluffed up with soya mince, although none is mentioned in the ingredients.
This is a flavour free zone.
Smell faintly of some kind of herb, but is so overwhelmed with the smell of fake cheese that you can’t make out the floral scent..

306 cals in a meal, so I guess you can’t really complain... Oh yes I can. If they left out the sugar, which can’t even be detected, then I bet all in all this is a 150 cal meal. The meal does not look like what is on the box.

Good point, or maybe two good points...

It a quid and it keeps your hands warm if you don’t bother dirtying a plate and eat from the container.

Dean thought.... that it was lacking in taste, its only redeeming qualities was the price and the pasta consistency which was good. It’s filling, but not fulfilling on taste and quality.

Verdict on our first midday taste tester : Overall flavourless boxed frozen meal. Have a cake instead.

Look What I Found! It's me.

2011-02-28T08:46:00.002Z

Signs of Compulsive Eating or Binge Eating

Physical signs and symptoms
Frequently out of breath after relatively light activities.
Excessive sweating and shortness of breath
High blood pressure and/or cholesterol
Leg and joint pain
Weight gain and eventually decreased mobility due to weight gain
Loss of sexual desire or promiscuous relations
Poor sleeping habits and possibly insomnia

Behavioural signs
Chronic dieting on a variety of popular diet plans
Hiding food in strange places (suitcases, under the bed) to eat at a later time
Vague or secretive eating patterns

Psychological & emotional signs
Fear of not being able to control or stop eating once started
Isolation
Fear of eating around and with others
Holding the belief that life will be better if they can lose weight
Self-defeating statements after food consumption
Blames failure in social and professional community on weight
Holding the belief that food is their only friend
Mood swings or depression
Fatigue and changes in sleeping patterns

Review of past Weight Watcher Post

2011-02-22T20:01:00.000Z

Hmmm,I just read through some of my past posts, lazy fucker that I am....

Sweet baby Jesus and the soul sisters, I need to review what went on really, especially with most of the posts that stop dead. The last one looks like it was from May 2010 when I joined fucking crapping shitting bastard weight watchers! Oh dear, should there be comer's in that sentence somewhere? Fuck that crap! WW group was a joke. It started off great, but really, wow. What won't they sell you? Nothing! At one point I thought the 'leader' or hey, 'weight management coach' was about to rip out his kidney and offer it to us on a platter, calories included with a point card to work out just what we were getting for the points...... Oh I will enjoy going through what happened there. The shit that's out there makes me want to set some crap up myself. There are certainly holes in the service offered privately and by NHS ans the stuff out there by the mass companies, making billions from fat cunts, wow it's just wrong. Not that I'm against making money, don't get me wrong. But I just wish someone would get it right.

Fuck You!!! The Cee Lo Green way!

2011-02-22T19:53:00.000Z

I know, I’ve been piss ars-ing about and really haven’t looked in on this. Sometimes the whole fat thing just burns me out. I only wish that in between losing a couple of stones and then gaining, I had at least written up what i was doing. Now I would have something to look back on and say, yeah, that’s not too bad. Instead, I lose and gain and lose and gain and fucking gain. I’m tired, I feel so fucking old and i am sick to death of being a moaning fucking bitch.

I don’t even remember what the last post was on here, so I haven’t a clue when it was, or what i said. Funny really. I was in a real dark place at the end of last year, I know that much. I still feel as though I have no real purpose, I work, I make stuff, yet I still feel this pending doom. The fat has eaten away my brain.

I finished seeing the twat at the eating clinic. He was far too much of south park than anyone who really gave a shit about me. I had a fight not to be returned there, I got to see the local weight management team, oh whoop fucking doop. Nice enough people, not a frigging clue about eating disorders, or compulsive beings such as myself. The shrink side of it, was pretty much forced to take me on. She ‘heard me’ every sentence when refusing to go back to the south park dick, but even through ‘hearing me’ the thing people say when they don’t really listen at all, she kept asking me if I wanted to go back to the EDC. I put my foot down, so ended up with her, because they just didn’t have a clue what else they could do with me. I was in that hole, that place that makes it real easy to start to contemplate 101 ways to top yourself. Cause what’s the fucking point to it all when it feels so black?

No one gets it, no one realises that this has consumed me for most of my life and has eaten the last seven away, completely. Easy to think fat cunt, do something to sort it out. DIET, it's not that hard. Hmmmm, you can go suck on my fat arse.

I knew how much of the last seven years i would regret if I stayed in all the time when I wasn’t at work being stressed, eating and watching films. Telling myself that closing myself off to the world and not seeing friends was the best thing for me, to heal me. Of course, all it did was create more rot in my brain and the unhappiness could be smelt on me like it was rotting flesh.

The hatred I felt and still feel for myself is overwhelming. Most days I can stomach it, the odd ripping into my skin around my mouth stops me from eating, the destructing is deep and although I spent the last eight weeks seeing a wonderful shrink, my memory is so bad that it’s almost convenient to forget most of what was said. I don’t actually think I do remember much these days any way. I only wish my memory forgot where the fridge was or what cheese cake was...

So, I’m still in the same place, eating my life away, literally. I’m not contemplating throwing myself out the window, or cutting slices out of my arms, its still that war and I’m still fighting it. Up and down like a fucking fat yoyo. Lots to say, no energy to say it most days, no motivation, no life, catch 22. Stop the fucking winging, get on with it, so I do, then I fall and whine and moan and cry again. Misery? Not really. Habit. Meanwhile I feel alive when I am at work, messing about with the kids I work with, but once that door closes, I am locked away, the ugly monster in the attic.

Lots to catch up with, so I might as well spit it out here. I was told my the last shrink, lovely chick, to log the good and look back at it. Take it in, listen to it, love myself. That’s hard to do, especially with two baked cheesecakes hanging from my mouth. Tut tut. I’m off to make a tea. I’ll be back soon.

Oh yeah, I tell you what, I'm going to start reviewing some stuff out there that I have been using. One thing that gets on my tits, that I bought right into was the KiFit. Oh, that will be a good review. I tell you what, do a search on Kifit, then ask yourself just how real everyone of those reviews are out there that you can pull up on Google is my friend! Well, I bought mine, I wasn't given it by the company, so it will be a review which goes beyond a day of using it or a quick update of what the band does. Stay tuned, even if you can't be arsed!

New Beginnings?

2010-05-19T11:13:00.000+01:00

So, what can I tell you? Yesterday, I decided to join weight watchers. After many, many years, I walked back through the doors, nervous as hell, yet weirdly excited. Nearly crapping myself due to nerves, I had to go to the loo to have a good ole fart and hope that plodding back into the hallway wouldn't leave a recognisable trail of something something....

What made me come to this decision? I can't really tell you, other than I am still huge and feeling weighed down by this growing mass of fat that seems to engulf me. I'm tired of wearing dull clothes and not being able to move without hurting. So I signed up with a friend and sat listening to lots of background noise from his 'helpers' and trying to make sense once again of how this can be applied to my life. I hate it when people generalise, that all fat people eat badly, or unhealthy. I eat far too much and do nothing most days. My portion size is massive and could probably feed a whole family of four. But yet, somehow, all fat people live off chicken nuggets, Mac D's or ice cream sandwiches.

There were far too many people there whose faces I knew and who knew mine. But I just kept telling myself this is for me, no one else. The first step truly was to get over the threshold of the hallway, fill in the forms and then get weighed. I asked him whether the scale would take my weight, he leaned forward and said 'it's ok, it goes up to 35 stone'. I laughed, I won't be needing that much out of the scales. But nearly!!!

So, I'm tracking what I eat, and I will also have to up my movement to make sure I start to burn calories. I'm on 31 points per day.

I'm feeling full of a weird cold and throat infection so I'm signing off now and will be back with some bits later.

Planet Weight

2010-01-28T14:27:00.000Z

I’m reading a book Over Coming Overeating, conquering food obsession, I am at the part where it tells you to imagine a world where you stay exactly the way you are. You never gain weight, you never lose weight, you - just. stay. exactly. how. you. are.

I wanted to write now, because it’s a poignant part of the book for me I guess. It made me stop and think, I laid the book down and thought about how I would be if I never thought I would ever gain another pound or lose another ten… and somewhere in my head, something is stopping me from thinking about it too much, I can see parts of how I would react, or can I?

Its like a block, like not knowing which way to turn, not allowing myself to go further into my brain as the whole concept is alien after living a life so far which is complex and riddled with food every single day.

How would I cope with that? They ask whether or not you’d go swimming – would I buy clothes that fit properly, would I start to travel again? Would I do all the things that I put off until…

I’m finding it hard to move past the idea of never being able to change, to lose weight. Being able to eat what I want when I want without punishing myself for eating the wrong things, or eating too much… I find myself asking how would that work?

Would I live my life? Would I feel as shit as I feel right now in as much pain as I feel right now? If so, would my life even be worth living? Would I finally take the plunge and kill myself? Or would I just settle down tot the fact that this is it. I don’t know, maybe I am digging too deep with the question; within that fantasy could it ever work?

Could I ever come to terms with what is? To make myself believe that I can live now and that this in itself will create a normal existence.

Walking Backwards

2010-01-24T23:15:00.000Z

I feel as time has stood still for the last five years. Everyone has moved on, changed, grown and all that's happened to me (so it feels) is that I have grown in size. I feel as though my soul is dying, most days there are tears, struggling with what's inside my head and what I stare at daily. I have tried to cut back, but the pattern now is once I am home and out of site the eating is more erratic and obsessive. The new rules I made for myself have kicked in and now, nothing of what is considered bad food can be left behind after a weekend. Because waste is not something I can bare, it means that it all has to be eaten, whether I want to or not.

It can't be explained because I know its not normal. I sabotage myself every day and yet everyday feel the pain inside me, that i create for myself. I want to slap myself, instead I eat, I want to cut myself, instead I eat, I want to stop the cycle, and yet all i can do is eat. I eat until I feel my stomach bursting until my heart feels as though it is being pushed through into my mouth and yet, I do nothing to stop this obessive nonsense.

I am on my own. I have tried shrinks, I have tried Doctors, I didn't try surgery and now, maybe I am thinking - I should have? I don't know. Last week I thought I was dying, i thought I was having a heart attack. I wasn't, I nearly panicked, but it was eating a huge portion of brown rice and chickpeas with lean turkey. Too big for the evening, too big for one human stomach, but I managed to get it down me, and then I managed to beleive I was dying. It's a madness I have lived with so long, and because I hate waste, I can't even throw it all up again. I am still fighting my war against fat! Against myself.

New Year?

2010-01-04T10:57:00.000Z

I guess with each new year I hope for a change in heart and mind. It rarely comes. Because of course it takes work. To change habits of a lifetime, to give myself back a life I am desperate for, takes time and in my head there is no time, it's running out fast!

But you see, I allow it to. This mornng I weighed myself and the scales weren't smiling. I have put on 9lbs over the holiday period and lets face it that period was just over a week since we closed the gates at work. I know the weight was creeping on before that time, but was I able to, did I actually want to weigh myself? No, of course not. I knew with every mouthful of cake, cream, chocolate, beef, bacon, turkey, custard that i was dragging myself down into a mental overload.

But it didn't stop me. I didn't tell myself to pace it, to stop, to think about the guilt afterwards. I just kept going. I did the thing I hate most, i did the 'waiting for Monday' thing. That thing that doesn't break cycles, patterns or habits, because it is one. Anyway, I weighed in at 23.5lbs, was it a shock? NO! It just feels liek an awful long way to go. I can feel the layers of fat which had been removed in 09 under my boobs and over my belly.and to my sides. I feel lethargic, but whats new, I feel dead. There is no life in my eyes and after years of fighting with myself, I wonder just what I can do to make things work and go the right way when my head is so caught up in decades of failure.

I don't always want to live in a cage, to be in a dark place. I even forced myself to go out on New Year (albeit to my sisters) to at least promise myself a change in whats to come with picking up on a social life again to stop the focus in my life being around food. I drank loads of Stones Ginger Wine this year, more than before. But that's all in the back draw now, I don't normally drink and I doubt that will change much. So a plan?

Hmmm, plans tend to fail, I know that much. professional help? Not after the experience I had with the idiots who do a worse job at it than me. Weight Watchers was an option, but then its an awful lot of money to just be sitting at the back of a cold hall getting weighed, listening to a bit of chat and with no real support where I believe it's needed, as a group. I need to be able to get the support from people who get what I'm going through, although there seems to be little available. So, I will count calories and see if I can find something or start something. i would love to start my own club, just for support. But will I have the inclination and the time to be cocnistent? I haven't a clue. It's a fresh start, and before you know it it will be the summer and I want to have at least made some effort to make a change this year.

Freak Like Me

2009-12-16T11:38:00.000Z

Looking back, has anything very much changed within my head and with me phsically? No, not really. Or maybe it has, but its not enough that I can see it everyday and use it like a safety net to prevent myself from free falling more down a very dark hole. I get moments of control, which make me quite happy. But then again, its the very same feeling of happiness that I get from certain food, that kind of food like ice cream, fresh bread and butter, the type of food that makes you do a happy food dance when you're eating it!

I do know that I'm more tired than before, not sure if that's just the weight, the stress of life, work, struggling every day with food. It's exhausting. I wake with dark circles under my eyes and pain in my body although I found out recently that a very fit friend of mine who is slim feels the same and I'm sure it's not sympathy pains he's having for me. I ache constantly, but funnily enough since beginning this blog, I have lost weight. Ok, I tend to lose and gain and lose and gain, then hover over the same weight, then sabotage then gain, then lose, then have another idea on hjolw I can fight through it. Tell you what Fat person, how about you just realise that you need to start to live again.

Catch twenty two. Don't want to go out because I feel like a freak, so I stay in, I get more lonely and then I order online and eat, or just over eat and search for other food in large qualtaties, again, I know I need to go out to keep busy, live a life. Instead I stay in, suffocating myself in this caged fat, hurting inside my head and not being able to crawl out the hole I made for myself in the last five years. Now I am fearing Christmas, being on my own never used to bother me, but as I grow older and see my life wiltle away my heart breaks some more, because it's only me who is preventing me from changing. How many more years of this can I take. How do I fight it through if the professionals couldn't make an impact on this stone cold fat source.

I'll update on that nonsense and the shrink later on. Right now, I'm planning other ways of trying to see life for what it is and bring the sparkle back to my eyes. For ages now, they have looked lifeless. I'm the walking dead, except I don't look as good as a zombie. Nice!

Magic Fucking Pill

2009-06-01T09:34:00.002+01:00

Well we all know there isn’t one. Do you feel my pain? I hope so. I am at my wits end, this lark seems to consuming me and my non existence in this world. I can’t seem to make headway and if someone offered me diet crack, I’d fucking well take it. I can feel time running out, every single day I can feel it trickle away and there seems to be little I can do about it. My neck is stiff, my bones ache constantly and although I am eating healthier than I have done in ages and have cut out most of the things which I thought were the bad guys, I am still struggling to shift this meat.

I can hear the whining, the moaning daily in my head. I can feel the loneliness and heart ache inside me. I can see the pain in my face the darkness in my eyes, the life being kissed away and as I whisper to myself ‘it will all be ok soon’ the breath snuffs the final sparkle out and I feel there is nothing left. I don’t know if you will understand this, or know just what I’m on about What I’;m hoping is that if you come across this that you will feel the numbingly boring constant process of tredding mud that I go through every single day. To be me is to live your life in a box, only coming up for air when you have to. My life is dull and empty - I know that! I live it. I am changing it, but nothing seems to change very fast.

Since January I have lost two stones, or so i believe. My mind is so rotten now I can’t remember the smallest details, I rely on scrawling inside cupboard doors to remind me and the amount of stretch marks around my gut.

I want to feel human again, I want to feel alive and feel that this is all worth it. The more the whispers get louder the more I see that if I can’t change this, then there really is no point. I’m not the type to look to suicide for comfort - if that’s what you could call it. But, I do wonder why I am here because this isn’t living. If I feel this way then how on earth do people who weigh 400lb’s feel? I can’t imagine, although I was nearly there myself. I find it hard to express what I mean, I fill myself with food to stop the thinking process, I know that.

I was this close to calling for a take away the other night, but I stopped myself thinking of the guilt that would ensue after eating. But eating good things hasn’t shifted the main bulk of this crap and I shudder to think just how many more years of this I will have to put up with. Yes, its all in my head and to find the button and turn it off is obviously harder than i thought it would be. Even the CBT didn’t work, but then really - what CBT was actually given during that time. I’m tired. I can’t give up.

1st January 2009

2009-01-10T10:35:00.002Z

It’s 12.59am, I’m 44 years old and listening to Aretha at home having spent the evening clearing through cupboards, wardrobes and chucking out stuff that has cluttered my life now for many many years. I watched a little of Jools Holland Hoot ‘lets just bring in all my mates kids to sing songs they can’t even sing properly and who are pretty much a talentless bunch of brats who have jumped on the backs of their parents spine wagon spines’ Nanny. I got bored pretty quickly. So it is back to Aretha and contemplating what 2009 holds.

One thing I seem to have realized is that it’s basically up to me. Now, I can go into this year not trying at all as in previous years, or I can try half heartedly, or I can give it a damn good shot and to the things which will make me change and be happy! Now we all know it’s easy said than done, but somehow, on the 1st of January this year, I feel like something is brewing. There is something else inside me and its been growing now for quite a few weeks. I doubt it has anything to do with Guy Morgan at the clinic for eating disorders, or with me having digested a whole series of fat March, whom I believe had to use such a shite title because they realized that Fat Army was already taken! HA!

I know I’m bored, on a really big level and am ready for a change. Trouble is when I feel like this normally it means something big, and the biggest thing I can do is to change me, change my shape, change my outlook… I can only take a few steps at a time, and stop battering myself when things don’t go my way.

I have watched people ride off the back of my hard work in the past, time and time again and some, who are still happy to do it. I find that amusing but also frustrating as I know what was given out and which also left me worn down and low. But I guess I cannot focus ont hat crap any more. I can see the benefit of what I did in the past, I can also see the damage it did to me, someone with a pretty fucked up ed already. Its loads of things, loads of stuff which rears its head from the past, but not as much as it used to. But I can sit around contemplating this shite for the rest of my life. It just won’t get me any further, and I will make the bitter and twisted pills joke true, completely. It won’t even be tongue in cheek any more.
I don’t want to end up like that.

Just like I don’t want to end up thinking about death every day, feeling ill every day, looking in the mirror and turning away quickly every day. I want to sing loudly about my ideas and have someone hear me call, and see how great they are and give me an opportunity. I am giving myself an opportunity to change and I know once I begin then all those ideas had can become reality and change my life for the better and alongside that, change the lives of people I love.

I feel out of breath, not because I’ve been running about like an arse, but because I have just lost that gusto needed in the past to realize the things which are important. 44 yers old and still living in darkness after nearly 15 years is not good for anyones soul. Literally, I have lived in my flat in the dark, blinds down, rarely opened unless pushed. In the early days it wasn’t so bad, but in the latter years, last 6 or so, its been pretty much in darkness.

I’m at work more than home, so I guess really it doesn’t matter so much. But somehow I think I am coming out of my own darkness. From now on I shall list my achievements rather than feel that nothing has moved forward. I don’t want to be reminded by other folk anymore of how talented I am, or how much I have changed in one year. I need to be the one to remind myself of that. I had such great dreams, such big dreams for one person and they haven’t gone away as yet. Today, is the first day I believe in me to make that change.

No Negro’s, Irish or fat birds please….

2008-11-03T09:37:00.029Z

Today I had to go to a place in London where people with eating disorder pretend to get help. I wasn’t in the mood for it, having spent 20 on shopping and treat for Dominic, I had 20 quid left and I knew that wasn’t enough to get me there and back in a cab. So I looked everywhere at home and thank goodness, finally found some cash (15 quid of it) strewn in the bottom of my gym bag. *gym? Did you say gym?* I actually thanked God and thought; maybe this will be a good day after all. Like fucking hell! I had booked my cab for a quarter past 8am to make sure it was there in time. He said ok, no problem. Having thought I called my usual cab firm and not the ‘B’ labelled cab used for desperate needs in the phone address book.

The cab arrived at 8.15. A silver Mercedes, brand new with an old man with an ear peace in the front seat, I saw him staring at me and he was fast to react as he rolled down the window, the car still moving. He made some excuse that he wasn’t the cab for my address. At that point, I thought, ‘odd’ but I let it go, and in the back of my mind I already knew what had just taken place. I called the cab controller who then told me a silver mercy should be pulling up..right..About…I interjected (just because I could and because I like the word)…’He was already here, and he already left saying he wasn’t the cab.. .’

The controller then disappeared and then came back with a few too many lies which followed the line of ‘Oh he’s just by the bins’…ummmmm ‘He will be there in a minute, a silver merc’. I stated that I already knew that the car that went past was my cab, on time but for ’some’ reason not wanting to have a big bird screw with his suspension. The controller said to wait. By this time the time was witling away and getting nearer to the time of my appointment. The anger in me was becoming more and more apparent and began to curse - loudly. I called several times, and this time the controller didn’t even bother picking up the phone.

So I began to walk to the bus stop having rung my proper cab firm who didn’t have any for another half hour. I rang and rang and by the time I hit the bus stop, and started looking for a black cab, the time was pretty much hitting 8.45am. I was going to be late.

*Ring fucking ring*
‘your cab's outside’
‘too late, I have gone’ *insert all forms of expletive, letting them know they were a shite cab firm and that I’d be popping in later to see them face to face*
‘very sorry’
*disconnect*
******************************

***************************
[Their conversation]
‘why didn’t you pick up that fare?’
‘Too fat, she’ll ruin my suspension’
‘its work’
‘But who will pay when my suspension dies?’
‘Ok, Ok, I’ll lie for you this time’
************************************************************

‘CUNTS!’

Having then waited for another black cab, the first having turned me down and drove past I managed to get a cabby who was not only polite and chatty but who also had a very similar point of view on the way this country is going down the fucking drain. From people who have no ethics, to liars and cheats and people who judge others how they wish never to be treated themselves… I am tired, really tired. Neither paranoid nor schizophrenic I am sick of the attitude in this country - so why not just join forces with the rest of the fuckers.

I arrive at the appointment ten minutes late to face an African woman at the entrance of the eating disorder clinic, of no small size herself standing staring at me as though I were an alien that just landed in a pair of lime green hot pants. She watched me walk up the stairs scowling at me. I looked at her, smiled and said ‘I have an appointment’ I didn’t look rough and ready to go, I don’t look like a drug addict and I certainly don’t stink of alcohol, so what’s with the glare you stupid ugly freaky bad weaved trollop?

‘What? ‘She said in disgust ‘You’re here for appointment, in this clinic?’
As my ears sifted through her mumbling, I wondered how she dealt with the majority of women in the clinic who are anorexic, suffer from bulimia and also the same eating disorder as I do… Granted, she could stop and be shocked, but hide it on your hard nosed ugly cunting face as it’s not the first thing of a morning I choose to see. At least know what service the place provides you obviously work at, you ignorant excuse of a hairdressers dream.

So I went in, saw a skinny arse, tall creepy looking guy who looked as though he had just crawled through a TV screen escaping from South Park. I just couldn’t be bothered now; already a shite day and I can imagine what else was yet to come. But full of interesting things to say about how the ‘programme’ will work. Nothing like how Denise runs her sessions, and I knew she didn’t know what the hell she was doing. There is no format to her sessions. AND it seems that she shouldn’t have even allowed me to go on any form of diet during the process. They can only check my behaviour as it stands by monitoring me as I am now. Too late, I’ve paid for weight watchers and I am hardly likely to stop now.

Do I like him? No. I don’t. But then I don’t have to like him really do I?
I just have to make sure I have more than 40 quid for cab fare each week to
get me there and back. I left knowing his therapy sessions would probably be the kind of to make a difference and as I walked away (because of course a clinic like that doesn’t have a cab firm to call for patients – ‘cause no one ever leaves there alive) I realised just how fed up I am of my life, of this country and the people in it. All the things I see and deal with daily. Today, I know for a fact if I had a gun, I would have killed. I know it.

I have spent the morning thinking how I can get back at the cunt of a cab firm. They cost me 7 quid in additional fares instead of 13 today and so I shall waste their time too.

You see, I see it this way - now all my life I have pretty much done things the way THE MAN tells you to. You know, straight up, tried to be as honest as I could, tried to stay on the straight and narrow and not shit on people. In all of my 44 years I know it doesn’t work. It’s a no win situation. If you fuck up, if you go to prison, if you’re a bad kid labelled with behavioural issues, if you fuck with people, beat people, rip people off, if you’re long term unemployed, if you’re scamming the system, ripping off the housing by subletting and owning your own property, claiming whilst working, buying property whilst claiming housing benefit – YOU WIN.

That’s the truth, YOU WIN. Straight up-no lie try it. I SEE IT DAILY, I HEAR ABOUT IT, I READ ABOUT, I KNOW ABOUT IT IN THE COMMUNITY I WORK IN. I don’t believe I treat those I don’t know disrespectfully for any apparent reason. I attack when attacked and more than not I will keep out of trouble – in fact I have never been in trouble, not with the authorities. I have a big mouth and a bad attitude but I use it with caution. No conflict, no drama = no grief. So why, when you’re going about your very own business, does this crap continue to happen?

I thought it would be a normal day today and instead, I feel tears well up in my eyes on the (had to get public transport) bus back to work. I held back and again as I scrunched myself up as small as I could get into the seat so no one would moan that I was taking up too much space – it’s a fat girl trick.

On the way off the bus, an old woman sat across from me just staring. So I
smiled, because again, rather than be arrested for attacking an elderly bird because of paranoia more than cause, I would rather that her thoughts were dispersed by warmth than anger.

But it was obvious from her look what she was thinking and it’s getting more and more apparent these days. The bigger I got the more I realised I am being judged on how I look. Yes, we all get judged and those that say they don’t judge are probably liars. As fat as I was in the past, I have never experienced this level of fat and so can now see the difference in the way I was treated when in the public eye. I guess I am hating the haters today. So much for this rant.

It’s doing crap things to me; it makes me feel lost and really very sad. There’s little I can do but do what I am doing to try to sort it out. Mr South Park can squeal at me in the tones of a councillor who blatantly starves himself, really I am getting more from the book I bought for 7 quid and it’s turned out to be worth more, so far than anyone of these ‘trained’ people I’ve seen. I have been taken out of my comfort zone and no, I don’t like it at all. But I don’t deserve the latest bashing; I can do bashing on me quite well without the rest of the world joining in. Am I angry? Yes I’m fucking furious at where I put myself in my life and how others judge me because of my fucking fat!

And before any self righteous twats claim this to be a racist rant, I’m mixed race, part Swiss & part Jamaican, so stick that in your liberal pipe and piss off.

And I Would Walk 500 Miles…

2008-09-15T09:49:00.011+01:00

I just signed up to weight watchers again. I did once, well, the last time was 2005 and look, four years + later I’m well and above what I was then. I don’t even know what good it will do. Defeatist? yes, but then after practically 34 years of thinking about weight and not feeling ‘normal’ I guess some how you get to that place. The shrink last week had said to me that she feels I always have some excuse that something isn’t working. Yes, that’s possibly true, but then again it doesn’t say that much for her either really. Seeing as I am coming to her because of an eating disorder and that I believe *generalisation coming up close your eyes* fat people some fat people are pretty damn devious. Or should I say, those which have eating disorders of any kind can be fucking devious. So much so, I felt her snippy comment was out of place. She is there to give me tools, I can’t be the first difficult bird she’s dealt with and since when did anything happen to go her way, straight from the get go?

Any way it has made me quite peeved and normally I would go in and share it with her, or at least be open and honest and after her comment, it left me thinking why the fuck was I honest in the first place? It makes me quite pissed off. She asked whether I was angry at her last week and that I could be if I wanted to be. Anyone who knows me will tell you, if I want to be angry I don’t frigging well need permission. I don’t know who she deals with under this CBT thing, but I may well be a fat fuck with no real control over my eating, but I’m not a shy retiring type of fat fuck.

So she told me to follow a ‘plan’ before eating I MUST write it all down. Now in my head that turns into some huge big complex thing which prevents me from moving. I try to work it all out in my head and yet, it gets to be such a huge issue, I don’t bother t even think about it. So I began to attempt to plan, whatever that means..I felt like someone had just pulled me back into school revision years and having just screamed ‘revise’ at me, without telling me just how one is supposed to do that.

So when the call came from V. eating disorder clinic, the people who assessed me and who supposedly have an understanding of my disorder, I was a little happier. Then I listened to the bloke on the phone and he sounded just like a male version of my shrink at the other place. I think, somewhere, someone must be breeding these very sensitive people who speak with their heads cocked to one side and speak in nice people tongue. They don’t know how to be firm, and as Cameron my nephew says,

‘Get a spine man, get a spine…’

So, I shall see who gets over the wining line first, Denise, the mac daddy at V clinic. Or Weight Watcher core plan. Meanwhile I have to stop the growth of my gut. I am American massive, that fatness which everyone knows is creeping into the UK more and more and we are becoming the super obese, the people whjo you only ever saw on documentaries from the states. I am now pretty much on the outter circle of becoming one of those people. I am a slip away. It needs to stop now. Just how far will I walk to be who am inside?

Darkness falls

2008-08-19T10:30:00.001+01:00

I guess i shouldn’t do anything when I am in gloomsville. I managed to fuck up my wordpress update last night. Now I had to reinvent my categories and things in the back end look odd and crappy. Bloody shite. Oh well. I never know how to keep up with the bloody updates that wordpress and Joomla releases all the frigging time.

Fucking annoying.

I chatted to a friend last night even though the mood was blue and the black clouds were low Funnily enough, by the end of the conversation, my mood had lifted a bit. My shoulder responded to the pills this time and a bit more of the acid burning deep ‘I’m gonna burn your skin off’ heat spray also worked somewhat.

I still have the pain, but it’s certainly less than yesterday. I’m at work today, for an hour I sat watching the squirrels play under the bark, darting in and out of the green litter bin. I didn’t realise they weren’t that fussy in what they ate. They came really close, nervous little furry rats. I like them though, they make me smile. I caught some on my blacksmerrrrry ferry and I may well put them up at some time, never! I am off to find myself a new blackberry theme. I survived for one more day!

Killing Me Softly

2008-08-18T09:52:00.005+01:00

That’s where I am right now. In a cage made of fat! I am in pain, I have this nasty weird feeling in my left shoulder, I don’t even remember when it arrived. It’s just there and it makes me feel scared and uncomfortable. My bones are weaker now, the more fat goes on, it seems the weaker they get. Like ivy crawling over a trees bark, eating into it until the wood is left hollow. I am drowning… After all this time, I am killing myself. I know it.

I have not much left to live for when I feel this bad. This is the first time that a large bowl of someting someting hasn’t taken my thoughts away from the way I feel. That pain in my stomach didn’t make me focus on it this time. This time I am thinking of death. It feels as though my body is dying. I am killing me softly…

Every time I breath i can feel my rib cage hit my huge stomach which somehow knocks against that pain inside my shoulder. It’s like a stitch inside my arm, aching. Nothing works to take that pain away. I took ibuprofen and sprayed Deep Heat, which only seemed to take off the first layer of skin with it’s burn and stench. I weighed myself after I ate - I never do that any more either. I am now 24 stones and a few pounds. I can’t even make a joke about it today. I am so far away from normal it is easier to keep killing myself. I have no idea how I shall ever be pulled back. There seems to be little option that works for my twisted brain. My way of thinking is changing, increasingly dark and deeply deeply unhappy. I have been here once before, when all seemed lost when there was nothing to keep me here. Then, I felt the brush of air against my cheek. Like a wisp of something and then it was gone. I can’t imagine there is anything there this time, waiting to keep me from the dark.

I cry more than laugh, I tire more than I feel energised. I am beginning to see the world through real shades of grey. There is no colour left inside me. I have to see the CBT therapist on Wednesday, I have very little to say. Two weeks on and I’m supposed to feel what? She wants me to keep writing things down. I’ve been writing in books for most of my life, telling myself stories on how I feel and what I want, how big my dreams were and now…Now- what difference does it make if I write the rules of why I eat this way? What good does it do me to concentrate on how much am eating each day for her to take a look over it in a second and pick out the most emotive words she can find in amongst the scrawl of anger?

I don’t quite see the point. The pain just grows along with my size - I have increased in weight since this hospital shite - just like I did years ago when I joined an over eaters group. The rolls of fat increase tenfold and the darkening of the skin as it runs against itself continues to discolour. Pain increases, I feel more low and isolated and then what? For years all I have seen is fat in that writing. In every picture I own, in any video’s that may have survived, FAT. It breathes. I hate everything. I don’t want to go back to work any more. I want to be free.

And all I have to do is jump. The more I think about how I would land if I fell from the window, is becoming increasingly intriguing. I sometimes imagine myself twisted in a pile below, blood oozing around me, hair matted, eyes open wide - no sign of life s I journey somewhere unknown. Sometimes I am naked, sometimes I am clothed and sometimes, sometimes I am covered in so much blood I can’t even see if it’s me. This is my worst self pitying moment in years. I am crying all the time and I want to run away from myself. The only problem is, I have no where to run to because fat always comes too. This pain in my shoulder just reminds me that I’m still alive. And that, that isn’t such a good thing right now.

Red Cross Food Parcels

2008-08-14T10:31:00.000+01:00

I of course wouldn’t actually say no today to a food parcel. I bought some fresh bread from Porto’s this morning from a very stern bird behind the counter. She only ever greets the very posh in that place, to everyone else she cackles and frowns. I like the coffee, I like the bread, so apart from adding her to my shooting wall, there is little I can do. I don’t even feel like writing this morning. I’m at work, but not at work, if you know what I mean.

I won’t be adding my time to the sign in sheet until 11am, because I’m good like that *rolls eyes*. I’m bored and waiting for other workers to come in, goats fed, gates unhinged and so am I…. My belly is rumbling which is a very odd thing for me as it doesn’t really happen that often, I don’t allow it to. I do want something to eat though, and not oats. I will be happy when this week is over and I can do what I want over the weekend. More than not, that means .

Shrink or Swell?

2008-08-13T10:33:00.003+01:00

Well, today was the second visit to the shrink.

D is a pale, slim, quietly spoken woman who speaks with a faint accent of which I can’t place. She is sweet and professional and laughs at my very poor attempt at humour, which covers up my shame I guess in having to even speak with someone in order for them to sort out why I eat the way I do and why I have compulsive behaviour.

She has a kind face, I kind of like her. Her eyes are big and pupils wide and she listens because she may well have to, but also because I think being the way I am and for her to have to suss out why, intrigues her. It bally well should, it’s her job!

The deal is this; That I concentrate on the rules I have made for myself around food which came from childhood. There are many, of course.

But then why would someone who hates towing the line, create or carry so many rules forward from childhood? I haven’t a clue. Safety net? Who knows. I know if I write my top ten rules, number at one will be Food Waste, and not to have any. use my body like a trash can and eat whatever it is rather than throw it away. As a past raw mentor once told me, by doing this, I am treating my body worse than I do the bin. Well, lets see what happens.

I wanted to record the session, but couldn’t. I don’t think my impressive new Blackberry curve allows that, and if it does I have found it as yet. I forgot to take the digital recorder. I arrived there at 10 past 8 so fiddled with the internet for a while on the BB and before I knew it she was walking towards me, an image in green!

We discussed what I need to focus on to change the behaviour I have around food. So I rambled on, confusing myself even more about why I am like this and why at 44 I can’t change this myself without the help of the woman in green.

She laughed at my jokes and listened and read the food diary I had done the week before. I don’t know if it made sense to her, as my writing was mostly in anger of the situation I found myself in for that week at work.

My eating was largely major over eating an once did I binge the way I have been in the last few months. More than not, that is pre planned and happens at a weekend, when no one can hear my belly scream. I sometimes think of the image of that fat person ‘Gluttony’ in the film ‘Se7en’ where the killer forced that fat bloke to eat himself to death. Force feeding him until his stomach popped.

Maybe I the feeling I get when I over eat or binge is that very feeling the killer forced the fat bloke to feel, and then he popped. Maybe I need to pop too!