I want the word to disappear. I want my desire to use it, to actually embrace it to go away.

I want to stop thinking that if I do it, if I actually succeed this time, that something will change.

I want to stop wanting it. Stop wanting to look like the others. Stop wanting to have them stop judging me. Stop judging myself.

Let’s erase the word “Diet” from our vocabularies … and all the crap that comes with it.

“Big.” “Chunky.” “Plus-sized.” These are all words my loved ones would use to describe my appearance. Others would just call me “fat.” The medical community would use the word “obese.”

Strangers and acquaintances alike take it upon themselves to try to shame me, to make me understand the way that I’m destroying the world by insisting on being fat. There’s an entire industry (several, in fact) dedicated to trying to solve this problem for me. And I’m told every day, in many many ways, that if I just stopped being fat I would be better, happier.

Most days I manage to drown out the external and internal voices that try incessantly to let me know that I’m a failure, that every “extra” pound is one more mark against me. Most days I’m just louder than the voices, so they don’t make an impact on my day. Some days I’m not.

I want to have the courage to wear a bright red fitted dress without thinking about the muffin top or the love handles. I want to have the boldness to have my photo taken without dreading the split second where I see just how fat I am compared to the others. I want to stop seeing myself, and judging myself, through the eyes of others. I want to stop it all … now.

And I don’t mean that I want to lose weight (though I want that too). And I don’t mean that I want better clothes (though I always want new clothes). I just want to love who I am, in my current size and shape, without having to work at it.

I guess when I achieve that I’ll know I’m actually, finally, a grown up.

In the meanwhile, I’ve challenged myself to try to take more selfies … and I’ve been failing at that too. But I will get better. And I will keep trying. At some point I’ll stop dreading the photo … eventually.

I don’t want what I brought.

This happens frequently. I go to the trouble of packing a lunch, then when I eat it it’s boring or I just don’t want it. It’s the reality of being an emotional eater. I usually pick what I eat based on how I’m feeling. How I feel the night before, when I pack the lunch, is never how I feel when it’s lunchtime.

I’m just weird.

The good news is that, as a result, I never finish my lunch. The bad news is that by dinnertime I am starving.

I just can’t win.

And yet, I’m thinking that maybe (just maybe) cutting back on my comfort foods might not be a bad idea. Certainly, my doctor would agree.

Today I resisted the chocolate cake some “helpful” coworker brought to work. And I really really wanted that cake. It’s been a stressful few weeks.

I managed to make it through the day without succumbing to temptation. Let’s see how the rest of the week goes.

What’s your small victory?

At what point do you stop being friends with someone? What’s your line in the sand?

She asked me what my size is, casually, because she’s lost all this weight and has clothes she needs to get rid of now. The clothing is size -X2 (ie., two sizes smaller than I am now; note I am “X”).

I told her what my size is. This is something I wouldn’t tell my sister, wouldn’t answer to practically anyone. But I’ve been friends with her for more than a decade, good friends, “hold your hand while your parent dies” friends. And though it seems that we’ve hit a rough patch, this is info that I would automatically share.

“Oh, no,” she says, stating that the clothes won’t fit me. I tell her that I think that they’ll fit my sister-in-law.

Then she waves on my direction, “Too big,” she says. And, dumb me, I really think she’s talking about the dress I’m wearing. I even say so.

“No, dear, you’re too big.”

Wait. Did she just call me fat? Did she just say to me that I’m too fat?

Is that allowed?

I nod and say that I know. But what I really want to do is yell at her, scream that that’s not something you say to a friend, that I don’t call her on her shit and she doesn’t call me on mine.

My size, my fatness, apparently, is my line in the sand.

Are we still friends?

Photo courtesy of Yasmin Falahat via http://www.flickr.com/photos/31629983@N02/3429853778/. 

According to “5 Tips to Indulge in Fattening Food & Still Stay Slim” you need to keep a food diary to stay slim. You have all had to suffer through my ineffective attempts to diet, which have included a food diary. I think I just need to start a regular diary/journal (as an attempt at getting more done) and then move to a food diary.

Maybe that will work.
Then again, probably not.

* * *

NOTE:

• Photo courtesy of Rory MacLeod via http://www.flickr.com/photos/macrj/7678960512/.

I’ve spent the last three hours trying to uninstall and reinstall Adobe Acrobat Pro. It was working fine on Sunday. Today it tells me that there’s a problem with the registration and I should uninstall and reinstall. Which I am trying to do. Except it keeps telling me that I don’t have access to one of the files that needs to be updated.

WTF?

Unfortunately, this is a program I use regularly, so I can’t just ignore it. But I need to get some sleep.

And I want a donut.

I think I am going to go to sleep and leave the computer doing whatever it is it’s doing.

And, hopefully, someone will throw out the donuts before I wake up in the morning.

* * *

Photo courtesy of Robert Bahn at http://www.flickr.com/photos/34967771@N06/3949669230/. 

I forgot to have breakfast. Or rather, I stayed up really late, so I overslept. I didn’t have time to have breakfast. Though I did stop to get my coffee. You have to have priorities.

No more updates

I may have to stop pre-scheduling these updates, unless I can keep up with them. 

Because they’ve moved back into his house, where I’ve been living/housesitting for them, their diet is only one of the things I’m going to have to learn to deal with until I decide on my next step. The first thing they did was clean out the pantry and the refrigerator for items that they can’t eat. In their (weak) defense, they did check with me first. I told them to go ahead.

I’m hoping that everyone in the house being on a diet will make it easier for me. We shall see. I know that he’s already started to make noises about getting me to work out. Again, we shall see. 

Monday, April 22

9:00 am
I drove by McDonald’s for my morning coffee, as I do most mornings, and I added a sausage burrito. That’s my typical breakfast. I’ve figured out that that’s 10 Weight Watchers points for me, it’s fast and filling.

2:00 pm
Lunch was a roasted chicken salad with blue cheese dressing. Yes, I know that the choice of dressing adds to my daily intake by quite a bit, but I wanted the taste. For some reason, the salad just wasn’t as appetizing to me as it usually is. I think I just wasn’t in the mood for a salad today.

The rest of the Week

I forgot to update this blog post the rest of the week.

Until I saw the photos.

Why is it always such a shock to see myself, the real “outside” self, in photos? I’m always taken by surprise by my size, the shape of my face, the fact that I’m bigger than almost everyone else in the photos.

Who is the fat girl in the photo?

The ironic thing is that almost as soon as I step away from the photo, the dismay disappears. It only reappears at odd moments like when I have to weigh in at the doctor’s office, sit in an airline seat, try on new clothes and look at the size of what actually fits (instead of what I think is going to fit).

I know that I could not live with that level of self… disapproval, with the constant feeling of disappointment in myself. But I do wonder: if I did feel like that all the time, would I be more motivated to lose weight?

{{Sigh}}

Even if I did lose the weight, the photos are forever.

***** Written on my ipad. I promise to proof and edit it later (maybe). ******