I’m a fatty, and I say that not because I “hate” myself or because I’m looking for anyone to say ” oh stoooop it, no you’re not!” I’m a fatty because my scale, doctor and clothes say so. I’ve been a fatty all my life, just not this much of a fatty. I have no problem loosing weight, it’s maintaining it, keeping it off that gives me so much grief. This time last year, I was 40 pounds lighter than I am now, and I was STILL overweight. I thought being told that I am pre diabetic would be enough to scare the fat outta me, and it did for a while, but due to unforeseen events that have added much stress/depression it seems I have adopted a “Bring it on!!” attitude about the whole diabetes thing. So not good. You would think that someone as terrified of death and dying as I am would being doing everything in my power to keep myself as healthy as possible. I wonder if there is a subconscious part of me that has just given up??
A part of me that’s convinced that no matter what I do it isn’t gonna change anything so why bother? I don’t really know what my point is, I guess I’m just “thinking out loud”, I went to the doctor today and he told me he wants to do a sleep study to see if I have sleep apnea…which if I do, is most likely being caused by my current weight situation…
something else I’ve been thinking about as far as this whole weight issue goes, is that I’m all for self esteem, and believing you’re beautiful no matter what, and fuck anyone who thinks other wise, and yes big can be beautiful as long as it’s healthy, but I am not healthy, and I find myself wondering if the reason I have managed to stay unhealthy for so long is because I don’t care about myself as much as I should, (deep right?) perhaps in my case big is baneful?
