Secrets From A Fat.. SO?!

The Cost of Being Fat

Everything has value even the things Discover declares priceless. Because all things have worth. Nothing is priceless. And whither you label something priceless or worthless, what you label has value within itself.

So with that logic, what is the price of being fat? What does it cost and what is the value of fat? Like a bad house in a good neighborhood, does it’s equity decrease?  When I sit here and think about my life, the cost of being fat has run me up more than my food bill. Being fat has cost me my health, my happiness and my wallet. I have sacrificed memories and experiences all because of my weight. I’d say that’s a pretty high bill that I’ve accumulated. And while I wouldn’t necessarily say it has decreased my value, it seems to have decreased the value of my life. But how? I’ve always prided myself to be good with money but… how did I get into such a debt of fat?

To simply admit that eating is something out of my power to control is hard, to say the least. Because I’m the sort of person who is used to expecting the unexpected. For instance, there are many aspects of my life where I’ve just grown accustomed to not having control over. I can’t predict the weather, but I can bring my jacket incase it rains. I can’t foresee transit not running on schedule, but I can plan ahead to leave the house earlier than I have to so I am not late for work. I can’t control when I will get sick but I can take care of my body before and during a cold. I can take tons of cold medicine and get lots of rest so I will be healthy. I can’t control other people’s moods, but I can control them from affecting my day.

And admitting that I don’t have as much control over something as simple as what food I put in my body, leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth. Because I like to think that I am strong and, in many ways I am. I am strong enough to know that I am resilient to bounce back from all the mistakes I make. It’s not making mistakes that I’m afraid of because I know I am good at learning from those. It’s just hard for me to admit that I’m helpless. It’s hard to admit that I am helpless over resisting the temptation of food.

Because when I want to eat something, I either rationalize said food or I’ll just say, “hell with it” and eat it anyway. There is no middle ground. I can go a few days without a single soda and finally say “Oh, just one won’t hurt.” Then I’ll be thrown back into the same repeative pattern. I realize that half the battle is just recognizing this behavior, but it doesn’t make me feel much better. Because I pride myself for trying to be happy with my body and who I am, and most of the time I am. But being comfortable with who I am is still a new process for me.

And part of being comfortable with the new me is admitting I have flaws and tendencies that are not… pretty. A part of accepting who I am is admitting that I am helpless over my addiction with food. And a part of my addiction to food is just admitting to bad and reoccurring habits so I can take responsibility for my actions.

So please, without judgement, I admit to the following…

  • I admit to have spent more than $200 for only two weeks worth of groceries.
  • I admit to drinking a twelve pack of soda within two days.
  • I admit to avoiding formal events IE: Prom, dances, graduations, because I was embarrassed about literally having nothing formal to wear and being too embarrassed to shop for it.
  • I admit to not wearing the following clothing: shorts, dresses, bathing suits, skirts and any shirts with less than a three-quarter sleeve cut because I was self-conscious about my body.
  • If you are a woman and are, or have, ever been skinner than me, I have envied you.
  • If you are a woman and are, or have, been prettier than me, I have envied you. 
  • I admit to comparing myself to every girl I see.
  • I admit to avoiding people and letting people get too close because of being fat.
  • I admit to laying on my bed to try to zip up jeans that don’t fit, and cried over it.
  • I admit that every time my pants went up a size, to be in denial and blame the pant maker.
  • I admit to blaming a store for not being able to find anything in my size or not having a good selection.
  • I admit to eating food in my mother’s fridge simply because I knew it would go to waste if I didn’t eat it.
  • I admit to binge eating food to cover emotions I didn’t want to feel.
  • I admit to glaring with hatred every time has ordered water after I have ordered a large coke.
  • I admit to coming close to hating a person each time I see someone eating just a salad for a meal.
  • I admit to being jealous of every weight loss success story I hear. And like catching the bouquet at a wedding, I hope it will happen to me next.
  • I admit to eating after I’m full, just to clean my plate.
  • I admit to kissing men, just to feel attractive.
  • I’ve made the same New Years Resolution since I was fifteen. To lose weight.
  • I admit to being paranoid, wondering if people have gossiped about my weight.
  • I admit to taking diet pills as a teen because I thought they would be the ‘cure all’ magic.
  • I admit to trying to find my best angle in the mirror to hide body flaws like my chin, stomach and butt.
  • I admit to standing next to bigger people than me so I will seem skinnier.
  • I admit to destroying all photos of myself I deemed unflattering.
  • I admit to avoiding my photograph being taken because I was ashamed of my apperance.
  • I admit to using food simply as an activity.
  • I admit to spending hours at work just thinking about food. About what I was going to eat next, for dinner that day and brain storm ideas for meals for the week.

I’m almost positive I’m leaving things out, and I’ll make sure to add them as I go. I know just admitting to these tendacies won’t make them go away. Instead, I promise instead of trying to suppress these addictions that I will feel them, as much as they make my skin crawl, and feel them. I promise to build a support network so that when I am feeling jealous or craving a trigger food I will tell someone. Because I realize, I can’t do this on my own anymore. And the only way to get healthier is by letting myself get sick. The only way I can get stronger is by letting myself be weak. It’s a logic that feels a little queer to me but, I promise to try.


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