I’m fat. REALLY REALLY fat. People tell me that I’m not really, that I’m just curvy. I don’t believe a word of it and I find it somewhat irritating when they say I’m not fat. Do they think I’m stupid?? I’m told that perhaps I have a hint of body dysmorphia. Actually I do, but it’s a weird kind of body dysmorphia. I think I’m the fattest person in the world and then I look in the mirror and think “oh, that’s not too bad actually…” and then I see a photo of myself or I step onto the scales or I find that I can no longer fit into my already incredibly enormous clothes. And then I remember that I really am fat. I’m far, far heavier than any man I know, let alone the women.
I wasn’t always fat. I was a skinny child and a skinny teenager. My legs were like sticks. And then, at 18, I had a boyfriend who was a bodybuilder and ate an obscene amount…and I kept up with him. Since that day, I’ve struggled with my weight.
I was depressed at university because of my weight. I was reclusive and never left my house unless it was to go to lectures. I didn’t have very many friends.
After university I moved down to London and discovered a city where I could blend into the background and for a year I was pretty happy.
Everything went a little bit wrong – I lost my (pretty rubbish) job at the same time that my lease was up on my flat. I decided to leave London and I moved to Newcastle to go back to university. Once again, I became pretty reclusive. I barely went out and I found myself counting the days until I could move back to London, which I did in the summer of 2004.
In 2008 I lost a lot of weight – nearly 3 stones in 4 months – thanks to Weight Watchers and a new-found focus. I felt amazing and I felt like I may be entitled to the happy-ever-after like everyone else. I had a boyfriend for the first time since I was 18 (yes, I really had been single for 12 years) and everything seemed good. Then, something bad happened – a very good friend and colleague died suddenly and unexpectedly, my boyfriend dumped me via text message the night before her funeral and I sank into a very deep depression and so I turned to what I know – comfort eating.
In the last 3 years since Jo’s death, I’ve put back on every one of those 3 stones plus another stone and a bit. I’m officially disgustingly obese and I’m seriously unhappy with myself. I’m also incredibly cross with myself for letting this happen.
Anyway, on Saturday I was sitting in the pub with my lovely friend @shedlikesfood and we were discussing the fact that I keep falling off my diet and that I need some motivation. She suggested that I start blogging – be it thoughts, recipes, details of what I’ve eaten on a particular day, confessing on a weekly basis whether I’ve lost any weight…and even though I feel it’s incredibly self-indulgent, I’m at a point where I think it may be worth a shot.
I HAVE to lose weight. I don’t like myself very much at the moment and I’m now 33, I want to meet someone and eventually have babies and Live the Dream. Until I like myself, that’s not going to happen. =
Finally, here are a few pictures. I haven’t really let anyone take any photos of me for a good few years, so my fat photos are from almost 4 years ago. I think that I’m actually bigger now that I was then, so you’ll just have to make an educated guess about what I look like now (unless you’ve met me of course). The fat photos make me do a little sick in my mouth.
The thin photos are from when I lost all my weight before my friend died. The irony being that, at the time, I thought that I was still huge (not helped by the aforementioned boyfriend telling me I still needed to lose a lot of weight.) I can see now that I wasn’t at all and that I looked great. These photos are my target weight. (Apologies (a) for the dreadful sash on the dress and (b) for the ridiculous pose – I was drunk).
The last photo is a recent face shot. FAT FACE.
So. Here we go…