This bitter earth what fruit it bears. What good is love, that no one shares
And if my life is like the dust, that hides the glow of a rose. What good am I
Heaven only knows. This bitter earth, can it be so cold? Today you're young too soon you're old. But while a voice within me cries, I'm sure someone may answer my call
and this bitter earth may not be so bitter after all. -This Bitter Earth, Dinah Washington
The first question: Why do you want to lose weight and what do you honestly believe to be your chances of success this time?
It took me a few days to come up with an answer for this one, and for whatever reason it came to me in the middle of the night. Here is what I came up with: The Mental, The Physical and The Spiritual.
Being fat fucks with your head. It is one great big mind fuck. I know that my weight keeps me down. It keeps me low. It depresses me. All this extra weight keeps me from reaching my potential. When people look at me they see someone who has given up and they judge me. It might not be fair but it’s true. And frankly, they might be right. Sometimes I have thought, well… this is just me. There are tall people and short people. Black and White people. Why not fat and thin? We’re all fine, we just different. Yeah that’s bullshit. That is an excuse to allow myself to do nothing. That’s the fat talking. It’s comfortable hanging around my middle, my top and my bottom. I’ve been wearing a suit made of fat and depression for years. It’s time for a new suit. I always say that being mediocre is one of my biggest fears. Mediocrity is death. Right now? I’m not even mediocre. I far am less than what and who I should be. I’d like not to use food as crutch. I’d like to NOT self medicate with food. My thinking is, that if I can get a handle on this? Then I can get a handle on anything. Only I know how being this heavy as affected me. Obviously it effects the way that I look, which effects the way people see and view me, which in turn effects the way that I see and feel about myself. See? Mental.
Being fat fucks with your body. I know I’m getting older, and that with age comes some wear and tear. I get it. However, what I would like? What would be awesome? Is to not feel as though I’m having a heart attack going up the stairs. I’d like to wear cute fun shoes again. Right now I am living in sensible shoe purgatory. Not cute. I’d like my energy level to go up a few notches. Sweet lord in heaven am I sick and tired of shopping either at the fat girl store, or the fat girl section. I always hate the clothes there. Ugly Grandma crap. I love fashion. I read WWD. I live for Vogue and fashion week. And what can I get from that world? Nada. Bupkis. Oh wait no, I can get a nice scarf or kicky little bag. Great. I want to feel sexy, desirable and attractive. I would like to no longer have to wedge my ass into a theater chair. I will no longer be the person other people wish wouldn’t sit next to them on the plane, train or automobile. Yeah, I’m that person. I am right up there with screaming babies. You might love babies, but you don’t want to be stuck next to one on the LAX-JFK flight. I had a conversation with a friend of mine, someone who is also struggling with weight. We talked about the first seat extender experience. How just plain mortifying it was, to have to ask the flight attendant for one. I swiped mine off the plane when we landed. (Sorry, Jet Blue). At that moment, I should have dedicated myself to, well, myself! That should have been the wake up call and it wasn’t. See? Physical.
Being fat messes with your spirit. Now this is hard, because I’m not religious and I hate people who are religious and like to shove it in your face. I had an aunt like that, she was not one of my faves. I am a woman who does believe in God or a Higher Power (that sounds so cheesy doesn’t it? Higher Power.) I also believe that my relationship, with my God, is personal. However, the God I believe in, put me on this earth to do well. Not to be miserable. No, I haven’t figured out why so many people who are good and kind people are suffering and are seemingly living a tortured life. But that’s not for me to figure out. I’m here to make my way, while being kind and just to others. God doesn’t want this for me. He doesn’t want me to carry all this weight and the sadness that comes with it. Why doesn’t he just fix it then? Well, while that’s a good question, (looking around hoping for the answer) I don’t have answer (Still looking around, Lord) I do think that it is up to me to figure out. And perhaps once I do, get my weight under control, other things will become clearer. I don’t know kids, I’m figuring this out as I go along. Um you know, spiritual.
What’s different this time? I’m not sure yet exactly. I just feel as thought I am on an upswing. This needs to be it. I am promising myself that I am going to make this my strongest effort yet.