A Lost Cause

I've battled all my life with my weight, with varying degrees of success. I can remember euphoric times when I've been happier with my weight, although I've never managed to reach the society accepted size. I can also remember times when I have been lost in a pit of despair, feeling awful both physically and mentally because I'd failed once again and ballooned up to a ridiculous size.

This isn't going to be a "pity me" blog, because I know society has little patience with those that they perceive can't control themselves. I hate pity because I don't deserve it. I'm the only one that has allowed myself to get to this place, to this size and I'm the only one that can get me back to where I want to be.

Yes, dammit I love food!

Since I was a child, food has been presented to me as a souce of comfort, of solace, of pleasure and in a strange way of medicine and company! My mother was a strange woman in many ways, very old fashioned, who considered she had done her duty by my father by giving him a son and daughter. When, eight years later, I came along, she was resentful to say the least. Her plan of getting her independence once my brother became more self sufficient went out the window when I was born and she never tired of letting me know.

One of her favourite ways of dismissing me, was by giving me food. Whether I was happy, sad, ill, in need of company etc., her answer to this was "Here, have these sweets, have this cake, have some crisps.. take them into the other room". Oddly my older siblings became resentful in their turn because they saw me getting whatever I wanted. All I really wanted was mum, but of course this was replaced eventually with food. My relationship with her never really improved over the years and neither did my relationship with food.

Of course, I also hate food.

I hate the fact that I can't seem to control it. I don't consider myself particularly greedy, just the things that I do like are stupidly high in calories/fat/carbs (and taste!) I really do try to like healthy food but fruit bores the arse off me and while I enjoy veg and salad, they damn well better be cuddling something that tastes nice or I want to know why!

If I talk to anyone for more than a few moments about diets, or my relationship with food I get extremely stressed and end up angry and pathetic. I might well need counselling, but the counsellor had better put a suit of armour on!

Dieting is simply about eating less calories than you burn. Someone said this recently and this annoyed me slightly because, while true, if it really was that simple, there would be no overweight people in the world. While doctors will happily dish out all sorts of help for people who are bulimic or anorexic there is little help for the fat person who may or may not be just as screwed up.

Having said all the above, I'm going to attack this problem again. I'm going to enrol in a bloody horrible slimming club, pay for my weekly ritual humiliation session. I'm going to exercise as much as my leg allows and hopefully get to the point where I'm comfortable once again in public.

However one thing I won't do anymore. I won't apologise for being fat. I'm sick of being made to feel guilty about it, being made to feel somehow even less than second class. In our politically correct society, it is not acceptable to discriminate or abuse people because of race, sexuality, disability, gender, religion etc., however it apparently is still fine to discriminate and abuse someone if they are fat. I see it a lot and quite frankly sod you all if that's what you need to do to feel superior in the face of so many restrictions.

I'm not going to bore you with my progress, but this fat bird is fighting her demons once again. Wish me luck!