Thursday morning. I was on a roll. I had this all figured out. I should be about 180 pounds by now (given that this little sojourn in the two-oh-somethings started at the beginning of December for goodness sake!), but instead I’m going to post my first gain in 10 months when I weigh and measure tomorrow. Why? Damn it, why??? What broke? What isn’t where it needs to be??? Please, please, someone give me the answer because I’m searching – constantly – and I just can’t find it and I can’t do this all over again. Can’t gain 60 pounds back and then lose it again. I know myself too well. If this weight goes back on, I don’t have it in me to get it off again. This is too hard. I’ve gotten at least halfway through with what I need to do, and to fail now would just crush whatever spark inside me still believes that I can achieve this.
Now, I know there are those out there in Readerland who are saying, “Now, Denise, just be patient with yourself,” or, “There’s more to life than just your weight, so don’t say you have to do this like you won’t have a life if you don’t.” For those people, I can only suggest that you might want to come back in a few months because you’re not going to enjoy my writing until this thing is over. No one who hasn’t been morbidly obese will understand what I’m about to say, but this really is a fight for my life. Not just because of my diabetes, but because, if I get back to 262 and stay there, I will have nothing left. No self respect (if I had that, I’d never let the weight go back on). No chance of avoiding diabetic complications (my feet already tingle every night as it is). No friends (tough to have friends when you don’t leave the house, and you wouldn’t leave the house either if you were the fattest person in the entire city. Seriously, San Diego is like America’s Healthiest City of some such thing, and there are like NO fat people here…especially no fat women.) Perhaps worst yet, in terms of my long term happiness, no chance of ever finding true love and settling down to create the family that I so want.
OK, now I know that there’s a whole group of you that just said, “Oh, no, Denise…that’s not true. You can find love while you’re fat because I did.” I understand that it’s theoretically possible to find love at 262 pounds and a size 26, but it’s not going to happen here, for me. For one thing, as I mentioned, in America’s Healthiest City there is a cornucopia of perfect women out there. Perfect faces, perfect bodies, perfectly clothed, driving perfect cars. Seriously. Very scary. Anyway, there are those guys that say they’re interested in fat girls, but most are only interested when there’s no one around and only interested in one thing, if you get my drift. If you take them away, the next group available is the “chubby chasers” – those men who only like fat girls. I know this is a terrible thing to say, but I don’t want one of them. If I find one of them and do somehow end up getting the self respect to get this lovely weight off again, they’ll be gone in a flash because they’re only interested in fat girls. (I’ve actually experienced that first hand!) Finally, there are – at most – 20 guys in the entire county (several million people) who are normal but would consider dating a fat girl. I think I’ve dated like five of them and have had girl friends who’ve dated five others, so that leaves like 10 guys out of three million for me. Not going to happen.
Well, hasn’t this been an uplifting entry? I’m so glad I lost the password to my Site Monitor account so that I can’t see what all of this is doing to my readership. Wait, I’m not supposed to be doing this with one eye on the number of hits I’m getting (which is why I made my Site Meter numbers invisible on the site)…this is supposed to be about me. This is how I feel, so it’s “valid” and, if that leaves me with two readers, then so be it.
How did I get here? How did it all fall apart? I just don’t understand. Please, someone – ANYONE – help me understand. If I could just wrap some logic around what’s happening to me, perhaps it wouldn’t be so hard. Instead, I just sit here, astounded, as I eat and eat and eat and am never full enough, and don’t exercise. Why? Why, why, why, why, why??? I had this. I was there. Well, not “there”, but on the path to there. It’s not fair. Dear God, I know you’re there, why won’t you help me???
I’m in a fight for my very life here, people, and I know it’s not pretty, but it’s real. Hey, perhaps I’ll get a boost in my readership from the people who like to watch reality TV! There’s something to look forward to.