I was never a skinny girl. I was a size 9 in high school and my friends were a 3 and 5. I can remember our high school coach teasing me about my weight, saying that if I needed any extra pairs of jeans, he could bring me a pair of his but that they might be too small. It was always something though. Whether it was my red birthmark that covered my leg or my unpretty face, I always felt like I was sub-par at best. But my weight, well that’s always been a mental struggle. Did you know, for as long as I can remember, I have always pulled at my shirt? I stretch it and when I walk or sit, I always pull it down and away from my stomach. I do this every single day, even at home by myself or in front of my own husband and kids. It’s become habit I guess. And the only reason I think I have any type of muscle tone is that area, is because I constantly try to ‘suck it in’ no matter where I’m at or what I’m doing. I clearly know that it’s not making a difference but I continue to do it…hoping. And unless I’m really comfortable with you, I always try to eat a lot less at restaurants & gatherings. Famous words that come out of my mouth are “I’m not hungry” even though I think I’m starving. I don’t want to be ‘the fat girl’ who’s eating like a pig. I avoid photos like the plague. I get really down when I see that truett has taken photos of me without me knowing. I can’t stand to even look at me.
My husband has never, ever said anything about my weight and has never made me feel like it bothers him, in fact, he says the opposite and tells me he likes me just the way I am. That’s great and all but it’s crap. I mean really? I’m not blind. I can see myself in the mirror and even I’m disgusted. And yet as grossed out as I am, I do nothing. What’s wrong with me? I hate myself for not being disciplined enough. I hate myself for not being motivated by my friends and even my own son. I hate myself for being fat. And the irony in it all, is that I don’t see others the way I see myself. I truly don’t. If you’re a big person, I honestly never give it any thought. I’ve always been great at seeing what’s inside. One of my very few gifts I guess. Why can’t I do that with myself?
I’m ashamed of myself. I’m ashamed of my body but more importantly, ashamed of how I see myself. I get so mad at me……
And the worst part, is when I see everyone around me losing weight and doing so good, it takes everything in me to smile and be happy for them. Not because I’m jealous or because I’m not proud of them but because it makes me feel even more like a failure. I don’t understand why I can’t force myself to exercise. I can’t understand why it’s so hard to get that mentality of making myself better. It frustrates me to no end to constantly think about my body, the scale, the fat rolls, the never ending disgust of trying on clothes. I think some women are born successful with their talents, minds, face, & body, but me, well…… I’m beginning to think I’m just meant to be fat and I’m praying heavily for a bright light at the end of this very dark tunnel.
For the people who think they know me, but don’t.