What fat person HASN'T heard this before? Jeez, I think even people who are a whole 1kg overweight and looking to lose that tiny 1kg get this line the moment they mention their plans for weightloss. I mean, apart from the million-and-one diets that people seem to think is THE key to weightloss.
So why doesn't it work?
Well... because it's a bit more complicated than that. I'm not fat just because I never realised that if I just ate healthier meals and exercised more then I could keep the weight off... fat people are complete idiots and most of us know that healthy meals and quality exercise is better for us, and our waistlines, than lazing around watching Cheers re-runs and eating nachos.
One thing I've found particularly difficult with this "eat well and exercise," stuff is that exercising is bloody uncomfortable and difficult when you're fat. I think it's easier for a smaller person, because even if they're unfit, their body isn't struggling with excess weight to drag around as well. I think skinny people forget that whilst their skinny bodies can manage an uphill run, mine finds it a lot more difficult because I've got a lot more weight to lug around. It's like them running uphill with a bag full of stones. It just makes it tougher.
I also find that when you're fat, it's just more uncomfortable to exercise. Chaffing is a bitch, and it's one that seems to show up when you have more skin to rub against each other. Too much sweating and movement = skin rubbing off my inner thighs and causing me pain. That's what exercise can do to a fat person. My bum also likes to swallow bike seats - so while my LEGS can manage to pedal for longer than I actually do pedal for, I have to give up early because my bum is just ACHING like hell!
Also, you know when your boobs bounce around and it hurts? Well, apart from the fact that this fat girl has big boobs that aren't easily contained by sports bras, I also have other bits that like to bounce around when I exercise. My stomach, for example. The excess fat on there, combined with the loose skin overhang as a result of my caesarean/pregnancy, bounces around too... and it's like a double-winding when I move too quick. My arms also wobble and so do my thighs and bum. If I jump, they jump too... and pull me back to the earth so heavily, it hurts. It's like a need sports bras for all those extra flabby body parts... only they don't exist.
So, how about swimming you say? That's low impact. Sure. It is. It also requires a swimsuit - something which a lot of fat people have difficulty coming to terms with. It's bad enough that, as a fat person, being in public means that sometimes I'm going to be screamed at by a bunch of idiots driving past in their cars, calling out some nasty name simply because of my size... why the hell would I want to then appear in public in unforgiving skin-tight lyrca? You also have to manage to find a bathing suit to FIT you... and while I know they offer lots of them in larger sizes, my boobs also need to be catered to... and rarely can I find anything that will cover them properly.
And the fact is, some people just LIKE exercise. Some people love running around slapping balls with their racket, or swimming laps in a pool, or going for a run at 5am each day. For some people, that's the idea of a relaxing time. I'm not one of those people. I hate the sun, for a start. I cannot STAND the heat. This probably has something to do with the fact I have dark hair that attracts the sun, the fact my eyes are quite sensitive to bright lights, and the fact that I sweat a lot.
I don't like pain either... so having my breasts/belly/bum/thighs/arms slam down heavily with each step I take while I job is not something I really want to do willingly. Without this weight pulling me down like that, I think I could suck up the burning pain you get when you actually use your muscles... that is positive pain, and I can deal with that... but the pain that comes with simply being fat and moving... yeah, it hurts.
Like most fat people, I also don't like having people stare at me and laugh at me and tease me. Going for a run while all my bits flap and wobble... that's just begging them to snigger. I know what skinny people would tell me: "Don't worry what others think!" but sorry, I do. Easier said than done. My psych has given me some help when it comes to trying to block out others and what they may think of me... but while it has HELPED me with my anxiety, it hasn't cured it. Drugs help too, but they lessen my fears, not completely rid me of them.
As for healthy eating... well, yeah, that's not too hard. I mean, it IS hard when you have to feed the rest of your family and they whinge and complain and throw half their dinner away if it's not to their liking (I can force my daughter to eat her veges - but I can't force my adult partner to do so *sigh*). Still, I am not so hopeless that I cannot manage to simply serve myself something healthier and give my partner something more to his liking...
The thing is though, I NEVER FEEL FULL. So I can eat healthily all I want - I just eat MORE of it than I should. It doesn't matter if it's food that's good for you... if you eat too much of anything, it's going to add to your weight. So while I might eat some fruit - I'll overboard and eats LOTS of it. While I enjoy a good salad sandwich just as much as the next person, I need more than 1 to satisfy my hunger. Even 2, and I'm still hungry... but I manage to stop it there... at least for an hour, at which point I hunt down something else to eat...
And then there's emotional eating. "Oh, I'm sad... I'll go eat... even though it'll just make me sadder long-term..." etc etc. It just happens. It doesn't have to be rational. I know it's stupid to eat emotionally - but when you've reached that point, stupidity wins. You're too emotional to tell yourself to stop - or even if you do manage to tell yourself not to do it, the overwhelming urge to binge is more powerful than your pitiful cries of, "No, this will just make it worse."
And then what happens when you're busting your arse, exercising every single day, aching as a result, stopping yourself from eating as much as your body is telling you to (so you're hungry all day and think about food all day and hardly think of anything else), putting up with the sweating and sun and bouncing flab and risking public ridicule... and then nothing happens with your weight?! You're working so much... doing things you hate... and you're not losing a damn thing! Who would go through something you personally feel is torturous when you're not seeing any sort of payoff for your efforts?
Don't get me wrong - I'm going to exercise post-op. I'm going to eat well post-op too. It's just that the sleeve is going to help me with that. The sleeve will mean that when I exercise, there WILL be a payoff. The sleeve will also mean that as time goes on, I can exercise more often, not be ridiculed, be okay to get into a swimsuit, etc. It will mean that I can eat healthily yet not manage to eat TOO MUCH healthy food, because there simply won't be enough room to put anymore in.
And, of course, it'll help with how I feel about myself. I hate being fat. That's the crux of my problems - my weight. Get rid of the weight, and I can focus on whatever issues are left. Then I can focus on fixing all other aspects of my life, and getting better.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
2nd Post of the Day - More "How I Became Fat."
I signed off really quickly from my first post... and didn't get into much detail about some of the issues that I know plague me even now.
So, let's go back to my relationship with my daughter's father...
I was 18 when I met him. I met him online. Well, actually, I think I was more like 17 when I first started talking to him... turned 18 when I met him face-to-face though. He ended moving interstate and getting a job here. 4 months into our relationship... I was pregnant.
Me at 18, him at 19 and being together only 5 months when we found out... well, it's not the greatest of foundations for a long-lasting relationship, but I was sure as hell going to give it a go.
After I had my daughter and put on the 30kg I mentioned in my first post, our relationship got worse and worse. I didn't put it down to my weight though... there were heaps of reasons things could have been shit. I mean, we were young, and poor, and were parents, and he worked double shifts all the time which meant I didn't get to spend much time with him.
Anyway, as I said... we split up and he said that thing I mentioned in my first post here.
Well, let's continue on from there...
He got a gf. Immediately. Well, pretty much. I started a relationship with DP soon afterwards, so how soon it all happened wasn't too much of a concern... but more the fact that it happened with a girl he was working with. Who moved in the moment I moved out. Did he cheat on me with her?
I was open and honest about the fact I was seeing someone with him, figuring it'd make things easier for everyone if I didn't tell fibs and hide it. He obviously didn't want to show me a similar respect though, because the way I first heard about it was when my daughter (then 3) came home telling me that her Dad slept in this other girls bed...
I asked him about it, but he denied it... and another time I went over to pick up DD, I was looking for something I had left there. He said he didn't have it, but I had a look anyway... and in his bedroom was a photo album open on the bed... photos of this girl in her underwear. I kept wondering... did he leave this there on purpose? She was a skinny blonde... I was fat. I admit that I did feel a little shocked as all the time we were together, never once did he ever consider taking photos of us... and then it hit me: probably because he didn't WANT photos of someone who looked like me.
Well, he became a slack father and hardly saw our daughter, so one day, I cracked the shits and told him he had to see her more, that she was crying about it all, and he needed to step up and be a good father. In response to this, I recieved a large number of text messages... though strangely (or not so strangely, really), they didn't seem to be written the same way his messages usually were. It was just written differently and so I've assumed that it was his new gf who wrote it.
No matter who wrote it (maybe he dictated and she typed?), it was nasty. Full of comments about how disgustingly obese I am, how nobody ever wanted me, how it was a suprise I ever had the chance to get pregnant in the first place, and how I should go sit on the couch and shovel in more donuts.
Those messages really hurt... but eventually... I got over it. As much as you can, anyway.
Well, last year, I went interstate and visited the ex's family. The ex now lives overseas and never sees, let alone calls, his daughter, but his family (particularly his sister) still keeps in contact and so we went and saw them. It was great and I got to cuddle a cute baby... awwww...
Anyway, while I was there, I spent some time staying with the ex's mother. She's had that house for most of my ex's life, so he grew up there. It's also where he stayed before he moved overseas (which happened at the end of 2008).
DD was playing in that room when we were staying there (it was the bedroom the ex had as a kid), and dropped a ball that rolled under the bed. I went to get it out... and out came a diary. As in, a journal. I knew he kept these sorts of things... he used to write in them when we were together, though took them everywhere with him so that there was no chance of me ever seeing what was written in them.
Now I know why.
I opened it. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. Who, in all honesty, wouldn't take a peek?
The first page was started when I was pregnant with our daughter. I was half way through the pregnancy when he wrote it... and apparently, he hated me even back then. He talks about how he doesn't like me, how I'm a spoilt brat... and how UGLY I am. Oh - and fat.
That shook me. I mean, I was with DP when I read this, but I still didn't know that the ex hated me for so long. Going by this, he hated me for the absolute majority of our relationship.
The entries continue up until DD was 3 months of age. He says some really horrible things in there about how he doesn't even love her - how he has to pretend he does, tells people, "Oh yeah, she's doing this now and it's cute," etc but that he doesn't even mean it. He even makes fun of the fact that he's so good at pretending to be the doting father. That bit made me sick. What kind of dickhead jokes about that sort of thing? That's made me determined to not let him in my daughter's life again. He can call her, he can send presents and letters... but I am not having a fuckwit like that flit in and out of her life and make things worse for her. That was a horrible thing to read.
Apart from that though, he talked about how fat I was. How disgusting I had become. How one night, I cried because he had not even been wanting to hug me, and I was feeling unloved and unwanted (which I obviously had good reason to feel!)... and so he felt guilty and had sex with me. He then goes on to talk about how revolting it was, and how he wasn't sure how his body even allowed him to, because he was so turned off by me.
Well, that was a bit of a kick in the guts really, because even if it's from an ex you're glad to be rid of, nobody wants to read that kind of thing about themselves. I do wonder if he left it there on purpose though...? He probably didn't. He's not that clever.
Aside from the ex, I did mention that I lost a bunch of weight starving myself after our break-up. That just confirmed to me, that weight is SO IMPORTANT in regards to how people treat you.
The first night I broke up with my ex, I went out with some friends. Clubbing, as you do. People, who were friends with my friends, were polite to me, but that's about it. I was otherwise ignored. I continued to go out with them as time went on and the weight dropped off... and at 27kg lighter, people were talking to me, cracking on to me, treating me with respect. Girls and guys - it didn't matter - all of a sudden I was worth speaking to.
Even just people in shops treated me differently - I got greeted with smiles and offers of help, rather than being ignored when I entered a shop. I had people offering to help me with things even if I didn't need it (just random strangers), whereas before, even if I really needed help, nobody would have offered. It was just so very different, and I really blame this period in my life for my anxiety issues... because before, I could tell myself that looks didn't matter THAT much... but now... well, now I had evidence that looks seem to matter above all else.
So how did I put that weight back on? Well, when you starve yourself it rarely stays off long-term... but mine did stay off for a while. Then all of a sudden, I kept on gaining. No idea why... my diet didn't change. Turns out that it was my medication for my anxiety/depression... so now I'm on a different one, which doesn't have me gaining like crazy but doesn't help all that much either.
There you have it - how I got fat.
So, let's go back to my relationship with my daughter's father...
I was 18 when I met him. I met him online. Well, actually, I think I was more like 17 when I first started talking to him... turned 18 when I met him face-to-face though. He ended moving interstate and getting a job here. 4 months into our relationship... I was pregnant.
Me at 18, him at 19 and being together only 5 months when we found out... well, it's not the greatest of foundations for a long-lasting relationship, but I was sure as hell going to give it a go.
After I had my daughter and put on the 30kg I mentioned in my first post, our relationship got worse and worse. I didn't put it down to my weight though... there were heaps of reasons things could have been shit. I mean, we were young, and poor, and were parents, and he worked double shifts all the time which meant I didn't get to spend much time with him.
Anyway, as I said... we split up and he said that thing I mentioned in my first post here.
Well, let's continue on from there...
He got a gf. Immediately. Well, pretty much. I started a relationship with DP soon afterwards, so how soon it all happened wasn't too much of a concern... but more the fact that it happened with a girl he was working with. Who moved in the moment I moved out. Did he cheat on me with her?
I was open and honest about the fact I was seeing someone with him, figuring it'd make things easier for everyone if I didn't tell fibs and hide it. He obviously didn't want to show me a similar respect though, because the way I first heard about it was when my daughter (then 3) came home telling me that her Dad slept in this other girls bed...
I asked him about it, but he denied it... and another time I went over to pick up DD, I was looking for something I had left there. He said he didn't have it, but I had a look anyway... and in his bedroom was a photo album open on the bed... photos of this girl in her underwear. I kept wondering... did he leave this there on purpose? She was a skinny blonde... I was fat. I admit that I did feel a little shocked as all the time we were together, never once did he ever consider taking photos of us... and then it hit me: probably because he didn't WANT photos of someone who looked like me.
Well, he became a slack father and hardly saw our daughter, so one day, I cracked the shits and told him he had to see her more, that she was crying about it all, and he needed to step up and be a good father. In response to this, I recieved a large number of text messages... though strangely (or not so strangely, really), they didn't seem to be written the same way his messages usually were. It was just written differently and so I've assumed that it was his new gf who wrote it.
No matter who wrote it (maybe he dictated and she typed?), it was nasty. Full of comments about how disgustingly obese I am, how nobody ever wanted me, how it was a suprise I ever had the chance to get pregnant in the first place, and how I should go sit on the couch and shovel in more donuts.
Those messages really hurt... but eventually... I got over it. As much as you can, anyway.
Well, last year, I went interstate and visited the ex's family. The ex now lives overseas and never sees, let alone calls, his daughter, but his family (particularly his sister) still keeps in contact and so we went and saw them. It was great and I got to cuddle a cute baby... awwww...
Anyway, while I was there, I spent some time staying with the ex's mother. She's had that house for most of my ex's life, so he grew up there. It's also where he stayed before he moved overseas (which happened at the end of 2008).
DD was playing in that room when we were staying there (it was the bedroom the ex had as a kid), and dropped a ball that rolled under the bed. I went to get it out... and out came a diary. As in, a journal. I knew he kept these sorts of things... he used to write in them when we were together, though took them everywhere with him so that there was no chance of me ever seeing what was written in them.
Now I know why.
I opened it. Maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. Who, in all honesty, wouldn't take a peek?
The first page was started when I was pregnant with our daughter. I was half way through the pregnancy when he wrote it... and apparently, he hated me even back then. He talks about how he doesn't like me, how I'm a spoilt brat... and how UGLY I am. Oh - and fat.
That shook me. I mean, I was with DP when I read this, but I still didn't know that the ex hated me for so long. Going by this, he hated me for the absolute majority of our relationship.
The entries continue up until DD was 3 months of age. He says some really horrible things in there about how he doesn't even love her - how he has to pretend he does, tells people, "Oh yeah, she's doing this now and it's cute," etc but that he doesn't even mean it. He even makes fun of the fact that he's so good at pretending to be the doting father. That bit made me sick. What kind of dickhead jokes about that sort of thing? That's made me determined to not let him in my daughter's life again. He can call her, he can send presents and letters... but I am not having a fuckwit like that flit in and out of her life and make things worse for her. That was a horrible thing to read.
Apart from that though, he talked about how fat I was. How disgusting I had become. How one night, I cried because he had not even been wanting to hug me, and I was feeling unloved and unwanted (which I obviously had good reason to feel!)... and so he felt guilty and had sex with me. He then goes on to talk about how revolting it was, and how he wasn't sure how his body even allowed him to, because he was so turned off by me.
Well, that was a bit of a kick in the guts really, because even if it's from an ex you're glad to be rid of, nobody wants to read that kind of thing about themselves. I do wonder if he left it there on purpose though...? He probably didn't. He's not that clever.
Aside from the ex, I did mention that I lost a bunch of weight starving myself after our break-up. That just confirmed to me, that weight is SO IMPORTANT in regards to how people treat you.
The first night I broke up with my ex, I went out with some friends. Clubbing, as you do. People, who were friends with my friends, were polite to me, but that's about it. I was otherwise ignored. I continued to go out with them as time went on and the weight dropped off... and at 27kg lighter, people were talking to me, cracking on to me, treating me with respect. Girls and guys - it didn't matter - all of a sudden I was worth speaking to.
Even just people in shops treated me differently - I got greeted with smiles and offers of help, rather than being ignored when I entered a shop. I had people offering to help me with things even if I didn't need it (just random strangers), whereas before, even if I really needed help, nobody would have offered. It was just so very different, and I really blame this period in my life for my anxiety issues... because before, I could tell myself that looks didn't matter THAT much... but now... well, now I had evidence that looks seem to matter above all else.
So how did I put that weight back on? Well, when you starve yourself it rarely stays off long-term... but mine did stay off for a while. Then all of a sudden, I kept on gaining. No idea why... my diet didn't change. Turns out that it was my medication for my anxiety/depression... so now I'm on a different one, which doesn't have me gaining like crazy but doesn't help all that much either.
There you have it - how I got fat.
Being Fat = Not Deserving of Love... WTF?!
I wasn't sure what I would write about here today... I had a few ideas, and was having trouble choosing... and then I came across this:
"I'm not sure what will happen, but there is something wrong with a man (or woman) loving someone who is unhealthily over or underweight. This isn't directed at you as I don't know what size/weight you are. But if you have a woman who is say 130kgs and her partner is OK with that, then there is something wrong with him. Nothing wrong with loving a 'big' girl, but when you hit morbid obesity and your health is affected, no man should be attracted by that. And the same if a woman has severe anorexia. There is a weight range at which people should find other people attractive, when it's beyond that, it's a little disturbing IMHO."
It was in response to something I'd written about relationships changing after one partner loses a lot of weight. I mean, from things I've heard and read about, some people do end up with relationship problems as a result... more often than not a result of the one who didn't lose the weight getting jealous of the attention the one who DID lose weight is now getting by the opposite sex.
A lot of people responded with their various tales... but yeah, the above... just wow.
I guess that not only should I tell DP he's disturbed for putting up with how disgustingly huge I am, but that he should leave me, because really, fat people like me shouldn't be in relationships. Except, perhaps if BOTH parties are the same size? Does that make it okay? Or are fatties not allowed to love other fatties as well?
While I understand that physical attraction to your partner IS important, surely there needs to be more than just thinking, "Yeah, she's hot," to get a man to want to be in a relationship with someone... right? What about the type of person they are? How they make you laugh? How they seem to understand what you're talking about even though others would be confused as hell? How about the fact that you're able to have an intelligent conversation with them, rather than just talking about nothing but TV shows or fashion or gossiping about people you know? Superficial conversations are fine, but I know that when I'M in a relationship, I need more than that.
And what about UGLY people? You know... people that are a "good weight," but don't really have the prettiest noggin. Do you have to have something wrong with you to want to be with someone who has a face for radio? Or is that okay, because ugliness has nothing to do with health?
Look, I get that people should want for their partner to be healthy - but I think that even those in a relationship with an obese person feel that way. Except for those extreme feeders who like nothing more than to watch their loved one get fatter by the minute, stuffing cakes and scones and fried donuts into their mouths... but I'd say those are few and far between.
The thing is though health and weight don't necessarily have anything to do with each other. I mean, I'm unhealthy. I know it. I'm also fat. I could be skinny and unhealthy too though... how many of us know some continously skinny person who lives of junk food... they just never put weight on? Or skinny people who binge drink? Skinny people who do drugs? Skinny people who smoke? Skinny people who starve themselves to remain the size they are? It's clear to me, that just because you're considered a healthy weight, doesn't mean that you're healthy... so how can someone suggest, with a straight face, that fat people are only loved by deranged people?
Really... what kind of crazy person thinks this? I mean, there's obviously one... she's wrote that after all... I suppose she and her partner are perfect weights, who don't have an unhealthy bone in their bodies. Yeah... I'm SURE that's the case... *roll eyes*
Some people don't think that there's such a thing as "fat hate," but just reading the above goes to show that at least 1 idiot out there is spreading the hate around.
So let's take a look at some of the "Rules Fat People Need to Obey,"...
*Fat People must never wear anything that reveals any part of their body that may be considered offensive. This means that swimwear must be head-to-toe... and not skin-tight... despite the fact that when you go into the water, you clothes stick to you... so perhaps you should just forget swimming altogether, fatty, even though it might help you lose weight, and is usually good exercise for those with weight problems, since it takes the pressure off your joint... but hey, you're fat and therefore unsightly... so save the eyes of the poor innocent skinny folk, and stay home.
*Fat People must not eat anything unhealthy. Ever. It doesn't matter if it's your birthday - no cake for you, lard-arse! If a skinny person sees you at the local food court having a cheeseburger, then they are safe to make the assumption that all you ever eat is take-away, and as such, tsk-tsk you, perhaps even say something to your face about your choice of meal (despite the fact that they're eating the same damn thing, and that the calories and fat content in that burger remain the same regardless of how fat you are), and probably go whinge to their friends about it (even those online - nothing beats a "OMG, this fat chick is eating maccas at the shops - PUT IT DOWN FATTY AND GET A SALAD!" FB update!). Even some of the healthier options are potentially fattening though - wholegrain pasta is STILL pasta. Lite cheese is STILL cheese. Your lean sausages still contain SOME fat. Probably better to eat nothing more than lettuce each day... mmmm... deliciously boring lettuce...
*Fat People shouldn't have kids. Yep, you shouldn't. If you need a fertility specialist, he/she will tell you so - I mean, if you fell pregnant naturally while fat, then cool... but we're damn sure not going to ENCOURAGE fatties to procreate. The thought of that would be icky, right? I guess that probably has associated health issues... but hey, I think that choice should be up to you. And what if you don't need help falling pregnant? Well, you're abusive. Yep, abusive. Just having a child when you're obese is abuse behaviour in itself. It's pretty much the same as backhanding your kid if it asks you for a drink of water. Having a fat parent can cause severe emotional stress for a child you know... so fatties, stop breeding! And god forbid a fat person ends up with a child on the chubby side - every Tom, Dick and Harry will tell you off for giving your kid anything more than carrots and water... depsite the fact that they'll happily take their own SKINNY kids to maccas for a nice bit of burger-binging. That's okay though - the fat and calories and salt and sugar in junk doesn't do a damn thing to skinny people... they're allowed to eat as much rubbish as they want... so long as they don't dare gain weight!
AND NOW...
*Being Fat means NO LOVE FOR YOU!
So yes, fat-hate does exist, and it runs rampant... it's like racism... so many people say, "I'm not racist but..." only to add something as obviously racist as, "I hate them darkies." Well, fat-hate is the same. People pretend (or do they seriously believe it?) that they're not nasty to fat people, that they don't hate us, that they believe we deserve the same rights and respect as everyone else... but then go on to say something that is hurtful for the entire overweight/obese population.
Oh well, I may be fat, but at least I'm not a judgemental tosser who doesn't know when to shut her effing mouth.
"I'm not sure what will happen, but there is something wrong with a man (or woman) loving someone who is unhealthily over or underweight. This isn't directed at you as I don't know what size/weight you are. But if you have a woman who is say 130kgs and her partner is OK with that, then there is something wrong with him. Nothing wrong with loving a 'big' girl, but when you hit morbid obesity and your health is affected, no man should be attracted by that. And the same if a woman has severe anorexia. There is a weight range at which people should find other people attractive, when it's beyond that, it's a little disturbing IMHO."
It was in response to something I'd written about relationships changing after one partner loses a lot of weight. I mean, from things I've heard and read about, some people do end up with relationship problems as a result... more often than not a result of the one who didn't lose the weight getting jealous of the attention the one who DID lose weight is now getting by the opposite sex.
A lot of people responded with their various tales... but yeah, the above... just wow.
I guess that not only should I tell DP he's disturbed for putting up with how disgustingly huge I am, but that he should leave me, because really, fat people like me shouldn't be in relationships. Except, perhaps if BOTH parties are the same size? Does that make it okay? Or are fatties not allowed to love other fatties as well?
While I understand that physical attraction to your partner IS important, surely there needs to be more than just thinking, "Yeah, she's hot," to get a man to want to be in a relationship with someone... right? What about the type of person they are? How they make you laugh? How they seem to understand what you're talking about even though others would be confused as hell? How about the fact that you're able to have an intelligent conversation with them, rather than just talking about nothing but TV shows or fashion or gossiping about people you know? Superficial conversations are fine, but I know that when I'M in a relationship, I need more than that.
And what about UGLY people? You know... people that are a "good weight," but don't really have the prettiest noggin. Do you have to have something wrong with you to want to be with someone who has a face for radio? Or is that okay, because ugliness has nothing to do with health?
Look, I get that people should want for their partner to be healthy - but I think that even those in a relationship with an obese person feel that way. Except for those extreme feeders who like nothing more than to watch their loved one get fatter by the minute, stuffing cakes and scones and fried donuts into their mouths... but I'd say those are few and far between.
The thing is though health and weight don't necessarily have anything to do with each other. I mean, I'm unhealthy. I know it. I'm also fat. I could be skinny and unhealthy too though... how many of us know some continously skinny person who lives of junk food... they just never put weight on? Or skinny people who binge drink? Skinny people who do drugs? Skinny people who smoke? Skinny people who starve themselves to remain the size they are? It's clear to me, that just because you're considered a healthy weight, doesn't mean that you're healthy... so how can someone suggest, with a straight face, that fat people are only loved by deranged people?
Really... what kind of crazy person thinks this? I mean, there's obviously one... she's wrote that after all... I suppose she and her partner are perfect weights, who don't have an unhealthy bone in their bodies. Yeah... I'm SURE that's the case... *roll eyes*
Some people don't think that there's such a thing as "fat hate," but just reading the above goes to show that at least 1 idiot out there is spreading the hate around.
So let's take a look at some of the "Rules Fat People Need to Obey,"...
*Fat People must never wear anything that reveals any part of their body that may be considered offensive. This means that swimwear must be head-to-toe... and not skin-tight... despite the fact that when you go into the water, you clothes stick to you... so perhaps you should just forget swimming altogether, fatty, even though it might help you lose weight, and is usually good exercise for those with weight problems, since it takes the pressure off your joint... but hey, you're fat and therefore unsightly... so save the eyes of the poor innocent skinny folk, and stay home.
*Fat People must not eat anything unhealthy. Ever. It doesn't matter if it's your birthday - no cake for you, lard-arse! If a skinny person sees you at the local food court having a cheeseburger, then they are safe to make the assumption that all you ever eat is take-away, and as such, tsk-tsk you, perhaps even say something to your face about your choice of meal (despite the fact that they're eating the same damn thing, and that the calories and fat content in that burger remain the same regardless of how fat you are), and probably go whinge to their friends about it (even those online - nothing beats a "OMG, this fat chick is eating maccas at the shops - PUT IT DOWN FATTY AND GET A SALAD!" FB update!). Even some of the healthier options are potentially fattening though - wholegrain pasta is STILL pasta. Lite cheese is STILL cheese. Your lean sausages still contain SOME fat. Probably better to eat nothing more than lettuce each day... mmmm... deliciously boring lettuce...
*Fat People shouldn't have kids. Yep, you shouldn't. If you need a fertility specialist, he/she will tell you so - I mean, if you fell pregnant naturally while fat, then cool... but we're damn sure not going to ENCOURAGE fatties to procreate. The thought of that would be icky, right? I guess that probably has associated health issues... but hey, I think that choice should be up to you. And what if you don't need help falling pregnant? Well, you're abusive. Yep, abusive. Just having a child when you're obese is abuse behaviour in itself. It's pretty much the same as backhanding your kid if it asks you for a drink of water. Having a fat parent can cause severe emotional stress for a child you know... so fatties, stop breeding! And god forbid a fat person ends up with a child on the chubby side - every Tom, Dick and Harry will tell you off for giving your kid anything more than carrots and water... depsite the fact that they'll happily take their own SKINNY kids to maccas for a nice bit of burger-binging. That's okay though - the fat and calories and salt and sugar in junk doesn't do a damn thing to skinny people... they're allowed to eat as much rubbish as they want... so long as they don't dare gain weight!
AND NOW...
*Being Fat means NO LOVE FOR YOU!
So yes, fat-hate does exist, and it runs rampant... it's like racism... so many people say, "I'm not racist but..." only to add something as obviously racist as, "I hate them darkies." Well, fat-hate is the same. People pretend (or do they seriously believe it?) that they're not nasty to fat people, that they don't hate us, that they believe we deserve the same rights and respect as everyone else... but then go on to say something that is hurtful for the entire overweight/obese population.
 |
| Yeah, you're right, fat-hate doesn't exist... and it certainly doesn't extend to children... |
Oh well, I may be fat, but at least I'm not a judgemental tosser who doesn't know when to shut her effing mouth.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Facing up to the Fat
Last night... ah. last night I had to deal with a bunch of shit from a bunch of idiots who think they know me... but don't.
On a forum, I decided to post a small vent about those who are against me having surgery, suggesting I'm "too skinny," (never ever been called that before! lol) and could lose weight if I tried harder... and saying, "If you just diet and exercise..." as if them saying that to me would be some amazing lightbulb moment because I'd never actually considered that before. *rolls eyes*
Anyway, I'd mentioned WLS on that forum before, and people had been very, "I wouldn't judge," blah blah so I figured I was safe to vent there. They can be bitches over there, but like I said, I felt safe with that issue.
HOW WRONG I WAS!
It's basically 14 pages of people telling me why I shouldn't have surgery, why I shouldn't have surgery, and ways I can lose weight without surgery. Keep in mind I never asked for advice or opinions... I was just venting.
So anyway, that irritated the bejesus out of me, but if nothing else, it's made me more determined to do for myself what I need to do... and what I need to do is have this sleeve done and get on with my life without crying my eyes out all the time about how hideous and repulsive I must be.
Someone added statistics to that thread though, which have made me even more certain that I'm doing the right thing. Apparently only 3% of people will lose weight and keep it off without surgery. THREE FREAKING PERCENT! That means there's 96% chance that you won't... and there's no way in hell I'm crazy enough to think I'd not be in that 96%. I know myself well enough to know that if I CAN fit another serving of carbonara into my body, and that my body is going, "YES! GIVE IT TO ME BABY! I'M STILL HUNGRY AS A MOFO!" then yeah, I'm going to go eat that pasta.
Now this has little to do with what I'm going on about above, but I have THIRTY FIVE VIEWS on this blog when last I looked (right before I started to type this up). Wow. I didn't think I'd get many views - mainly the other WLS girls (either band or sleeve) I talk to... because to everyone else, this is obviously kind of boring, right?
Well, if you are reading this - leave me a comment! I'd love to know who's actually reading this. I think I set it so you can post anonymously, so you don't even have to let me know who you are exactly... but I dunno, I'm keen to know what type of people are reading this... and what they think. So comment me if you're reading... pretty please.
Another thing I have to add is that my partner (DP), saw the photos I added to my first post. Plus a few more that I didn't end up adding. I would have never showed him them willingly, but once he caught on that I was okay to show the world, and yet not him, he got a little sulky, and I understood why... so showed him. He didn't say anything except laugh at the expression on my face in one of them (I didn't post that one, but I was singing Happy Birthday, so my face looked kinda stupid). I asked him if I look like that now... because honestly, I cannot tell.
Thing is, I know how to pose for a photo to look my best. I know the angles I need. I know how to stand in a posed photo so I look better, and I know how to dress myself (most of the time) to disguise my actual size.
So while the online world sees me like this:
Rather than the:
That I post on Facebook and similar.
Well, I guess it's a good thing to post these gross-but-real photos somewhere. No make-up to hide me. No posing to disguise me. Just me... sitting here in front of the computer with feral hair and looking gross. That's me though - that's what you'd get if you rocked up right now. Not the prettier version that my pictures elsewhere would have you believe...
So, here, I want to be completely honest. It's not the other photos are FAKE, they're just taken in a way to make me look less horrible... but I want to stop that for this blog. I mean, there may end up being photos with me in make-up and nice clothes... but I'm not going to pose or angle the camera in such a way to make myself look better than I actually do.
It's time to be honest. I guess that way, it'll also look more awesome when I manage to lose a lot of weight... lol.
Til next time...
On a forum, I decided to post a small vent about those who are against me having surgery, suggesting I'm "too skinny," (never ever been called that before! lol) and could lose weight if I tried harder... and saying, "If you just diet and exercise..." as if them saying that to me would be some amazing lightbulb moment because I'd never actually considered that before. *rolls eyes*
Anyway, I'd mentioned WLS on that forum before, and people had been very, "I wouldn't judge," blah blah so I figured I was safe to vent there. They can be bitches over there, but like I said, I felt safe with that issue.
HOW WRONG I WAS!
It's basically 14 pages of people telling me why I shouldn't have surgery, why I shouldn't have surgery, and ways I can lose weight without surgery. Keep in mind I never asked for advice or opinions... I was just venting.
So anyway, that irritated the bejesus out of me, but if nothing else, it's made me more determined to do for myself what I need to do... and what I need to do is have this sleeve done and get on with my life without crying my eyes out all the time about how hideous and repulsive I must be.
Someone added statistics to that thread though, which have made me even more certain that I'm doing the right thing. Apparently only 3% of people will lose weight and keep it off without surgery. THREE FREAKING PERCENT! That means there's 96% chance that you won't... and there's no way in hell I'm crazy enough to think I'd not be in that 96%. I know myself well enough to know that if I CAN fit another serving of carbonara into my body, and that my body is going, "YES! GIVE IT TO ME BABY! I'M STILL HUNGRY AS A MOFO!" then yeah, I'm going to go eat that pasta.
Now this has little to do with what I'm going on about above, but I have THIRTY FIVE VIEWS on this blog when last I looked (right before I started to type this up). Wow. I didn't think I'd get many views - mainly the other WLS girls (either band or sleeve) I talk to... because to everyone else, this is obviously kind of boring, right?
Well, if you are reading this - leave me a comment! I'd love to know who's actually reading this. I think I set it so you can post anonymously, so you don't even have to let me know who you are exactly... but I dunno, I'm keen to know what type of people are reading this... and what they think. So comment me if you're reading... pretty please.
Another thing I have to add is that my partner (DP), saw the photos I added to my first post. Plus a few more that I didn't end up adding. I would have never showed him them willingly, but once he caught on that I was okay to show the world, and yet not him, he got a little sulky, and I understood why... so showed him. He didn't say anything except laugh at the expression on my face in one of them (I didn't post that one, but I was singing Happy Birthday, so my face looked kinda stupid). I asked him if I look like that now... because honestly, I cannot tell.
Thing is, I know how to pose for a photo to look my best. I know the angles I need. I know how to stand in a posed photo so I look better, and I know how to dress myself (most of the time) to disguise my actual size.
So while the online world sees me like this:
It's all just smoke and mirrors!
I don't want people to see the real me. That would be to face up to the fact that I am, for the most part, pretty damn fat and ugly. Make-up works wonders. Good clothes work wonders. But so does the angle at which I take photos, how I hold my head (stick head OUT to lessen chins, for example)... etc etc etc.
If you popped in to my place right now, you'd be greeted with...
Rather than the:
Well, I guess it's a good thing to post these gross-but-real photos somewhere. No make-up to hide me. No posing to disguise me. Just me... sitting here in front of the computer with feral hair and looking gross. That's me though - that's what you'd get if you rocked up right now. Not the prettier version that my pictures elsewhere would have you believe...
So, here, I want to be completely honest. It's not the other photos are FAKE, they're just taken in a way to make me look less horrible... but I want to stop that for this blog. I mean, there may end up being photos with me in make-up and nice clothes... but I'm not going to pose or angle the camera in such a way to make myself look better than I actually do.
It's time to be honest. I guess that way, it'll also look more awesome when I manage to lose a lot of weight... lol.
Til next time...
Upwards and Outwards... How I Got Fat
I wasn't sure how to start this, but I suppose I'll take my lead from another lovely lady who is going on the same journey as I am.
So here it is... how I became me. Be prepared, this is likely to be long and rambly... I'll also be posting photos in here I would have never shared with anyone. These are the kinds of photos you hide and never print... that just sit there, taunting you about how fat you are.
I've never been thin - in all of my 25 years. I was born an average weight though and was an average-sized toddler... but for some reason or another, I ended up getting bigger as the years grew on.
I wasn't a roly-poly kid. Nobody would have looked at me when I was 6 and said I was fat... I was probably the chubby side of average. I had an appetite though, and I remember sitting at dinner eating the same size servings as my father... (and still secretly being hungry for more). I was just hungry. All the time. The feeling remains today.
When I was young, as a RAAF kid, we travelled in the car a lot, moving from one posting to another. Given the price of airfares back then, long-haul road-trips were pretty much the only option. I really enjoyed these trips. Part of my enjoyment was the fact that we got to stay in places we otherwise wouldn't have ever seen... but another part I have never before admitted to, is that I LOVED stopping for the food. Food on the road meant truck-stops, or getting to order breakfast the night before at the motor-inn we stayed at. Stopping along the way at servos for chips and soft drink/juice because there wasn't much else around. Or... if we were very lucky... spotting the Golden Arches and knowing that we'd likely stop because my parents knew there might not be another chance for a while... and me, being a compulsive pee-er (I drink a lot, and thus pee a lot - I still do to this day), always complained to stop because I wanted to use the toilets. I guess it was a rest enjoyed by all (even Dad, who hates McDonalds).
Another thing I remember about these trips is the music. Before the days of car CD-players, we had casette tapes... which my parents usually had recorded on themselves, by copying their old vinyl records. From this, sprung my love of old music - Queen in particular.
I don't think my father ever meant to hurt me - nor do I think he would even know that I remember this these days - but Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls," was declared as "Stacey's song," by my father. I think when I was as young as 6... and so, sometime around then, I started to notice that I was perhaps a little larger than my peers, even though, at that point, I was far from fat.
A lot of my good memories contain food. It's pretty sad really... that a childhood can be easier to remember because of the food you ate.
I mean, I remember being a child staying with my grandparents when I was young. When we visited them, we got lots of treats that I remember fondly. Eating fresh honey right off the honeycomb, eating orange ice-blocks in Winter (that the my Nanny put into cups so they didn't leak on the floor), having fresh strawberry jam spooned onto vanilla ice-cream instead of topping and eating white Country Split bread that was the most heavenly bread known to man. We weren't allowed white bread at home, so it was very special at the time.
I also think about the time I caught Mum eating my chocolate Easter Eggs after I was supposed to be in bed. lol. My parents had convinced me to break up my Easter eggs and pop them in a container to store them better. I woke up to ask for something (water or maybe I was feeling sick - one of those many things kids wake up and whinge about), and saw my mother sitting there, watching some primetime soapy, and eating MY EGGS. lol. I was so furious with her (now I just think it's funny).
Or what about Christmas? I used to be very upset when my Christmas meal didn't contain the standard roast that I had become accustomed to. That, and pretzels that nobody ever ended up eating, those chocolate wafer stick things, and a little table decoration Mum had made that was covered in chocolate eclairs.
From reading all of this, you'd assume I lived on a diet of junk food... but that was far from the truth. The fact is, as a kid, I was forced to eat healthily most of the time. Of course celebrations allowed for junk, as did visiting and travelling long-distance... but our diet was mostly meat-and-three-veg for dinner, sandwich for lunch, cereal for breakfast (not sugary cereals either - no Coco-Pops or anything) and fruit for snacks. You knew Mum was feeling generous if you ever saw a small pack of chips in your lunch box!
I didn't even eat a lot of take-away as a kid. At McDonalds, all I'd eat was the chips. I eventually moved up to nuggets too... but I just didn't like Maccas in general, and my Dad hated it, so we rarely went. My brother and I usually shared a Happy Meal - he'd have the burger, I'd have the chips and we'd share the drink or Mum would just order and extra drink. I didn't eat pizza. I thought it was horrible stuff. We didn't have any fancy take-aways either for our family - and as we weren't wealthy, we simply couldn't afford to eat out often. It was a rarity. Mum was a "take a packed lunch," type instead.
So how did I get fat?
Well, as I've said, I was never small... but I did exercise and play sports as a younger child, and I ate reasonably well, even if I ate more than a child my age probably needed.
I went through puberty early... and while all my friends were still in their little-girl bodies, I was developed breasts and growing pubic hair... at 8. Growing an adult body at such a young age meant that I began to look fatter than my peers - I mean, the body of a woman usually differs from that of a little girl, and I was too little to know that there was nothing physically wrong with my body, despite it being different from my peers. All I felt, was fat.
Still, I wasn't overly concerned... I mean, I thought about it, but it didn't occupy the majority of my thoughts like it does these days.
Okay, so... fast forward to my teenage years. All of a sudden, I had a bit more freedom. I mean, even just basic things, like the school canteen/tuckshop was different. Instead of having your mother write your lunch order on a paper bag and sending it to school with the correct amount in coins... well, I was given money to make my own choices. I had plenty to choose from too - plenty of fatty, greasy, unhealthy junk! I was 13 though, what did I care about these things? I was aware I was bigger than average, and it did upset me a lot more than previous years... but I seemed to lack the ability to think further ahead than "RIGHT NOW," so I just ate... whatever I damn well wanted really.
During these years I wanted to do some things - dancing, mainly. I wanted to do ballroom. Thing is, we didn't have the money then (Mum and Dad had split by this stage) and I was embarrassed by my body and didn't feel like I was "thin enough," to participate in that kind of activity. The girls who did dance were all skinny - I didn't fit that, so I wasn't going to make myself the laughing stock by joining in (despite the fact that it would have helped my fitness level and perhaps lowered my weight...).
We visited my grandfather one year... interstate. I remember something he said to me that has stuck in my mind for years, and haunted me since.
To my brother: "Wow, you've shot up like a weed!"
To me: "You haven't grown THIS way (as in, vertically), but you've grown a lot THIS way (horizontally)."
Said to a 14-year-old girl. I really don't think that was the wisest thing he could have said... and it made me feel like shit.
So let's fast forward again... to driving-age. I didn't drive. I didn't bother learning... but my friends did. It meant even more freedom... and now, my mother had given me access to more money than I previously had so... I wasted it. On take-away. By now I loved McDonalds, and spent a lot of money there. Where it had been a rarity in my home previously, I was now having a LOT of it. LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS. Some nights, we'd go to McDonalds THREE TIMES and order THREE FULL MEALS in that time. Yes, gross. I know. It definitely contributed to my size, and to the size of my partner in crime, who was 150kg at his heaviest.
All through my teenage years, I was aware that I was fat. Kids at school didn't want me to forget it. While I was not the fattest there was, I was fat enough to recieve my fair share of taunts and teasing. I remember some popular boys sending me an eMail (through the school system, where you could eMail anyone who was at that school), pretending to be from a boy who nobody liked (he was just a jerk, as well as annoying) saying how much he loved me... blah blah blah. These popular boys then decided to tease me, one saying, "At least now you can pretend to be normal - one person loves you even though you're fat."
I wasn't UNpopular at this time. I never was. I was never in the social-outcast groups in our school... but I was far away from popular as well.
My boobs probably saved me there - I had DD cups in my later high school years, and these did not escape the attention of numerous males. They might not have been interested in me, but they wanted to see my tits so would occasionally be nice in the hopes I'd show them off.
Here's the pathetic part - I often did. I KNEW that the only reason they were even talking to me was because they wanted a flash, but they were talking to me regardless... and I was willing to take whatever male attention I could. I got felt up on a set of stairs after school one afternoon (after school had finished, before my mother had arrived to pick me up)... he was popular and had wanted to see my boobs. I let him look down my top... but he wanted me to lift up my top for a closer look. He wanted to see WITHOUT the bra, and pulled it down and sucked on my nipple. At school. God, I was such a slut. Well, not really. I was just a sad teenage girl who thought this is what she had to do in order to get any sort of attention... and really, I guess it WAS what I had to do to get noticed at all. When this guy started touching another part of my anatomy, I quickly hurried off... I wasn't willing to let him touch/see that part of me, no matter how popular he was.
Of course, this stuff spreads easily, and this wasn't my first "flashing," incident... so not only was I now called, "fat," but also "a slut."
Obviously, for someone who already has self-esteem and body-image issues, this was just another kick in the guts and it was time for me to gain more weight.
Let's go to my first serious boyfriend. The tosser I lost my virginity to. I was fat, yet he paid attention to me and was willing to call himself my boyfriend... and while I was a smart girl intellectually, I was willing to lower every single one of my standards if it meant I could tell people I had a boyfriend. Even if he was a douche.
Well... I met him online. Being a fatty, what other way did I have to meet people? I didn't - so I lured them in with my personality first, and then went from there, hoping they liked me enough to see past the fact that I was fat. That's one thing I've learnt too - high school fat is different from real-world fat. Once you hit about 20, you can get away with being fatter than you could have 3 years earlier...
Anyway, this guy. WHAT A DICK. He was a bogan if ever I saw one. His mother was a foul-mouthed slapper who spent a lot of time with her 24-year-old boyfriend (she was about 39) and was too busy smoking and drinking to give two shits about her kids... and she was more than happy to let me stay with her when I ran away interstate to see him.
Yes, so desperate was I (a girl who was normally so well-behaved) to say I had a boyfriend, that I RAN AWAY INTERSTATE, after stealing money from my mother (well... kind of... I had access to this money but was only supposed to use it with permission) and caught a bus from Brisbane to Sydney.
I was so tired after my long bus-ride that all I wanted to do was sleep... so he let me, preferring to watch a dvd of Star Wars rather than spend any time with me. When the movie was over, I woke up to him prodding me and asking, "Are you ready now?" For sex, this was. And so... I lost my virginity. Because everyone had called me fat (and seriously, I was probably about 75kg-80kg, which was overweight for a girl of only 161cm, but not even nearly as fat as I could have been, and not nearly as huge as I thought I was!), I was willing to have that moment be a pretty dodgy memory... because hey, at least I wouldn't die a fat virgin!
He was critical of my size too - commenting on my "fat cheeks." On my face. Why he felt the need to say that I don't know. I got, "You would be pretty... if it weren't for your fat cheeks." Um... thanks boyfriend. How kind of you...???
Let's head to Schoolies (which is where I dumped this douch, over the phone). I got felt up there, but I'm pretty sure everyone did (most anyway)... so that's not really a stand-out. I do remember being rejected though. At a foam party, I had slipped and was sitting down, covered in foam. My head was showing (partly covered in foam), when a guy came over, started talking to me, and gave me a hand to help me up. When I stood, and wiped the foam off my body, he obviously no longer liked what he saw and wandered off. Not a word. He was just an example of what I'd put up with.
Sometime later, I met my daughter's father. Relationship went to shit, I fell pregnant young and early into the relationship... blah blah... I got fatter. I was about 93kg when I fell pregnant, 100kg by the time I was 42 weeks into the pregnancy (I went overdue...lol), but a week after I had my daughter, I weighed 85kg... so less than where I started. I was happy.
Not for long. My daughter's father turned out to be... well, a bit hopeless. He didn't care to help much... but more than that, I had a caesarean to have her, and that was something I had NEVER EVER EVER wanted. Never ever in my life. In fact, surgery was something I had wanted to avoid for my entire life... unless of course it was an emergency procedure.
Well, whenever I tried to mention how disheartened and disappointed I was at having the caesarean, how I felt I was pressured into it and that it wasn't necessary... EVERY SINGLE PERSON thought I was nuts... and you know, I expected people to not "get it," but when I spoke to her father, who I thought loved me and cared about me, he would complain and eventually it got to the, "ARE YOU STILL GOING ABOUT THIS? JEEZ!" point... and so I shut up. I turned to food.
Food, who had brought me so many good feelings in the past. The times I'd travelled long-haul with the family, the times I'd spent with my grandparents, the Christmas days I'd enjoyed, the driving around in cars with my friends (which was fun, even if we pigged out disgustingly)... etc etc. I had lost my youth, becoming a mother so young (at 19), and my partner at the time just didn't seem to care about anything I had to say... so yes, I turned to food, who would comfort me, who would bring me back to those happy memories, who would not judge me and tell me off, but who would make me feel nice when I was feeling down.
Until food made me feel like shit almost the moment after I shovelled the first mouthful in. Then I kept shovelling in more - trying harder to get rid of the bad feelings... and so on and so on.
I got to my highest weight in that relationship - 110kg. At 161cm, that's a fair bit. I looked pretty horrible, and I dressed pretty lazily (unless I went out somewhere nice, in which case I'd try to scrub up nicely)... but all the while, my daughter's father kept telling me I looked fine. If I wore a new dress, or did my hair differently, or SOMETHING he'd comment, "Wow, you look pretty." I always figured that, even though I was fatter then, he loved me all the same.
Of course, the relationship wasn't good so I don't know why I thought he loved me... I guess I just thought life was difficult so we were having issues... but that they'd be resolved when he finished his apprenticeship, that they'd be easier once our daughter was at school, once I could get a job/study/etc... blah blah blah. I looked to the future.
During all this time I'd tried a few different weightloss methods. I tried Tony Ferguson shakes... but I failed, perhaps partially because everyone was all, "Why are you doing that?" and trying to make me give up prematurely. Including my partner at the time. I did Lite n Easy, but it's expensive, and as soon as you stop it... well... hello weight gain! I learnt about calorie counting though, and tried that and did quite well... well, did well at counting calories and exercising, but the weight didn't move. I really have no idea why... I had the knowledge, I had the motivation, I had the committment... yet I remained fat.
Well, let's get to the break-up. Biggest break-up of my life, considering I was now an adult and had a child to this guy. One of his parting comments to me...
"You never know, if you lose a lot of weight and get rid of that hair (on my vagina he meant... though he never seemed to care how it was styled before, so I just didn't bother doing much with it anymore), you MIGHT find someone..."
I might? If I lose a ton of weight? Um... yeah, thanks. That really struck me - I had believed my weight wasn't much of an issue for him... but obviously, it was. As was my pubic hair... lol.
Pretty much straight away, I decided to not let him win. To not be some obese, sad, lonely pig... but to lose weight and be sexy. Now... since TF hadn't worked, since LnE worked short-term but was too costly for me, since calorie counting and exercise did nothing for my figure... what would I do? I know - HOW ABOUT STARVE?!
The stress of the break-up probably helped here... because even if I decided to just give up eating altogether right now, I couldn't do it... but back then, I managed. I was 22, and I stopped eating. I refused to eat anything with sugar or any other carbs... so when I did eat, I had a tiny amount of cheese or some meat. Over about 2-3 months, this saw me losing 27kg.
I then met my current partner - who got to me when I was 87kg. That was how big I was when we first slept together. He doesn't know that though - he thinks I was 77kg. I have never been able to tell him my weight - I am so ashamed and embarrassed, that I took 10kg off. He has no idea what I currently weigh...
There's so much more I could add... but this is REALLY LONG...
So basically, right now, I am 102kg. That gives me a BMI of 39.4. I'm 25, the mother of a little girl who turns 6 in July, and I am so freaking SICK of thinking about my weight... of trying and trying... only to fail.
Since the previous attempts, I've of course attempted again and again. That's what we fatties do, right? Exhaust all our options and cry because they never work.
I've done Atkins.
I've done Calorie Counting.
I've done Calorie King (which is calorie counting, but with a program to help you do it).
I've tried Vegetarianism (partly for ethical reasons, but admittedly I also hoped it'd help by cutting out animal fat).
I've done the CSIRO Total Wellbeing Diet.
I've been on Duromine.
I've tried simply eating less and eating lower-fat/calorie meals.
I've tried focussing on when I'm hungry and only eating when I am truly hungry, stopping when I'm satisfied rather than full.
I've tried FREAKING EVERYTHING I can try without spending billions of dollars only to fail yet again.
I've done Wii Active.
I've purchased an exercise bike and used it regularly.
I've worked out to exercise videos.
I've spent ages walking and walking and walking...
NOTHING DAMMIT! NOTHING WORKS!
And so... it's time for me to try something else. Something which is pretty much going to be it for me.
A GASTRIC SLEEVE.
Yep. Surgery. I need to do it - I need to lose this goddamn weight. I am SO TIRED of being fat. I am so tired of trying to do everything right... and having nothing work. I am so TIRED of everything... but more than anything, I'm tired of never being full/satisfied. I'm tired of living in a state of constant hunger. I'm tired of failing at diets because I'm FREAKING STARVING.
So, doctor, cut it off. Cut part of my stomach off, be gone with it. I don't want it.
I want to be smaller. I want to be healthier. I want to be able to use the sleeve to help me eat healthily and exercise... something that I cannot do on my own.
Why at only 25? What at only 102kg? Well... because why not? Why wait until I've got less life left in me? Why wait until I'm 50kg heavier? Why wait until I'm suffering from a million other obesity-related illnesses? Why not just do it NOW instead?
So there you have it - I plan to have surgery to help me lose weight. I am under no illusions - I am not a moron. I know there will be plenty of hard work ahead of me... but the sleeve will assist me to get there. Permanently.
Sometime after August 30, I will be able to have my surgery... after mid-May I should be funded, at which point I'll book my appointment.
I cannot wait to get healthy, and to be done with this constant yo-yo dieting.
So here it is... how I became me. Be prepared, this is likely to be long and rambly... I'll also be posting photos in here I would have never shared with anyone. These are the kinds of photos you hide and never print... that just sit there, taunting you about how fat you are.
I've never been thin - in all of my 25 years. I was born an average weight though and was an average-sized toddler... but for some reason or another, I ended up getting bigger as the years grew on.
(Me, aged 3 or 4 - just a normal kid with ice-block stains on her lips...lol)
I wasn't a roly-poly kid. Nobody would have looked at me when I was 6 and said I was fat... I was probably the chubby side of average. I had an appetite though, and I remember sitting at dinner eating the same size servings as my father... (and still secretly being hungry for more). I was just hungry. All the time. The feeling remains today.
When I was young, as a RAAF kid, we travelled in the car a lot, moving from one posting to another. Given the price of airfares back then, long-haul road-trips were pretty much the only option. I really enjoyed these trips. Part of my enjoyment was the fact that we got to stay in places we otherwise wouldn't have ever seen... but another part I have never before admitted to, is that I LOVED stopping for the food. Food on the road meant truck-stops, or getting to order breakfast the night before at the motor-inn we stayed at. Stopping along the way at servos for chips and soft drink/juice because there wasn't much else around. Or... if we were very lucky... spotting the Golden Arches and knowing that we'd likely stop because my parents knew there might not be another chance for a while... and me, being a compulsive pee-er (I drink a lot, and thus pee a lot - I still do to this day), always complained to stop because I wanted to use the toilets. I guess it was a rest enjoyed by all (even Dad, who hates McDonalds).
Another thing I remember about these trips is the music. Before the days of car CD-players, we had casette tapes... which my parents usually had recorded on themselves, by copying their old vinyl records. From this, sprung my love of old music - Queen in particular.
I don't think my father ever meant to hurt me - nor do I think he would even know that I remember this these days - but Queen's "Fat Bottom Girls," was declared as "Stacey's song," by my father. I think when I was as young as 6... and so, sometime around then, I started to notice that I was perhaps a little larger than my peers, even though, at that point, I was far from fat.
A lot of my good memories contain food. It's pretty sad really... that a childhood can be easier to remember because of the food you ate.
I mean, I remember being a child staying with my grandparents when I was young. When we visited them, we got lots of treats that I remember fondly. Eating fresh honey right off the honeycomb, eating orange ice-blocks in Winter (that the my Nanny put into cups so they didn't leak on the floor), having fresh strawberry jam spooned onto vanilla ice-cream instead of topping and eating white Country Split bread that was the most heavenly bread known to man. We weren't allowed white bread at home, so it was very special at the time.
I also think about the time I caught Mum eating my chocolate Easter Eggs after I was supposed to be in bed. lol. My parents had convinced me to break up my Easter eggs and pop them in a container to store them better. I woke up to ask for something (water or maybe I was feeling sick - one of those many things kids wake up and whinge about), and saw my mother sitting there, watching some primetime soapy, and eating MY EGGS. lol. I was so furious with her (now I just think it's funny).
Or what about Christmas? I used to be very upset when my Christmas meal didn't contain the standard roast that I had become accustomed to. That, and pretzels that nobody ever ended up eating, those chocolate wafer stick things, and a little table decoration Mum had made that was covered in chocolate eclairs.
From reading all of this, you'd assume I lived on a diet of junk food... but that was far from the truth. The fact is, as a kid, I was forced to eat healthily most of the time. Of course celebrations allowed for junk, as did visiting and travelling long-distance... but our diet was mostly meat-and-three-veg for dinner, sandwich for lunch, cereal for breakfast (not sugary cereals either - no Coco-Pops or anything) and fruit for snacks. You knew Mum was feeling generous if you ever saw a small pack of chips in your lunch box!
I didn't even eat a lot of take-away as a kid. At McDonalds, all I'd eat was the chips. I eventually moved up to nuggets too... but I just didn't like Maccas in general, and my Dad hated it, so we rarely went. My brother and I usually shared a Happy Meal - he'd have the burger, I'd have the chips and we'd share the drink or Mum would just order and extra drink. I didn't eat pizza. I thought it was horrible stuff. We didn't have any fancy take-aways either for our family - and as we weren't wealthy, we simply couldn't afford to eat out often. It was a rarity. Mum was a "take a packed lunch," type instead.
So how did I get fat?
Well, as I've said, I was never small... but I did exercise and play sports as a younger child, and I ate reasonably well, even if I ate more than a child my age probably needed.
I went through puberty early... and while all my friends were still in their little-girl bodies, I was developed breasts and growing pubic hair... at 8. Growing an adult body at such a young age meant that I began to look fatter than my peers - I mean, the body of a woman usually differs from that of a little girl, and I was too little to know that there was nothing physically wrong with my body, despite it being different from my peers. All I felt, was fat.
Still, I wasn't overly concerned... I mean, I thought about it, but it didn't occupy the majority of my thoughts like it does these days.
Okay, so... fast forward to my teenage years. All of a sudden, I had a bit more freedom. I mean, even just basic things, like the school canteen/tuckshop was different. Instead of having your mother write your lunch order on a paper bag and sending it to school with the correct amount in coins... well, I was given money to make my own choices. I had plenty to choose from too - plenty of fatty, greasy, unhealthy junk! I was 13 though, what did I care about these things? I was aware I was bigger than average, and it did upset me a lot more than previous years... but I seemed to lack the ability to think further ahead than "RIGHT NOW," so I just ate... whatever I damn well wanted really.
During these years I wanted to do some things - dancing, mainly. I wanted to do ballroom. Thing is, we didn't have the money then (Mum and Dad had split by this stage) and I was embarrassed by my body and didn't feel like I was "thin enough," to participate in that kind of activity. The girls who did dance were all skinny - I didn't fit that, so I wasn't going to make myself the laughing stock by joining in (despite the fact that it would have helped my fitness level and perhaps lowered my weight...).
We visited my grandfather one year... interstate. I remember something he said to me that has stuck in my mind for years, and haunted me since.
To my brother: "Wow, you've shot up like a weed!"
To me: "You haven't grown THIS way (as in, vertically), but you've grown a lot THIS way (horizontally)."
Said to a 14-year-old girl. I really don't think that was the wisest thing he could have said... and it made me feel like shit.
So let's fast forward again... to driving-age. I didn't drive. I didn't bother learning... but my friends did. It meant even more freedom... and now, my mother had given me access to more money than I previously had so... I wasted it. On take-away. By now I loved McDonalds, and spent a lot of money there. Where it had been a rarity in my home previously, I was now having a LOT of it. LOTS AND LOTS AND LOTS. Some nights, we'd go to McDonalds THREE TIMES and order THREE FULL MEALS in that time. Yes, gross. I know. It definitely contributed to my size, and to the size of my partner in crime, who was 150kg at his heaviest.
All through my teenage years, I was aware that I was fat. Kids at school didn't want me to forget it. While I was not the fattest there was, I was fat enough to recieve my fair share of taunts and teasing. I remember some popular boys sending me an eMail (through the school system, where you could eMail anyone who was at that school), pretending to be from a boy who nobody liked (he was just a jerk, as well as annoying) saying how much he loved me... blah blah blah. These popular boys then decided to tease me, one saying, "At least now you can pretend to be normal - one person loves you even though you're fat."
I wasn't UNpopular at this time. I never was. I was never in the social-outcast groups in our school... but I was far away from popular as well.
My boobs probably saved me there - I had DD cups in my later high school years, and these did not escape the attention of numerous males. They might not have been interested in me, but they wanted to see my tits so would occasionally be nice in the hopes I'd show them off.
Here's the pathetic part - I often did. I KNEW that the only reason they were even talking to me was because they wanted a flash, but they were talking to me regardless... and I was willing to take whatever male attention I could. I got felt up on a set of stairs after school one afternoon (after school had finished, before my mother had arrived to pick me up)... he was popular and had wanted to see my boobs. I let him look down my top... but he wanted me to lift up my top for a closer look. He wanted to see WITHOUT the bra, and pulled it down and sucked on my nipple. At school. God, I was such a slut. Well, not really. I was just a sad teenage girl who thought this is what she had to do in order to get any sort of attention... and really, I guess it WAS what I had to do to get noticed at all. When this guy started touching another part of my anatomy, I quickly hurried off... I wasn't willing to let him touch/see that part of me, no matter how popular he was.
Of course, this stuff spreads easily, and this wasn't my first "flashing," incident... so not only was I now called, "fat," but also "a slut."
Obviously, for someone who already has self-esteem and body-image issues, this was just another kick in the guts and it was time for me to gain more weight.
Let's go to my first serious boyfriend. The tosser I lost my virginity to. I was fat, yet he paid attention to me and was willing to call himself my boyfriend... and while I was a smart girl intellectually, I was willing to lower every single one of my standards if it meant I could tell people I had a boyfriend. Even if he was a douche.
Well... I met him online. Being a fatty, what other way did I have to meet people? I didn't - so I lured them in with my personality first, and then went from there, hoping they liked me enough to see past the fact that I was fat. That's one thing I've learnt too - high school fat is different from real-world fat. Once you hit about 20, you can get away with being fatter than you could have 3 years earlier...
Anyway, this guy. WHAT A DICK. He was a bogan if ever I saw one. His mother was a foul-mouthed slapper who spent a lot of time with her 24-year-old boyfriend (she was about 39) and was too busy smoking and drinking to give two shits about her kids... and she was more than happy to let me stay with her when I ran away interstate to see him.
Yes, so desperate was I (a girl who was normally so well-behaved) to say I had a boyfriend, that I RAN AWAY INTERSTATE, after stealing money from my mother (well... kind of... I had access to this money but was only supposed to use it with permission) and caught a bus from Brisbane to Sydney.
I was so tired after my long bus-ride that all I wanted to do was sleep... so he let me, preferring to watch a dvd of Star Wars rather than spend any time with me. When the movie was over, I woke up to him prodding me and asking, "Are you ready now?" For sex, this was. And so... I lost my virginity. Because everyone had called me fat (and seriously, I was probably about 75kg-80kg, which was overweight for a girl of only 161cm, but not even nearly as fat as I could have been, and not nearly as huge as I thought I was!), I was willing to have that moment be a pretty dodgy memory... because hey, at least I wouldn't die a fat virgin!
He was critical of my size too - commenting on my "fat cheeks." On my face. Why he felt the need to say that I don't know. I got, "You would be pretty... if it weren't for your fat cheeks." Um... thanks boyfriend. How kind of you...???
Let's head to Schoolies (which is where I dumped this douch, over the phone). I got felt up there, but I'm pretty sure everyone did (most anyway)... so that's not really a stand-out. I do remember being rejected though. At a foam party, I had slipped and was sitting down, covered in foam. My head was showing (partly covered in foam), when a guy came over, started talking to me, and gave me a hand to help me up. When I stood, and wiped the foam off my body, he obviously no longer liked what he saw and wandered off. Not a word. He was just an example of what I'd put up with.
(My 18th Birthday)
Sometime later, I met my daughter's father. Relationship went to shit, I fell pregnant young and early into the relationship... blah blah... I got fatter. I was about 93kg when I fell pregnant, 100kg by the time I was 42 weeks into the pregnancy (I went overdue...lol), but a week after I had my daughter, I weighed 85kg... so less than where I started. I was happy.
Not for long. My daughter's father turned out to be... well, a bit hopeless. He didn't care to help much... but more than that, I had a caesarean to have her, and that was something I had NEVER EVER EVER wanted. Never ever in my life. In fact, surgery was something I had wanted to avoid for my entire life... unless of course it was an emergency procedure.
Well, whenever I tried to mention how disheartened and disappointed I was at having the caesarean, how I felt I was pressured into it and that it wasn't necessary... EVERY SINGLE PERSON thought I was nuts... and you know, I expected people to not "get it," but when I spoke to her father, who I thought loved me and cared about me, he would complain and eventually it got to the, "ARE YOU STILL GOING ABOUT THIS? JEEZ!" point... and so I shut up. I turned to food.
(Me enjoying Christmas when my daughter was 17 months)
Food, who had brought me so many good feelings in the past. The times I'd travelled long-haul with the family, the times I'd spent with my grandparents, the Christmas days I'd enjoyed, the driving around in cars with my friends (which was fun, even if we pigged out disgustingly)... etc etc. I had lost my youth, becoming a mother so young (at 19), and my partner at the time just didn't seem to care about anything I had to say... so yes, I turned to food, who would comfort me, who would bring me back to those happy memories, who would not judge me and tell me off, but who would make me feel nice when I was feeling down.
Until food made me feel like shit almost the moment after I shovelled the first mouthful in. Then I kept shovelling in more - trying harder to get rid of the bad feelings... and so on and so on.
I got to my highest weight in that relationship - 110kg. At 161cm, that's a fair bit. I looked pretty horrible, and I dressed pretty lazily (unless I went out somewhere nice, in which case I'd try to scrub up nicely)... but all the while, my daughter's father kept telling me I looked fine. If I wore a new dress, or did my hair differently, or SOMETHING he'd comment, "Wow, you look pretty." I always figured that, even though I was fatter then, he loved me all the same.
(When my daughter was close to 2)
Of course, the relationship wasn't good so I don't know why I thought he loved me... I guess I just thought life was difficult so we were having issues... but that they'd be resolved when he finished his apprenticeship, that they'd be easier once our daughter was at school, once I could get a job/study/etc... blah blah blah. I looked to the future.
During all this time I'd tried a few different weightloss methods. I tried Tony Ferguson shakes... but I failed, perhaps partially because everyone was all, "Why are you doing that?" and trying to make me give up prematurely. Including my partner at the time. I did Lite n Easy, but it's expensive, and as soon as you stop it... well... hello weight gain! I learnt about calorie counting though, and tried that and did quite well... well, did well at counting calories and exercising, but the weight didn't move. I really have no idea why... I had the knowledge, I had the motivation, I had the committment... yet I remained fat.
Well, let's get to the break-up. Biggest break-up of my life, considering I was now an adult and had a child to this guy. One of his parting comments to me...
"You never know, if you lose a lot of weight and get rid of that hair (on my vagina he meant... though he never seemed to care how it was styled before, so I just didn't bother doing much with it anymore), you MIGHT find someone..."
I might? If I lose a ton of weight? Um... yeah, thanks. That really struck me - I had believed my weight wasn't much of an issue for him... but obviously, it was. As was my pubic hair... lol.
Pretty much straight away, I decided to not let him win. To not be some obese, sad, lonely pig... but to lose weight and be sexy. Now... since TF hadn't worked, since LnE worked short-term but was too costly for me, since calorie counting and exercise did nothing for my figure... what would I do? I know - HOW ABOUT STARVE?!
The stress of the break-up probably helped here... because even if I decided to just give up eating altogether right now, I couldn't do it... but back then, I managed. I was 22, and I stopped eating. I refused to eat anything with sugar or any other carbs... so when I did eat, I had a tiny amount of cheese or some meat. Over about 2-3 months, this saw me losing 27kg.
I then met my current partner - who got to me when I was 87kg. That was how big I was when we first slept together. He doesn't know that though - he thinks I was 77kg. I have never been able to tell him my weight - I am so ashamed and embarrassed, that I took 10kg off. He has no idea what I currently weigh...
There's so much more I could add... but this is REALLY LONG...
So basically, right now, I am 102kg. That gives me a BMI of 39.4. I'm 25, the mother of a little girl who turns 6 in July, and I am so freaking SICK of thinking about my weight... of trying and trying... only to fail.
(Me Jan this year - daughter's first day of school)
Since the previous attempts, I've of course attempted again and again. That's what we fatties do, right? Exhaust all our options and cry because they never work.
I've done Atkins.
I've done Calorie Counting.
I've done Calorie King (which is calorie counting, but with a program to help you do it).
I've tried Vegetarianism (partly for ethical reasons, but admittedly I also hoped it'd help by cutting out animal fat).
I've done the CSIRO Total Wellbeing Diet.
I've been on Duromine.
I've tried simply eating less and eating lower-fat/calorie meals.
I've tried focussing on when I'm hungry and only eating when I am truly hungry, stopping when I'm satisfied rather than full.
I've tried FREAKING EVERYTHING I can try without spending billions of dollars only to fail yet again.
I've done Wii Active.
I've purchased an exercise bike and used it regularly.
I've worked out to exercise videos.
I've spent ages walking and walking and walking...
NOTHING DAMMIT! NOTHING WORKS!
And so... it's time for me to try something else. Something which is pretty much going to be it for me.
A GASTRIC SLEEVE.
Yep. Surgery. I need to do it - I need to lose this goddamn weight. I am SO TIRED of being fat. I am so tired of trying to do everything right... and having nothing work. I am so TIRED of everything... but more than anything, I'm tired of never being full/satisfied. I'm tired of living in a state of constant hunger. I'm tired of failing at diets because I'm FREAKING STARVING.
So, doctor, cut it off. Cut part of my stomach off, be gone with it. I don't want it.
I want to be smaller. I want to be healthier. I want to be able to use the sleeve to help me eat healthily and exercise... something that I cannot do on my own.
Why at only 25? What at only 102kg? Well... because why not? Why wait until I've got less life left in me? Why wait until I'm 50kg heavier? Why wait until I'm suffering from a million other obesity-related illnesses? Why not just do it NOW instead?
So there you have it - I plan to have surgery to help me lose weight. I am under no illusions - I am not a moron. I know there will be plenty of hard work ahead of me... but the sleeve will assist me to get there. Permanently.
Sometime after August 30, I will be able to have my surgery... after mid-May I should be funded, at which point I'll book my appointment.
I cannot wait to get healthy, and to be done with this constant yo-yo dieting.
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