The Beginning of the End

Two years ago, I realized I was fat. On that terrible day, I published the following post.

Swallowed Whole

I’m not sure when it happened. Or how. One minute, I stood among the young and cute. Weighing in at 130 pounds, I posed proudly in my string bikini. Wriggled into teeny tiny jeans and tight little tops. Placed more value on the salty taste of sweat falling off my brow than the sweet, chocolatey taste of cookies.

But then, something changed. My inner fat girl got loose. I never saw her coming. Not her dimpled butt cheeks and jiggly belly. Never got a glimpse of her over-inflated boobs. And certainly never noticed that puffy face.

Until the morning I woke up and discovered she had swallowed me whole.

Oh sure, there were moments. Moments that had I paid attention, would have set the alarm bells ringing. Like the day my size 6 jeans no longer zipped up. Definitely the morning my size 12s admitted defeat. Or the moment I realized my breasts were bursting out of my bra – and I wasn’t pregnant. Surely I should have noticed when ice cream began making a nightly appearance. Or when the dog ate my running shoes – and I didn’t realize it for a whole month.

Moments like those should have gotten my attention.

Instead, there were excuses. Work was stressful. And I was busy. I didn’t have time to exercise. Or to eat right. My medication made me gain weight. Or the dryer had shrunk my pants. I’d fix it. Tomorrow. Next week. Or next year. I’d lose it by Christmas. By summer. Definitely by my birthday.

Guess what? I’m still fat. Still shopping at Lane Bryant for my fat girl pants. Still hooving chocolate chip ice cream (although now it’s lite) while sitting on my flabby ass. Still feeling invisible – or even worse, way too obviously fat in a sea of skinny girls.

My mom could probably fit in those size 6’s I have packed away. My dad’s definitely in better shape than me. My best friend now holds my skinny girl status. While I remain, according to my husband, “just a little bit fat.”

I’m tired of it. Sick to death of it. If I could take a knife and just carve away all the excess flab, I would do it. But getting rid of the fat girl isn’t that easy. She holds on tight. Gives way slowly. And she’s always ready to stage a comeback.

I’ve thought about doing everything. Weight Watchers. South Beach. Hypnosis. Nutrisystem. Slim Fast. I’ve even (briefly) toyed with the idea of becoming bulimic. All I know is it’s a war I can’t afford to lose. Even though it’s a battle I don’t really want to fight.

I’ve been swallowed by a fat girl. When you see me, know that the skinny me, the real me, is still screaming inside. But someday, one day soon, I’m going to break free into the light.

I look forward to seeing you all then. But until that day comes, be nice to fat girls. We all have a skinny girl hiding within.

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Published in: on March 17, 2008 at 9:45 pm  Leave a Comment  

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