Anger

I am angry.

I'm not even sure why I am so angry.

But I am. I don't know where to put it all.

When I eat, especially sugar, I feel relaxed. Happy.

I know, I know - blasphemy!

But it's true. It's just like any other addict. If it didn't make us feel good in some way, why would we do it?

But then the shit hits the fan.

I feel physically terrible. Emotionally wrecked. Spiritually empty.

But it's the few moments of calm. relaxation, happiness that drives me back again and again.
When it's out of my system, it's easier to stay away from. This is the moment I have control. I must control that first bite, or the rest of it controls me.

Let's talk about something else.

I had my flab. No, not just the I'm-still-fat-and-need-to-lose-more-weight flab. I'm talking about the nasty skin hanging all over my body. My underarms are the worse.
Thing 1 plays with that underarm flab. He thinks it's hilarious the way it swings back and forth. He pokes it and laughs.

I want to rip it off.

One day I will take a picture and share it with you bloggy-peeps.

But for now, I won't. Wanna know why?

Because for the past few weeks I have been reading lots of posts. There is so much judgement. So much hate slinging. These things make me afraid sometimes of posting the truth. Maybe I'm off plan. Maybe I didn't get in the workout I planned. Maybe... whatever. I can't put it out there without worry that I am going to be judged.

Then again, I am the one who puts it out there for all to read, and ultimatly, to judge.

I guess it's one of those things.. like... when I was around college age, I was obviously obese. When you are obese, you try your hardest to do things normally. You try to wear normal clothing. Living in the northeast, when the summer hit, I wore shorts. I was never comfortable in them, showing my fat legs, but wearing pants was excruciating in the heat. I just pushed the idea that everyone was looking at me and judging my fatness.

Then, I joined group counseling meetings done through an eating disorders clinic(!). During one session, an older woman, who was quite heavy, but not as heavy as I, stated she was "absolutly disgusted" when fat people "dared" to go out in public in shorts or skirts. It made her want "to vomit".

I have not worn a pair of shorts out ever since that day.

I could pretend for a while that I wasn't being judged. That people had better things to do than judge me about my attire. But it just wasn't true. The truth slapped me in the face.

So, I can sit here and hope and pretend that my posts go out to people who have better things to do than judge me for my struggles and my triumphs. But I know better. I know better by seeing it through my own eyes.

So, should people dumb down what they say? Should they pat everyone on the head and spout things like "nice try!" and "At least you didn't eat the whole cake!". No. I don't want that either. I don't want that patronizing shit anymore than I want to see "shut your pie-hole, you fat slob" written there.

So, what do I want? I have no freaking idea. I think I would love nothing more than to just stop being CRAZY.