This morning I read something that has shaken me to the core of my being.

I was reading a post at Blogher by Denise on a book titled “Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters.”

This subject is near and dear to my heart, because I am a mother to a daughter and I am a woman who has spent the majority of her life hating (not feeling comfortable with) her body.

The last line of her post knocked the wind out of me and has had me crying every since I read it.

Would you rather be mean or stupid than fat? And what, exactly, is "fat"? 5lbs overweight? 50lbs? At what point would you rather be dead... if you're a mom - at what point would your daughter want to be dead? Have you asked her?

It is quite possible that those words--that ONE question-- has forever changed me.

I want desperately to put into words WHY it has affected me so deeply, but I’m having a hard time.

I think the answer is really as simple as “I don’t ever want my daughter to feel the way that I have felt for most of my adult life and the only way that I can have some control over that is to STOP FEELING THE WAY THAT I FEEL ABOUT MY BODY.”

I may not have ever wished to be dead rather than fat, but in so many ways, I have been dead. I’ve locked myself in my house, I’ve avoided people that I love, I’ve missed out on birthday parties and weddings and girls nights out because I was too ashamed to be seen in public “fat.”

That’s sick and twisted in itself, but the fact that up until 4 years ago, I was never even fat.

But I thought I was.

And now I am fat and I hate being fat. I will always hate being fat. I am uncomfortable when I’m fat. I hate that my thighs rub together when I walk. I hate that I can feel my belly hanging when I sit down. I hate that I can see lumps in my arms when I look in the mirror.

But does that have to mean that I hate who I am? And that I have to walk around feeling like I need to apologize to the people in my presence for being fat?

Sometimes, I feel like my Body Hate is a drug and I am addicted. I hate feeling this way, I hate hurting people that I love and yet, everyday, I wake up and make a choice to hate myself for being fat.

DOES THIS EVEN MAKE SENSE?

I’ve made some positive changes in regards to this issue. I'll give you one example. I used to use horrifying language when talking about my body and I have made the choice not to do that anymore. I used to call myself a “fat pig” “repulsive” “a big cow.”

And even worse.

But even though I don’t talk about myself in that manner anymore, I still feel that way about myself.

My daughter is watching me, she is learning from me and even though I may not walk around saying "I'm a fat pig who doesn't deserve to enjoy my life!" like I used to, I most certainly am not living life to it's fullest because of my weight.

at what point would your daughter want to be dead? Have you asked her?

I keep hearing those words running through my head and I want to change. RIGHT NOW.

For good.

I have tried so many times to change, to learn to love my body. But I’ve never really and truly found the answer.

Is there an answer? There has to be answer.

Perhaps the answer is that I have to learn to be content. Content with who I am as a human being, not with what size jeans I wear.

Or maybe The Answer is to stop being so fucking self centered.

I have to start thinking about the people in my life who love me, the people who I have hurt deeply because of my body issues. The people who I’ve avoided because “Wah, I’m too fat to go to your wedding.”

I have to stop focusing on myself and how I feel at every damn minute of the day and start thinking about I have to start thinking about the people in my life who love me, the people who I have hurt deeply because of my body issues. The people who I’ve avoided because “Wah, I’m too fat to go to your wedding.”

I have to start thinking about my children-- especially my daughter because I don’t ever want her to say she’d rather DIE than be fat.

(I realize this post is choppy and probably full of mistakes. That's because I'm Writing While Emotional--SEE: BAWLING. I may come back and clean it up a little once I stop Being Emotional. Or, not. We'll see.)

This morning I read something that has shaken me to the core of my being.

I was reading a post at Blogher by Denise on a book titled “Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters.”

This subject is near and dear to my heart, because I am a mother to a daughter and I am a woman who has spent the majority of her life hating (not feeling comfortable with) her body.

The last line of her post knocked the wind out of me and has had me crying every since I read it.

Would you rather be mean or stupid than fat? And what, exactly, is "fat"? 5lbs overweight? 50lbs? At what point would you rather be dead... if you're a mom - at what point would your daughter want to be dead? Have you asked her?

It is quite possible that those words--that ONE question-- has forever changed me.

I want desperately to put into words WHY it has affected me so deeply, but I’m having a hard time.

I think the answer is really as simple as “I don’t ever want my daughter to feel the way that I have felt for most of my adult life and the only way that I can have some control over that is to STOP FEELING THE WAY THAT I FEEL ABOUT MY BODY.”

I may not have ever wished to be dead rather than fat, but in so many ways, I have been dead. I’ve locked myself in my house, I’ve avoided people that I love, I’ve missed out on birthday parties and weddings and girls nights out because I was too ashamed to be seen in public “fat.”

That’s sick and twisted in itself, but the fact that up until 4 years ago, I was never even fat.

But I thought I was.

And now I am fat and I hate being fat. I will always hate being fat. I am uncomfortable when I’m fat. I hate that my thighs rub together when I walk. I hate that I can feel my belly hanging when I sit down. I hate that I can see lumps in my arms when I look in the mirror.

But does that have to mean that I hate who I am? And that I have to walk around feeling like I need to apologize to the people in my presence for being fat?

Sometimes, I feel like my Body Hate is a drug and I am addicted. I hate feeling this way, I hate hurting people that I love and yet, everyday, I wake up and make a choice to hate myself for being fat.

DOES THIS EVEN MAKE SENSE?

I’ve made some positive changes in regards to this issue. I'll give you one example. I used to use horrifying language when talking about my body and I have made the choice not to do that anymore. I used to call myself a “fat pig” “repulsive” “a big cow.”

And even worse.

But even though I don’t talk about myself in that manner anymore, I still feel that way about myself.

My daughter is watching me, she is learning from me and even though I may not walk around saying "I'm a fat pig who doesn't deserve to enjoy my life!" like I used to, I most certainly am not living life to it's fullest because of my weight.

at what point would your daughter want to be dead? Have you asked her?

I keep hearing those words running through my head and I want to change. RIGHT NOW.

For good.

I have tried so many times to change, to learn to love my body. But I’ve never really and truly found the answer.

Is there an answer? There has to be answer.

Perhaps the answer is that I have to learn to be content. Content with who I am as a human being, not with what size jeans I wear.

Or maybe The Answer is to stop being so fucking self centered.

I have to start thinking about the people in my life who love me, the people who I have hurt deeply because of my body issues. The people who I’ve avoided because “Wah, I’m too fat to go to your wedding.”

I have to stop focusing on myself and how I feel at every damn minute of the day and start thinking about I have to start thinking about the people in my life who love me, the people who I have hurt deeply because of my body issues. The people who I’ve avoided because “Wah, I’m too fat to go to your wedding.”

I have to start thinking about my children-- especially my daughter because I don’t ever want her to say she’d rather DIE than be fat.

(I realize this post is choppy and probably full of mistakes. That's because I'm Writing While Emotional--SEE: BAWLING. I may come back and clean it up a little once I stop Being Emotional. Or, not. We'll see.)

(I've been wanting to write about this for weeks. I wrote a little something on Flickr, and I'm going to post those words here until I'm able to express myself on this issue in the way that I want, without having an emotional breakdown.)

the scale. the measuring tape.

i just don't know how.

Last week I posted pictures of of my stomach. I tried to make light of it, but the truth was, I was terrified of letting people see what it REALLY looks like.

I can't tell you how many times that I've cried over the way my stomach looks. When I see it in the mirror, I feel like some kind of a beast. When I'm watching a movie with my husband and an image of a beautiful woman with a stomach that is flat and not full of stretch marks and a deformed belly button appears on the screen, I want to throw up from the shame that I feel for the way that I look.

No matter how many times my husband tells me that I'm beautiful, I can't believe it because of my stomach..

His hands gently stroked my belly, as he looked at it. "You're so beautiful." He whispered. "Stop calling yourself ugly. I love your body. Those stretch marks are beautiful to me, because they remind me that you carried my children. My children grew in there and you're beautiful." The tears came faster and harder. Here is this man, this wonderful, loving man, rubbing the body I hate. Looking at it, loving it. Why can't I just accept it for what it is?

To expose my belly in that way was terrifying. I didn't know how people would react. Would people be as repulsed as I was? All of the feedback was positive, except for one comment and of course, that was the one that stuck with me the most.

"your husband just wanted to get laid, why else would he say you are beautiful? Your stretch marks are hideous".

And that comment was exactly the reason why I had felt so ashamed. My body isn't what "Society" considers a beautiful body. It's hideous and repulsive. Sadly, I’ve bought into that lie.

I've always felt that I am alone, because my sister has had children and her belly doesn't look like mine. My cousins have had babies and they didn't get stretch marks.

That feeling of being the only woman to look this way has made me feel isolated. It has made me feel like I should be ashamed.

That is why I can not stop crying over this site, The Shape of a Mother. (Amalah send me the link this morning.) I'm sobbing over here. To know that I'm not a freak, that other women have experienced such changes in their body, to know that it's nothing to be ashamed of, even though society ("the media") tries to tell us differently is a powerful, powerful thing.

*Edited to add* (Shape of a Mother put up a post I wrote on November 2002. I thought I'd repost it here too.

Making peace with you, learning to love you is harder than I imagined it would be.

You gave me my beautiful children, my three beautiful children. It should be easy to love you for that reason alone. I do love you for that. I do.

But, my God, I hate you too.

I hate you because I am a slave to you. I hate you because there are so many things in life I've not been able to do because of the fears and insecurities I have about you.

Your sagging breasts embarrass me.

Your gaping hole of a belly button repulses me.

Your stretch marks humiliate me.

Your loose, hanging skin infuriates me.

The excess fat that you continue to hold onto so tightly angers me.

My husband loves you. He desires you. He thinks you're beautiful. Sexy, even. I don't understand how he can feel that way. I truly do not.

I want to feel the way he does about you. I want to love you. I want to love looking at you, or at the very least, not want to puke when I look at you.

It's hard to look at you without crying. Especially when I compare you to other, beautiful bodies. Or to the way you used to look.

You used to be so beautiful.

I know it's not fair to compare you to other women, or to your young self. But it's hard not to. Everywhere I look, I'm bombarded with images of bodies that look nothing like you. It's hard not to feel like a freak of nature when all of the images I see look so completely different than you. I once saw images that looked similar to you. It was a campaign for "real beauty" and I cried with joy and suddenly didn't feel like such a freak. But then? I heard people talking about how ugly those bodies looked and how they were repulsed by what they had seen, and how those women had NO business taking pictures in their underwear because no one wanted to see all of that and suddenly, my tears of joy turned once again to tears of shame and hatred towards you.

I've become more comfortable with "The Clothed You." I would have NEVER taken Aerobic Dance Class in the past because I would have been too ashamed and self conscience of my Lumpy Ass, or the Jiggly Arms. But after having shed a few pounds, I have learned to accept my Clothed Self.

But when the clothes come off, HATE HATE HATE what I see.

I'm tired of hating you, of fighting with you, of wishing you were different. So very tired of wasting all of my energy in that way.

I just wanted you to know that I don't want to hate you or be ashamed of you anymore, I'm just completely lost as to how to NOT feel this way anymore.

But I'm working on it. Be patient with me.

(I wrote this at 1am this morning. I've debated if I should post it or not because people get so damn angry at me when I write about my body, but if I let Angry People stop me from writing what I want to write, than I might as well shut this blog down because that's DUMB to censor myself based on what people will think.)

The one issue I've been completely honest with on this BALAWWWG is my weight/body image. I've always talked openly about my struggle with weight and hating my body (except for that "one time" when I let The Mean People win and swore I'd never talk about my weight again because I didn't like getting mail that said things like "put the hamburger down, quit whining and go to the gym, you fat ass whale.")

Look at me. Trying to be sexy with my saggy boobs. God. I remember when my boobs used to be "Up Where They Belong." Now, they don't even START until about "mid waist". Awesome.

My relationship with my body is a complicated one. It's one that few people understand.

Learning to love and accept my "after 3 kids and a huge weight loss" body isn't easy. There's not very much to love about it. Infact? I can't think of ONE reason to love it. Sad.

But I can think of so many reasons that I hate it. I could go on for hours.

Sagging boobs.
Loose skin.
Stretch marks. (Everywhere)
Jacked up belly button.
Veiny legs.
Hanging belly.

I have spent a great deal of time crying about the state of my body. I've spent a great deal of time wishing I had taken better care of it.

It's affected me in many areas of my life and the hatred and shame I associate with it has prevented me from doing many things in my life.

Things like taking a shower with my husband (who begs me on a regular basis to do so), get massages (I have to get naked? Pass.), going to the beach with friends (Shorts? Tank tops? SWIMSUITS? Pass.). The list goes on and on.

I've gotten much better about not letting my body hatred keep me from enjoying life, but there are still times where I feel completely uncomfortable and unable to enjoy life because of how I feel about my body.

Even in Aerobic dance class! (ha! ha! HA! You thought, "Finally, a post where she doesn't bring up Aerobic Dancing!") There are certain moves that I hold back on because I know if I shake TOO hard, thighs will start slapping together and ass cheeks will shake furiously, building into a tidal wave effect that could quite possibly knock the Old Hag behind me out cold. So, I hold back (and wear a sweat shirt around my waist, to minimize the Tidal Wave Effect.)

I've been having long, deep conversations with my body recently. I don't want to hate it anymore. I want to appreciate it, I want to accept it. It is what it is, you know? I can't go back in time and change it. (Well, technically, I can, you know, through a little thing called "plastic surgery" but a) I can't afford it b) I'm too chicken shit of needles and of things like BLEEDING TO DEATH FROM A BOTCHED TUMMY TUCK, Bonus: Have you SEEN Carol Burnett's face? :shudders:)

I feel as though I'm on the road to making peace with my body. I know I'll never like the way that it looks. I know I'll always feel insecure and ugly when I see a woman with a beautiful body, but I refuse to spend the rest of my life hating myself because of the body I live in.

While I don't think I could ever say things like "Goodmorning, oh very large, sagging breasts! How do I love you? Let me count the ways!" or "Hello, oh gapping hole of a belly button, it's SO GOOD to see you!"

However, I do feel like I can make peace with my body. Like I can come to terms with the way it looks, the way it feels and be "ok" with it. I may never love it, but maybe, just maybe, I can learn to appreciate it.

Remember how I told you that I couldn't think of ONE reason to love my body? As I wrote this post, I was able to come up with three reasons.

Andrew, Ethan and Gabriella.

How can I hate the very thing that gave me those beautiful children?

Life is short. And I've wasted enough time in my life hating my body.

For the first time in many, many years, maybe even in my entire life, I am starting to feel comfortable in my skin.

It's a choice I've made. It doesn't come naturally to me to love this body, especially since it's so torn up.

Saggy breasts, hanging skin, stretched out belly button, stretchmarks, cellulite, fat everywhere.

There's not much to love about it and I've spent a great deal of time being horribly ashamed of it.

I have avoided people and places because of it, I've made excuses why I can't go here or there because of this shame.

I've worked very hard to try to improve this body. I want it to be healthy, to be in shape and to last me a very long time. And that wasn't going to happen by hating it and not taking care of it.

Enough is enough, I said to myself and I kicked things up a notch. I started going to the gym 5 nights a week. I would have much rather stayed home, sat on the couch and watched TV with my family. Infact? Sometimes? I cry when I have to leave. I cry and I cuss about how much I hate having to work out when there are skinny bitches out there who can eat whatever they want and not get fat like me! I hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

I told myself I didn't have to like it, that it was ok to hate it, but it had to get done. I had to go to the gym, even when I didn't feel like it and that one day, it would pay off and that it would all be worth it.

Pounds started to fall off, clothes started to get bigger, inches were disappearing.

Then, the compliments started coming.

"You look great! What are you doing?"

"Are you losing weight?"

My Mother in law called me sexy. SEXY!

I can honestly say, the payoff has finally arrived and the payoff is this.

I no longer feel "Shame."

Infact? I actually feel proud of myself.

Is my body where I want it to be? No. I'm still overweight. There are still things I hate about it, there are things I will always hate about it, but, I am not ashamed of it.

I've worked so damn hard to get where I am at and I am allowing myself to take pride in my accomplishments. I don't usually allow myself to do that, because, I don't feel I have much to be proud of. But, you know what? I could have very easily not done anything about my weight because DAMN IT, it is overwhelming and it's hard to imagine ever getting to where you want to be when you're over 200 pounds. I felt hopeless and unable to do it. I would find myself so envious of people who were losing weight. I didn't think I had it in me to do what they had done.

If there is anyone out there who feels that way, let me tell you, I know how that feels. Oh my God, I know. I remember feeling like throwing up at the thought of going to the gym because I was so out of shape and Oh! How The Fit people would laugh at me. Then, I realized that it wasn't ABOUT ANYONE ELSE BUT MYSELF.

I had to stop caring about what I loooked like at the gym. It didn't matter, I was there for my health, and that wasn't anything to be ashamed of.

I finally, FINALLY realized that I was worth the effort.

Now, I find myself taking dance class 3 times a week. Me! In dance class. I'll never forget the first time I took it. It happened by accident that I ended up in that class, and when the instructor said "Tonight, I teach hip hop" I headed for the door. Hell to the no on THAT. But there was a lady there who convinced me to stay. "It's fun! And who cares if you mess up? Just relax and enjoy it."

"But! I have no rhythm! And my ass! It will shake! And my boobs, dear GOD, my boobs!"

Then, I took a deep breath and said to myself "You're here to burn calories and lose weight, not to be a dancer. JUST DO IT."

Now, I go every week, three times and just last week, the instructor pulled me and my cousin aside and said "You two are the best students I have. I can't explain it, but having you in my class is a joy, you make me very happy."

Yeah. I cried and let me tell you why. In the past, I wouldn't have even tried it for fear of looking stupid, or messing up, or thinking I couldn't do it because I was fat and I suck. But, I didn't give into that negativity and I just freaking did it. Now, I love it and it shows, because my dance makes people happy.

Ha! Ha! Haaaaaaaa!

I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore, but I know I'm getting more excited as I type and I want to tell every person out there who wants to lose weight but is feeling hopeless to please, PLEASE, stop listening to the lies that you can't do it, or that you're not worth it, or that you can never reach your goal.

You can and you will, you just have to decide that you're worth it.

Who do I think I am? A motivational speaker or something? God.

The Cheese. It lives.

Everytime post pictures my weight loss (or lack thereof, lately), I'm always wearing my "fat pants".

The obvious reason that I take my "progress" pictures in those ugly pants is for the dramatic effect. "Look how baggy these pants that once snuggled my ass now fit me!"

But, as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me likes that I can hide my current body behind those big, baggy pants. The truth is, I still have a great deal of weight to lose, and while I'm proud of the progress I've made, I'm somewhat ashamed that, 15 months after having given birth, I'm still THIS overweight. And, seriously, the way my ass "POPS"? A LITTLE embarassing. (I wasn't lying when I said it needs own social security number.)

A few people have said things like "there's no way you still have 45 pounds to lose!" And, as much as I wish it were true, the fact is that The Fat is very well hidden in The Fat Pants.

So, today, in the tradition of "keepin' it real" around here, I will expose The Truth of The Fat for all of The Internet (and by "all" I mean the few people who still read this!) to see.

(I'm actually shaking a little as I upload because OMG! You're going to see The Truth. Can you handle The Truth?)

Here's the thing...

When I write about my weight, I am speaking of how I feel about MYSELF ONLY.

I have always struggled with self hatred and insecurities. When I say things like "I'm fat and gross" I am not saying that I FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE WHO ARE OVERWEIGHT.

I am talking about the feelings I have towards myself. The past few days have been really rough emotionally for me. I'm sorry if my brutal honestly about how I feel inside offends you, but it's not about you.

These are my issues, these are my struggles, these are my problems. And YES, I know it hurts people who love me, especially my husband. But I'm not TRYING to hurt people. I'm trying to work through my self hatred, I'm done trying to figure out WHY I am this way, I don't give a shit WHY anymore, I only care to NOT BE THIS WAY anymore.

Writing here helps me do that.

I honestly believe a HUGE reason that I've been feeling this way recently is hormonal. My periods have been irregular, extremely heavy and very painful. I believe that something is happening inside of my body that isn't "right". I feel so awful all of the time and I hardly am able to sleep. I'm worn out and that is contributing to my emotional state.

I just wish people could try to understand where I'm coming from. I'm actually a happy, fun loving person. I just have these voices in my head (satan, perhaps?) that want me to believe ugly things about myself. If that pisses you off, that I struggle with these things? I don't know what to say.

(this concludes any FURTHER TALK ABOUT MY ISSUES, I'M ALL ISSUED OUT. From now on, it's farts, 'gineys and reality tv. Ok? OK!)

I've been extremely open and honest about my struggle with The Fat.

In doing so, I've recieved a tremendous amount of support. I feel like I have my own cheerleading team, rooting me on every step of the way. And when I fail, or hit a bump in the road, people here "pick me up" and help me find my way again. It's been an awesome experience.

But, with the good, there's been some bad. Some very VERY bad. People have said cruel, horrificly mean things to me.

Things like "your husband just wanted to get laid, why else would he say you are beautiful? your stretchmarks are hideous".

And "Go on a freakin diet already and quit bithin about it. I am a lurker. You have done nothing to control the problem. DO somethin and if it doesn't work, then gripe. Geez Louise Otherwise Just accept it. Quit tryin to get attention about it. It's your choice. BE FAT or NOT BE FAT. Everyone has a little control of their own destiny."

And then there was the time someone left a comment on Flickr about my 11 month old daughter that say "She's going to grow up to have a fat ass just like her mother."

There are quite a few more that I have saved in my "inbox", and not all of them are as "nice". I save all of them because they give me fuel. Fuel to lose this damn weight. Fuel to give a big ol' "Fuck you" to the mean and nasty people who hate me because of the size of my ass.

However, there are days where I read those things, where I read other things that people say about fat people and I cry like a BIG FAT BABY.

And I ask myself "Don't people realise WHY I call myself a HIPPO?? Don't they understand it has absolutely nothing to do with "how I feel about fat people in general" and EVERYTHING to do with me wanting to "beat people to the punch."

See, if I say I'm a big fat hippo, then what can the mean, cruel people say to me that can hurt me? I BEAT THEM TO IT! I hurt me first and so, when they send me emails, or leave me comments trying to insult or injure me, I can point and say "Ha! That didn't hurt! I already KNOW I'm a disgusting, fat, ugly, repulsive HIPPO! SO TAKE THAT, ASSHOLE!"

Even though the truth is that deep down inside? It does hurt knowing that people hate me, or that I disgust people, or that people think I'm nothing more than a lazy pig, or that when I walk in front of people, they shake their heads in disgust and wish they could tell me to "put down the chips and hit the gym, you fat pig!"

Even after losing a big chunk of weight and a few dress sizes, I know that there are people out there who still view me as all of the horrible things I just said. And that makes me sad. Not just for myself, but for the millions of other women just like me. Incredibly beautiful, amazing, kind, funny, selfless, strong women with so many things to offer the world are viewed as nothing more than "The Fat Girl" by a great deal of people.

I don't even know where I'm going with this anymore.

A hundred thoughts are swirling through my head right now. When I read the thread about Liv Tyler and all of the horribly mean, cruel things people were saying about her BASED ON HER WEIGHT, I broke down. And yes, I broke down because I'M FAT and? Because I have to make everything about ME.

I already know people are going to take this post out of context, tell me to quit bitching, tell me to quit looking for approval on the internet, tell me that "I'm not fat!", tell me to love myself no matter what, tell me "who cares what other people think!", tell me "I thought you didn't CARE what people think about you!" and so on and so forth.

Fine. Whatever. So be it.

This is such a complex, emotional, frustrating issue for me and sometimes, the best way for me to deal is to write it, to blabber on and on about it, to cry about it, to get pissed about it, to feel sorry for myself about it, but ultimately, to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.

Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about the Dickheads who judge people solely on how fat/thin they are and whether or not "they'd hit it".

I've added yet another photo to the The Shrinking Woman set on Flickr.

I should shutup about my weight already, but it's such a huge part of my life and what I'm dealing with right now, that I can't. Having this public forum to write about it, to post pictures of it and yes, to get encouragement and feedback about it has been insturmental in keeping me from giving up.

And trust me, I want to give up. Especially after last night.

Last night, I was "re-measured" at the gym and it wasn't good. She took away the three and a half inches I was originally told I lost, because it was only showing as 3 inches and then, she decided that she was only going to give me ONE INCH. She says I have a "natural curve" (see :"spare tire") and it's hard to get an accurate measurement. Talk about a let down. And talk about wanting to say "fuck it all to hell I'm eating a cinnabon and refuse to spend another fucking minute at the stupid, worthless gym!"

In the past? When I was "skinny" and when I would lose lots of weight in short amounts of time? I would do it the unhealthy way. I'd take buttloads of diet pills. I'd starve myself. I'd take boxes of laxatives. I'd do whatever it took to get skinny.

I don't want to do that this time because I don't want to die at 40. I want to be thin and attractive, but, at the same time, I don't want to die or get sick trying to achieve that goal.

However, after a year of trying, I'm getting pissed off to the point of wanting to just stop. I'm crying as I type this, that's how pissed off I am. I look at the pictures and I know that it definitely is coming off, but IT'S TAKING SO DAMN LONG AND I DON'T THINK I CAN KEEP DOING THIS ANYMORE.

I won't give up. I refuse to give up, but I WANT TO. I'm sick of being the fat girl. I'm sick of being ashamed. I'm sick of my thighs rub together. I'm sick of a roll of fat jiggling up and down when I walk. I'm sick of telling my husband "HELL NO I won't take a shower with you because I'm so embarrassed and so ugly and I'll cry the whole time because of how ugly my body is and HOW DO YOU NOT THROW UP WHEN YOU LOOK AT ME?"

And? I'm sick of working my ass off and seeing such SLOW results.

I'm pissed off today and not feeling very positive about this whole weight loss journey.

My First Night Out With a Friend post Gabby was awesome.

Jamie Kennedy is hilarious and I could easily fall in love with him if it weren't for the fact that he looks EXACTLY like my littlest brother. And when I say "exactly" I mean "exactly".

The comedian who opened the show, Tom Segura, was extremely funny. I've added him to the Short List of comedians I love. He should feel special.

I missed Gabby and the boys, but I didn't call 20396 times to check on them like I thought I would. I only called ONCE! And that picture wasn't even set up! It was completely real and sincere!

The night was not without Suckage, but nothing serious. The biggest suck of all was the second comedian. Oh, it was painful. I felt sorry for him, man. The funniest suck was what I like to call The All Time Greatest Squish The Foam moment in history. My friend who L-O-V-E-S her some hot wings, ordered a plate of hot wings for dinner. Well, imagine the HORROR when the waitress came back with the order and set THIS on the table.

ARE THEY SERIOUS? Four wings and 2 token celery strips? She was pissed. I was laughing.

"SQUISH THE FOAM! YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!"

She didn't "squish the foam" but she did inform the waitress that they need to "put that on the menu" ("that" meaning "$7.95 only buys you FOUR WINGS!)

I did have my first taste of Devil Water since finding out I was pregnant in 2003.

As you can see, that made me happy.

You know what else made me happy?

That I didn't let The Fat win. That I'm no longer letting The Fat control me. The "old me" would never have left this house to go out and have fun because "I'm fat and I have nothing to wear and all the skinny hot people will throw up when they see me" (And trust me people, skinny, hot people LOVE to go to the Improv and MAN do they love to show off their fake boobs and artificial tans.) But the New and Improved me refuses to NOT LIVE MY LIFE because of my weight. Instead of being ashamed of how I look and my size, I choose to be proud of myself for how hard I've worked to lose 55 pounds. Yeah, I still have 50 more to go, but I choose focus on how far I've come rather than how far I have to go.

I realize there will still be people who look down on me because of my size, but for the first time in a long time, I also realize that they can fuck off because this isn't about other people. This is about me living my life to the fullest, no matter what size I wear. I'm so over obsessing about what others will think about me and the size of my ass. Life is too damn short for that nonsense. (but if we're talking about going to the beach, or any place where a swimsuit must be worn, that's not considered "nonsense" because HELL NO am I ready to display my ass at the beach yet.)

It probably sounds stupid to most people, but to me? It's a change of life. I've had such a screwed up way of thinking and I'm working hard to change it.

I've always believed for some fucked up reason that I can't do things other people do. Things I want to do? I don't even try because "I'm too fat." "I'm too slow". "I can't afford it." "I'm not good enough."

What a sad way to go through life. Not even trying for fear of failing. For fear of "looking stupid". For fear of "what will people think."

To believe you can't just because you're you.

Well, last night really opened my eyes to so many things. I'm sick of the time I've wasted with that bullshit. So, in honor of trying things I've always wanted to do but didn't because I think I suck too much to succeed? I called Authur Murray dance studios to get information about Salsa lessons.

That's right, I want to learn to dance Salsa and I'm GOING to learn how to dance Salsa.

Turns out, this was so much more than "A night out" for me, it was a, how does Dr.Phil say it? "A defining moment in my life".

Yesterday, I decided to join yet ANOTHER gym.

It's what I like to call a "Generic Curves."

It's called "Slim and Tone" or, like the big, red letters that light up says "30 minute workout for wimmims".

You see, my friend "won" a "30 day free membership" in a "random drawing." Which is SO FUNNY and totally NOT a coincidence that I had "won" a "30 day" "free" "membership" a month earlier. I didn't "cash in" on my "prize" because I'm a "flake."

It's a total scam, because, you have to make an appointment with a "trainer" for your first visit, and after they teach you how everything works, some chick sits down to tell you about the program and then BAM! Out of nowhere, they're all "Normally, we charge THIS amount, but if you join RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE we'll only charge you THIS much!"

Suddenly, it doesn't feel like a "free" anything, but more like "HAHAH SUCKAAAAAAAAHHHHS, WE GOT YOU BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU LOVED IT AND WANT TO JOIN NOW."

Lucky for them, I'm really fat and desperate. My friend, however, is not at all fat, but she wants to tone up. If I wasn't fat and desperate, I would have stood up and shouted "You're all a bunch of scheming LIAAAARRSSSSS" instead of running to the car to get my checkbook and think of a way to tell Tony "Hey, guess what? I joined ANOTHER gym!" without him revoking my "get out of the house free before cooking dinner, woman" card.

Tonight we went and did our first official workout.

The first 5 minutes was all fun and games to me.

"hahaha my boobs are bouncing!"

"hahahaha MY THIGHS!"

"hahaha It's the chicken dance song!"

"hahahhaa I'm taking my pulse!"

But DAMN. It stopped being funny real quick. I became painfully aware of the fact that "OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO THIS FOR, LIKE, MONTHS BEFORE THERE ARE ANY RESULTS!"

I also became aware of the fact that bouncing boobs start hurting after a few trips to the face and back and? Having to HOLD THEM DOWN with your hands whilst jumping up and down is slightly humiliating.

I say "slightly" because the truth is I have no dignity. I've dry humped a roll of carpet in front of a group of people to get a laugh, people. Flapping tits isn't really that big of a deal.

We'll see how this goes, but hopefully with the support of a friend who I know will NOT LET ME FLAKE AND MAKE UP STUPID EXCUSES that I will lose this freaking weight and these excess inches. (Because HOLY SHIZNIT, they took my measurements and, well, how can I put this. Um, ok... My waist is bigger than Tony's. I won't tell you the number, but I'll give you a hint. It rhymes with "shorty".)

"Stop" he said, as I pulled my shirt down to cover my stomach. "Let me see!" He pleaded.

"No. It's disgusting. I'm embarassed."

He gently moved my hand away and whispered "Baby, stop saying that. You're beautiful."

Once again, he slowly begin to lift my shirt, exposing my belly.

Shame and disgust is what I felt as I laid there, tears running down my face.

His hands gently stroked my belly, as he looked at it. "You're so beautiful." He whispered. "Stop calling yourself ugly. I love your body. Those stretch marks are beautiful to me, because they remind me that you carried my children. My children grew in there and you're beautiful."

The tears came faster and harder. Here is this man, this wonderful, loving man, rubbing the body I hate. Looking at it, loving it. Why can't I just accept it for what it is?

That's why.

I know he's being sincere, but I can't comprehend how he can find beauty in something so horrific.

I wish that I could see myself through his eyes. I wish that as he caressed my stomach and told me how much he loved me and how beautiful I am to him, that I could have closed my eyes, smiled and taken in the love that was being lavished on my body. Instead, I cringed in shame and I cried.

I don't want to cry about this body anymore. I want to accept it for what it has become and not long for it to look like it once did.

How do I do that? How is that possible when I am covered with stretch marks and fat and sagging skin? How can I ever look past that to see the beauty within? I try, I really do, because I'm sick of talking about myself in such a disgusting manner, but it's hard when I look in the mirror and see what I see.

I need to make peace with this, so that I can fully accept the love from my husband that he is so willing to give, I just don't know how to do it.

*(Campaign for REAL beauty. Thank God for this, and it's about damn time)

2005.06.09 09:14:58 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:20:33 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:44:47 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:46:13 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'
2005.06.09 09:59:25 67.167.22.85 Search: query for 'fat'

Well, hi there person searching for "fat"!

Since you brought it up...

Yes. I'm fat.

I haven't always been fat, infact, there was a time where I was rather thin, but for the most part, I've always been "Just right".

Problem was, I've always THOUGHT I was fat, even when, in reality, I wasn't.

I'd starve myself, I'd take laxatives, I'd exercise excessively, I'd take diet pills all in an effort to not be fat anymore, so I'd stop hating myself and what I saw in the mirror.

People would tell me I was crazy, that I wasn't fat, but I thought they were lying.

I'd cry a lot, because I hated how I looked.

Now, at 33 years old, I know what it feels like to truly BE fat. Not just THINK I am. I can no longer fit in the size 9 jeans I used to curse. I can't even fit in the size 14 jeans I would cry about.

I don't like this body I'm living in now, infact? I hate it, however, I'm learning to not base my worth as a human being on this body. I want to lose weight, because I want to be healthy and fit. I want the aches and joint pain to stop. I want the thighs to stop rubbing together so as not to start forest fires in the heat, if you catch my drift.

In the past, I made the huge mistake of not enjoying life because of my weight. I'd turn down invitations, I'd lie to get out of seeing people, I'd make excuses and promises of "next time!"

I don't do that anymore, because I realize that I'm only cheating myself and the ones I love out of memories that we will cherish as we grow older. I never want to miss out on another memory. However, I don't enjoy the experience as much as I could because I have shame and embarrassment about the weight.

I'm working on losing the weight, but this time, I am trying to do it "the right way". I'm doing it slowly, taking small steps (as Joelle always says) and I'm working on The Inside as well.

I used to talk about it alot here, but I've stopped doing that. People can be cruel, people can be judgemental and many times when I'd write about my weight, I felt like I was misunderstood.

I hate being misunderstood.

I've made some progress, since giving birth to my third child, not as much as I'd hoped to have made in 10 months, but it's STILL progress and I'm proud of myself for how far I've come.

Last night, I casually mentioned to Tony that I was having second thoughts about going to his company picnic.

The reason?

I don't want to embarrass him.

"What are you talking about? Why would you embarass me?" He asked.

"Come on, I'm sure you're going to be embarassed to introduce your coworkers to your giant, fat wife."

Then, I started crying. And apologizing, you know, for being fat.

He got so mad. PISSED, even.

"Why do you say things like that? I love you and I'll never be ashamed of you. You're the mother of my children."

I know he means it and I feel bad for upsetting him, but I honestly feel like a part of him is ashamed of me.

Not because he makes me feel that way.

Not because he's ever given me any reason to think that way.

He hasn't.

He's never once told me I need to lose weight, or made comments about my weight.

So, why is there a part of me that believes he feels that way? Why am I dreading the moment he introduces me to the people he works with?

I feel like I should make a tshirt with a picture of me when we first met. "I USED TO BE CUTE!"

That way, they won't be all "What in the hell does he see in HER."

That's how I feel, I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that Tony is upset that I feel that way, but I can't change it.

I'm disgusted with myself right now. And not because I'm fat.

Because I have been given this incredible gift. A husband who loves me no matter what, and because of my own insecurities, I can't fully accept that gift...

I know, I know, stop being emotional and drink some freaking milk already.

People often tell me I'm too hard on myself.

I'm not quite sure what that even means. When I say things about myself that aren't very nice, I am just saying that which I know to be true.

I've been upset about my ability, motivation and dedication to lose this weight. I have this "why even bother" attitude, which is only contributing to the problem.

"Why even bother eating a salad instead of a burger, you'll never lose this weight anyway, so...JUST EAT THE BURGER!!"

What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I doing this to myself over and over again?

Today I decided it was time to "get real". Again. For the 239858th time. I can't give up on myself. I want to live a long life and? I want to be cute again. Is that ok with you?

I had my son take my picture a few minutes ago. I wasn't happy with what I saw, infact, I was kind of pissed. My husband pointed out that I look NOTHING like I did in the picture I took of myself in October and told me I should look at how far I've come, not how far I have to go...

Recently, I've run into several people that I hadn't seen in quite a while. All of their reactions were exactly the same.

"I didn't even recognize you"

And each time, I said the same thing.

"Of course you didn't, I'm FAT. I don't even recognize myself sometimes"

Judging by their reactions, it's not ok to be honest. "Noooo, that's not it. It's... it's... it's..."

"I'm fat. Last time you saw me, I wasn't fat!"

"Well, no, um, well, uh..."

DAMN IT. Why can't people just be honest and say "Well, yeah. You are. But I STILL LOVE YOU!"

It's not like I'm saying "Well, because I'm an axe-murdering prostitute and last time you saw me, I wasn't an axe-murdering prostitute!"

I'm saying THE TRUTH.

If I was 140 pounds the last time you saw me and I'm now 200 pounds, well... that's PROBABLY why you don't recognize me.

You read that right, I'm 200 pounds. Let's go ahead and get that out in the open and out of the way right now.

My daughter is 7 months, I have ONLY LOST 50 pounds.

Basically? I suck and am failing big time with my weight loss. Remember when I was kicking much ass with my weight loss and I was all "I've changed and I'm GOING TO DO THIS!"? Umm, yeah. Here we are in MARCH and I've only lost another 9 since then.

Suck. Fail. Suck.

I'm ashamed. I'm embarassed. I'm disgusted with myself. What else is new? Yawn. At least I'm honest about it.

So, when I run into people, and they're all "I didn't recognize you." I can't help but answering with "Well DUH, I'M FAT AND STOP ACTING LIKE THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU MEANT."

It annoys me. Why can't people be honest about it? I know, they feel bad, but please?! Stop with the "No, you're not fat. You just had a baby."

STOP IT. I did NOT just have a baby. I had a baby SEVEN MONTHS AGO.

Just fucking stop it.

People are just trying to be nice, I suppose. But it's not nice. It's... I don't know what it is, but I wish people would just stop.

The moral of this story?

If you should ever see me in public and I say "Hi! I'm Y and I'm fat!" Just say "Yes, yes you are".

Since I started Weight Watchers today, I thought today would be a good day to take my "before" picture.

I'm sick to my stomach right now. I have not seen a picture of myself at this weight, and even though I see myself in the mirror everyday, it's totally different looking at yourself on film (at least I think so). It gives you a different perspective of what you look like. Andrew snapped a couple pictures and I just uploaded them. What I see on my computer screen right now is hard for me to look at. I think I'm fatter than my mother. I swore to myself I would NEVER let myself get fat like my mom.

I started going through some old pictures and it's very clear to me how sick and twisted I have been about my body in the past. I have ALWAYS seen myself as fat. Even when I was 125 pounds. The truth is, I've always been big in the ass and legs, but I was not fat. Now? I'm a fat lady and I can't stand it. I hate it.

I'm going to do something I'll probably regret. I'm going to post a picture of what I looked like 2 years ago at this time of the year, what I looked like last year at this time and what I look like this very minute. I am sure I'm only opening myself up for ridicule, I'm sure people will mock me and laugh at me, but I imagine people do that everyday when they see me in real life anyway. I just think I need to expose myself so that when I talk about my weight, no one can say "Oh, you're not FAT!" or "You just had a baby."

No, people. I'm fat. Really fat and I think you need to see it. I mean, I think *I* need you to see it.

I don't plan on staying this way for long, but I hope I can get through these next few months without hiding away from the world.

Here goes...

I had to go to the district office this morning to take care of some health insurance business. As I was walking down the hall, I could feel my ass moving and shaking and I thought to myself, "My ass has evolved into it's own person."

I do believe my ass needs it's own name and social security number. I imagine as I'm walking, the people behind me are waving at it, winking at it, maybe laughing at it or flipping it off, or perhaps they're thinking "Damn, ass, you need to lose some weight, it's not good for your heart to be that big."

I believe it has it's even got its own personality. It's carefree and likes to live life on the edge. It has good days and bad days. It has feelings.

My ass. The individual.

I really need to give it a name.

Sunshine?

"Good morning, Sunshine."

Yeah, I like that.

Deb had a very good idea. She said I should pick one goal that I'm willing to share each month and update my progress on that goal. That's what I'm going to do.

Monday I started doing Weight Watchers again, but today I actually went and joined. I am going to share with you something very personal and pretty fucking embarassing to me, I will show you my first weigh in and every Wednesday I will post my new #'s. Hopefully the fact others are tracking my progress will help keep me motivated and accountable.

Ok, are you ready. (And just so you know, this is exactly how much I weighed when I was 9months pregnant with my first son. UGH!

So, I started Weight Watchers yesterday and so far, so good.

I'm feeling strong, I'm feeling like I can do this, hell, I want to do this. Everythings going my way, right?

Well...

Tony walks in the door and I open up the bag he brought back from the market and what do my eyes see???

If I wasn't fat, I'd go to the beach today and enjoy the sunshine and the cool breeze.

If I wasn't fat, I'd go shopping and buy myself some sundresses, shorts and tank tops.

If I wasn't fat I'd buy season passes to Raging waters.

If I wasn't fat, I'd go to a spa and have my body rubbed down with salt scrub and get a full body massage.

If I wasn't fat I'd call friends and go dancing tonight.

If I wasn't fat, I'd enjoy my life so much more.

It's my fault I'm this way, milkshakes are good but they're the reason I am not going to enjoy my summer.

Why the hell won't I stop putting that kind of shit into my body and eat what's good for me so I can be comfortable and healthy again?

I weigh as much now as I did when I was 9 months pregnant. You'd think that would stop me from making milkshakes, but it doesn't...

I've thought about having my jaw wired shut, but I could still drink milkshakes, so what would be the point?

Weight issues suck. I've always had them, but I've never let myself get this heavy, ever. I'd always do something drastic, like starve myself or take laxatives, as soon as I'd put on a few pounds. But I have no desire to do those kinds of things now.

Perhaps my next step to getting better is to see my doctor about eating disorders. Or I could just join Weight Watchers tomorrow.

Sigh... Why can't I be one of those bitches who can eat whatever they want and stay thin?

When I read things like this, is when I realize the saying "it's what's on the inside that counts" is bullshit! I mean, it sounds really great, and it should be the case, but the reality is, it isn't.

We will always be judged on our appearance. ALWAYS.

I wonder if my husband thinks those kinds of thoughts about me. Is he ashamed to be seen with me in public? After all, I am 55 pounds heavier then when he married me and I can totally understand him being turned off by that. This isn't the package he got when he said "I do."

But at the same time, that pisses me off. I am the same person, I make him laugh, I had his children, I have been there for him through so many things. He says he thinks I'm beautiful, he still loves me, but I secretly wonder if he doesn't mean it and is ashamed of me.

In societys eyes, I am ugly. I am fat, I have wrinkles, I have saggy tits, stretch marks, etc, but people tell me I'm beautiful. I want to believe it, but I know the reality. Most people can't look past the outside to see what's on the inside and it breaks my heart. It really does.

I can't blame one for not being attracted to someone anymore if they've put on a lot of weight or let themselves go drastically, but to think that the man I love was ashamed of me would break my heart into a thousand pieces.

I hate what I see when I look in the mirror. I don't even feel comfortable in my own skin. I took a picture because I plan on losing this weight, getting back in shape and I don't ever want to forget how horrid I feel at this very moment.