I can’t figure out which is more painful.
My left nipple or the fact that Gabby finally figured out how to pull herself up and stand in her crib.
While the nipple hurts pretty freaking bad, the fact that Gabby can now STAND UP IN HER CRIB hurts a little more, I think.
Why does your nipple hurt? You ask.
Oh, well, because I had to STICK A NEEDLE IN IT to unclog a milk ducts. And after I STUCK A NEEDLE IN IT, I had to take a hot shower and squeeze that nipple really hard to make sure that sticking a needle in it had unclogged the duct.
Oh mama.
Hurt.
Bad.
After hearing that, you’re probably all “Well of course that’s more painful than Gabby standing up in her crib!”
Physically, yes, it is.
But do you know how much it sucks that instead of taking a nap, she now stands up and screams “HAAAAAAAYYYYY MAMAMAMA HAAAAAYYYYY!” And she laughs this totally fake laugh as if she’s saying “HAHAHHA I CAN STAND! AND I CAN SEE YOU WHEN YOU WALK BY! AND YOU CAN NOT MAKE ME LAY DOWN! FOR HAHAHHAHA I CAN STAND!”
It’s only a matter of time before she figures out how to climb out of that crib, just like her big brothers did.
That, people, is painful to my heart. And to my “free time”.
You know what else is painful?
Having to stare at a half tray of brownies everytime I enter the kitchen. I can’t touch them, if I do, I’ll not be able to stop. My ass knows this and left a message for me.
So far, it’s working. I think it has something to do with the falling poop, I’m not sure. But MAN does it’s killing me to not eat one. But let’s focus on the positive… at least I don’t have to stick a needle in my ass to unclog it.
(p.s. there’s a very good chance that this post makes NO SENSE AT ALL, but, because I’m too busy crying about a)my nipple pain b) Gabby refusing to LAY HER ASS DOWN AND SLEEP c)brownies I have no desire to go back and edit it.)
Category Archives: Weight/body image
F-A-T
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”.
liar
Yesterday I was sharing my weight woes with my hair stylist. You see, she knew me before The Fat. She’s watched me become the fat. I was telling her that I’m trying desperatly to not let It (The Fat) keep me from doing things I want to do.
She stopped cutting my hair for a moment, looked right at me and said “Stop. You’re a beautiful woman, Y.”
Surely, she was lying to try to boost my spirits. Even though I know this woman is brutally honest.
“You’re just being nice, and I appreciate it, but…”
She looked upset.
“I’m being sincere, Y. You’re beautiful. You have amazing skin, beautiful eyes, a beautiful smile and a beautiful personality.”
I wanted to cry, but I fought back the tears and simply said “Thank you.”
Why can’t I believe it when someone says that to me?
When my husband tells me that, I tell him he HAS to say that because he’s my husband. And I know that’s terrible, to disregard his feelings like that, I KNOW IT, but I can’t fucking believe him.
WHY CAN’T I BELIEVE HIM? WHY WHY WHY WHY? Why do I think such horrible things about myself!? Why can’t I accept a compliment? Who taught me to dislike myself in this way? Where did I learn that from?
I once told a girl she was beautiful and she replied with “Thank you. And yes I am.”
It stunned me that she responded that way. What a stuck up bitch! At that moment, that’s exactly what I thought. How snotty of her. Now?
I envy her.
I envy her ability to believe good things about herself. I envy her ability to accept a compliment. I envy that she looks in the mirror and likes what she sees.
I just wish for once in my life, when someone says something positive about me, I could look them in the eye, say ‘thank you’ and believe in what they said to me.
I would give anything to know how that feels.
I WON!
I have a very sick relationship with food. EXTREMELY SICK. I’ve used food like a best friend, and in the process, I’ve made it my worst enemy.
Today Ben and Jerry’s had been taunting me. Had I listened to Dr.Phil, that junk wouldn’t even be in my freezer, but it was. I’ve been fighting with it all damn day. I tried will power, I tried sniffing it, hoping just the smell would be enough to satisfy the craving, I tried everything I could possibly think of to make me stop wanting it. I even did what Dr.Phil told me to do and went and took a damn shower, because Dr.Phil said after my shower, I’d forget about the ice cream and lose the craving.
Dr.Phil lied. I got out of the shower and went straight to the freezer. I got a spoon, I started eating. BUT THEN I GOT PISSED AT THE DAMN ICECREAM.
“WHY AM I LETTING YOU, OH SMALL CARTON OF FAT AND LUMPS, CONTROL ME?”
Then, I did the unthinkable. And I took photographic evidence of me doing the unthinkable.
Now you see it…
NOW YOU FREAKING DON’T.
That’s right, I washed that junk down the drain and ate a carrot instead.
I’M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!!
“Thanks, I got it at Mervyns”
I woke up looking like a freak of nature. I’m horrified and not quite sure how to fix this…
MY LEFT TIT GREW TWICE THE SIZE OF MY RIGHT ONE OVER NIGHT!
I thought if I fed Gabby on that side, it would eleviate it and help balance that shit out, but NO! It’s still totally bigger and you can see it when I put clothes on.
And Ethan has basketball practice today so I HAVE to go out in public.
I suppose I could stuff the other side with something for now, but if this doesn’t correct itself, I seriously am going to freak the fuck out.
(In case you were wondering about the shirt I’m sporting in that totally HOT self portrait? read this.)
Got Rolls?
Sorry, I’m not available.
No, that is not the greeting on my non existant cell phone, nor it is the greeting on my answering machine. THAT is what the shirt in the “big girls” section had written across the front. In sparkly letters.
Apparently, plus sized women like me want to make it sparkly clear to the everyone who walks past us that “we may be fat, but SO?! WE BE IN RELATIONSHIPS, BITCHES.”
Then there was the one next to it.
“Smile. It distracts people” (again, in sparkly letters) Yeah! Smile, it distracts people… FROM THE SIZE OF MY ASS.
Those were just two of the super lovely, totally hip choices.
And let’s talk about the few shirts that didn’t have sparkly messages plastered all over them.
Apparently? If you’re a size 16 and up? You need bows and fake flowers plasted all over your bossoms. You also totally need sequins. to compliment your enormous tits. SEQUENCE SEQUINS, BITCHES! And not just one row of it either. You need like, 4 or 5 rows of that shit.
Perhaps I’m being a WEE TINY BIT defensive here, but can’t a woman of my size get a mother fucking PLAIN COTTON TSHIRT? Why must I advertise that “I’m not available” Or that “I’m all that and a bag of chips” (shuttie!)
GOSH!
COOKAY!
***
I am going to fess up and admit to something that I am totally ashamed of with the hope that people will yell and scream at me, maybe even cuss me out and mock me so that you can help SAVE ME FROM WHAT IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE…
I just ate SIX HEATH BAR COOKIES.
SIX OF THEM.
And there are 5 more left. And I want to eat them, too. Because they are really REALLY good. And chewy with a hint of crispy. And sweet.
But they are also very FATTENING. And if I keep eating them, I hinder my really amazing weight loss, and I don’t want to do that.
BUT THEY ARE SO GOOD.
How good are they? So good that I just ATE SIX OF THEM. IN A ROW. WITHOUT STOPPING FOR AIR.
And yes, I really do struggle with food like this, and NO I am not exaggerating and YES, that is how I got so fat and NO I am not going to let this ONE EPISODE stop me from getting to my goal and YES I am a little bit screwed up in the head when it comes to food and NO, do not tell me I’ve never told you that before because YES I have.
Ah, there. I don’t want anymore cookies.
I love my blog.
Low FAT cheese
***
Since the Humiliating, Yet Very Much Needed Emotional Breakdown At The Weight Watchers Meeting, I’ve been kicking and burning much ass-age in the battle to lose 75 more pounds. It was some kind of a breakthrough for me. I realised how all of the stupid hangups that I have, all of the negative self talk, all of that nonsense was holding me back from reaching my goals. I’m letting all of that go, ALL OF IT.
Example… I went back to the gym. And I started doing weights. This is a big deal for me because in the past, when I’d put on weight, I wouldn’t go to the gym because I thought I WAS TOO FAT. Crazy, no? And then when I would go? I’d be too embarrassed to use the weights because I was afraid of how dumb I’d look as a fat girl trying to do weights. I finally realised how pathetic and binding that kind of mentality is. This is about ME, not about what other people think.
I’m trying really hard to not get all cheesy here, but I feel so liberated right now. Freed from years of negative feelings about myself and my body. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate the way I look right now, but the way I’m dealing with it is much different and entirely more healthy both physically and mentally. Instead of sitting on the couch with a bag of chips and dip crying “I am so fat and ugly and no one loves me because I’m a horrid monster” I’m at the gym, lifting weights, saying “You ARE fat, but you WILL lose it because you are worth it!!”
See? Cheese, but TRUTH cheese.
I’ve added the lastest picture. Ethan took it this morning. I am now 209 pounds, down from the 230 I was in the first picture. Yes, my face is still colored out, but you’ll see it’s only one black line this time, because it’s starting not to hurt to look at myself. Who knows, maybe next time I’ll just show my damn face.
DUH!
***
I heard Ethan’s bus coming down the street, so I thought I’d run out, hide behind the tree and scare him when he walked by. I waited, only to hear him yell “Mom, quit trying to hide! I can see you!”
I was confused. “How can he see me?” I thought, “I’m BEHIND THE TREE”
Then it hit me…
Misunderstood?
Rarely do I get upset over comments I get, even if the comments are mean or hurtful, but today I got a comment that really got to me.
Something I said in my last post came off as offensive, and I didn’t mean it that way. I said “Who cares what a fat girl thinks anyway?”
That comment does not reflect how I feel about fat people. That comment is a reflection of how I feel about myself and how I percieve people feel towards me.
The comment mentioned a post that was written a long time ago about fat people. Well, it was feelings as the ones stated in that post that make me say things like that. It’s no secret that there are people out there who look at someone like me and think bad things about me. They look down at me and see me as less of a person because I’m fat. That’s a truth that no one can deny and as strong as I try to be, somedays, I let that get to me. I am sorry, I’m HUMAN.
I won’t lie, I will never be comfortable being fat and I’ve NEVER said otherwise. I HAVE said that I will NEVER let it define who I am as a person ever again and I mean that. I’m trying, but it’s a struggle and if that makes me a bad person? Because I struggle with it? Well, there’s nothing I can do about that because I won’t lie about how I feel.
Obsessing over food is not something I do because I’m trying to lose weight, it’s been something I’ve done my entire LIFE. I’ve been very honest and open about my issues with weight here. Not everyone can understand because not everyone has eating disorders, not everyone’s mind is fucked up like mine is when it comes to food and weight. I have a problem and I’ve tried my entire life to figure out a way to not think the way I do about food.
I’m sorry if that would make anyone not like me as a person. I’m sorry if that makes people think less of me, I’m sorry if that pisses people off.
I would never judge someone because of their weight or how they look because I know how painful that is, I’ve been a victim of that kind of ridicule and judgement and I would never do that to another person. But guess what? I do it to myself. I put myself down, I talk badly to myself, I call myself a fat ass, I do all the things I hate that people do TO ME.
Why? I have no idea, maybe because it hurts less when I say it first. If I call myself a lazy fat ass, well, when the heartless bitch down the street says it, it doesn’t sting as much.
I’ve come very far in my life in the area of not caring what other people think, but this is my weakness, my weight. It always has been.
It’s never my intention to hurt other people when I write the things I write. I hope you believe me when I say that and I certainly don’t think badly about people who are overweight, ask anyone who knows me, I love people for who they are inside, for who they are as a person.
The problem? I have trouble practicing that kind of unconditional love on myself. I struggle with loving ME no matter what. I TRY. God knows I try, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.
I just feel so awful because I’ve NEVER given any thought to how I make others feel when I write the things I write about my weight.
I’ll end with this..Jen just said what I was trying to say, but couldn’t think of the right way to say it… I feel as though as a fat girl, I have no voice That’s what I meant by that. It was about ME, no one else.