OVERWEIGHT PART ONE

I may not be able to bring you some outstanding witty posts right now but I can bring you some of my own personal writing. I have mentioned on many occasions that blogging helps me feel better so I am taking a selfish stand to do exactly that.

My being over weight causes me a great deal of emotional and mental confusion. I was a chubby child. As I grew from being a school girl to a young lady the need to feel self obsessed was not there. Have I always had an issue with body image? Yes. Do I have an ongoing destructive relationship with food? Yes. Do I have psychological issues with food and myself? Yes. Have I repeatedly tried to beat all this down? Yes, yes, yes. 

Some of you might know my weight has yo yo’d over the years. The bottom line in all this is that I hate myself. I feel tremendous amounts of guilt for the things I have done, said and how I have behaved and how I have treated people. People that love me the most. I have a fantastic defence system in place to protect me from being hurt, to stop me from being seen as vulnerable and weak. I have only recently acknowledged I really do suffer with depression and more so anxiety. 

My defences protect me from showing these facts. I have spent a lot of time acting to people that I am ok and I am happy and nothing seems to bother me. Many people may have seen right through this and some might have picked up on something not being quite right with me, thus making them wary of me. But for me I felt I did a pretty good job at pretending I was something I really was not.

So having all this newly acquired self awareness should help me tackle my ever increasing weight. You would think. However, looking at my own self has caused some much more sadness and guilt. The process takes time and I am currently working through it all.

Looking back at how it all started was not too much fun so I will skim over it. I was not really aware of what I looked like as a teenager, nor did I care too much. I didn’t spend much time putting on make up and making a statement with my clothes. I used to shop lift a lot of make up as a child but sold that on to others that always seemed to look nice. 

I only really became more aware when I was working in the salon. I was faced daily with mirrors, mirrors that showed every part of my weight problem looking back at me.  I was moaned at daily for not wearing enough make up and so I did start to pay attention. I had my hair colour and style changed and I did lose weight. I had a boyfriend at this point so I was fairly comfortable with myself. 

some family members might remember attending my wedding to this ‘man’ as real names are not an option today I think we should rename him as, cockjugglingthunderc*nt.

So..married – baby – divorce – cervical cancer scare – meeting new man- giving up smoking- married- baby- happy-divorce- alone- single- relationship- single – relationship-single- alone…

My weight has often reflected what has been going on in my life. My happiness I guess you could say.

So here I am alone and so far away from bothering with any romance it's unreal. I figured I would work on making me better before I tried to fix any one new I meet. ( another fantastic quality I have to feel great about myself)

I hate shopping, mainly as looking in the mirror at myself makes me feel so shit I want to cry. I hate being naked. I hate how I see myself. I worry about what people think when they see me. I worry what my children think; I worry what my children’s friends think. I worry I embarrassed my children. I worry what my family think. I worry I will be judged. The idea that, I am just simply a lazy bastard that sits around eating, is going through someone else’s mind is embarrassing and causes me shame. Shame as it at times, is true.

I can’t justify it at all. We all like a bit of TV and some comfort food. I could be doing other things that are not damaging to my physical and mental health. Sometimes lifting myself up to do that is not so easy and some times it feels more natural to be active and busy.  Having more lazy days than active days seems to happen more over the winter months.

My guilt and shame pull me back under. I become a hermit. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be seen. I don’t want anyone to know.

I am going to stop and post before I delete the whole page of writing.