This is a personal story of a girl who was once thin in her young barely there years and has slowly but surely, steadily with little to no thought, gotten fatter and fatter until her legs can not cross, her joints ache and she is beginning to awake and see the changes that must be reluctantly made. I am mad that I have to give up something I enjoy so much at all stages of my life and at all hours of my day, eating. I eat when I am happy, sad, bored, lonely, needy, and sick. I think of food first thing in the morning and last thing at night. I think of it in lieu of the sadness I feel in my heart for that lost girl of so long ago. I thought I was fat then, was told I was fat then but man, they should see me now! Fat was put into my head then and I grew into it. Should I be mad at them? Sad? Resigned? I have directed the anger at me as I have wrapped myself in this safe cocoon of fat. I am almost impenetrable. And if I am so hard to get into and through, why do I still submit to the urges and feelings that cause me to overeat?
I am going to talk my way into my head. This is me talking to me to figure out what went wrong and when and why. Who besides me, has hurt me so deeply that I need a layer of fat, a BIG layer of fat to insulate me? Why does everything from then still hurt now and why does the hurt from now continue to throb and blister so that food is my comfort. Sucks to be me tonight!
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