Slap A Bitch

During all this time that I haven't blogged because I'm lazy for personal reasons, I have learned a few things about myself that I'd like to share.

1. "If there is food, I will eat it."

I hear this in my head throughout the day, with a Field of Dreams whisper - "If you cook it, Flabby will come." Truly. So now I have this weird baseball/Kevin Costner/food connection in my mind that just won't go away. I am now associating food with dead baseball players and corn fields. Lovely.

What I've learned, though, is not to buy snacky food and keep it in the house. Not for the husband, or the kid. They can all eat healthy right along with me - because if it's in the cupboard, I will eat it. Period.


2. Being fat colors every aspect of my life.

 Usually it's the color black. Anyway, I took my son to the movies Sunday for some mommy time. (I'm awesome. I know. That and I really wanted to see Real Steel again.) The whole time we were watching the movies, these horrible, awful , rotten teenage girls kept kicking my seat. I'm pretty sure they were using it for a footrest. It was extremely annoying, but I never said anything. The only, and I mean only reason I said nothing was this: I didn't want to hear her yell "fat bitch" at me. Or say anything that included the word fat in it. That is my singular fear at the moment. Being called fat when I stick up for myself. It plays out in my mind like this:

Me: Excuse me, could you stop kicking my chair please?

Stupid Teenage Girl: Shut up you fat bitch.

Then the scenario gets ugly because I punch her in the face and break her purty teeth. That part is fun to imagine.

You know you want to...

But it's sad I won't say anything because I'm scared of being called fat in public. Like they didn't already notice, because I wore my skinny jeans that day.

Whatever. The point is, I'm tired of being scared to live because of my weight. It's getting old, and the more I sit around at home, the fatter I'm gonna get.

Lessons learned.

My Motivation

I've been hearing a lot of talk lately about "What's your motivation?" So many people have all these great reasons like -

I want to be healthy.
I want to play with my kids.
I want to live to see my grandkids.
I want to share my wealth of knowledge with the world.
I want to inspire others.

Crap like that.

I have those reasons too. But for some reason, in my head - they're these vague, distant aspirations that don't fully seem real. They're not tangible for me. Most of my reasons to lose weight it's, well, - shallow.

1. I want to be the Pirate Slut at a Halloween party. And look good doing it.

oh yeah, baby.

2. If I don't come up with a decent "after" picture pretty soon, I'm going to look like an Internet idiot.

Wait, that can't be right....

3. I want to wear my thigh high boots again.

4. I want to wear just my thigh high boots again. (wink wink)

Yup. Like that.

5. I want to have some frickin' awesome 'how I did this" health advice that everyone comes to my blog to see.

6. Because I don't want to end up on one of these:

6. I want to be the girl that did it. That actually lost all that weight, all 160 pounds of it.

7. I want to be on the cover of magazines and on talk shows. I want even Oprah or Dr. Phil to be all like "Way to go, girl!".

It's up to YOU.

Ok, maybe that last one is going a bit too far. But that's my motivation list. I want so badly to cram my homemade apple crisp into my mouth by the literal handful, but I can't because I want that after picture. I need that after picture.

I want to be cool too.

Things I Hate Doing Because I'm Fat.

1. Taking Showers

I do. I'm not dirty, I'm not gross - I just hate trying to wash my back. And my ginormous thighs. I can't even reach my shoulder blades, and I don't like bending over to wash my feet. I just don't. It's freaking exhausting.

2. Walking

Because it's work. Duh. I sweat, I wheeze, and I don't like it.

3. Stairs.

My lord. Stairs. The bane of my existence. They make my knees hurt and my legs ache. Every house in America should have an elevator. But then we'd all be fat, and then what would Hollywood do? Jeez. Can't make everyone happy...

4. Getting into a boat. 

Have you ever tried it - while weighing 300 pounds? No? Go try it, then after you've dried off - you can blog about it too.

5. Amusement Parks.

I don't fit. Enough said.

6. Sitting in a booth.

Have you ever found a plus size booth? I didn't think so.

7. Sitting on the floor.

Because, let's face it - then I have to get back up.

8. Jumping or Running

I'm not sure if this is because I'm fat or my boobs are flippin' huge. Let me reassure you, it totally is possible to give yourself a black eye. With your boob. Really.

9. Pictures

They say the camera adds 10 pounds. It doesn't. It adds a hundred and fifty of them. I don't really look this large. Really.

10. Sex

Ok, I lied. I like sex as much as the next girl. But moving the belly flap out of the way to do it? Sad. Just sad. 

That's just the truth folks, with a little dash of sarcastic humor thrown in. Enjoy.

A Brutally Honest Portrait

I have been up all night. I woke up at 10 pm yesterday - just in time to say goodnight to my son.

I sat down to my computer and started playing my video game. My husband was watching some good old Star Trek:Voyager on Netflix. After a few hours of that, he went to bed. So I caught up on some season 7 of Grey's Anatomy while I continue playing my game.

At about 3am, I realize I am hungry. So I fry up an entire can of corn beef hash, and eat the whole thing. With ketchup. Yummy, but I'm sure I just ate 30 gazillion grams of fat, and I'm not going to bother thinking about the sodium. After this "breakfast" I dish myself up a bowl of Cookies N' Cream ice cream.

As I'm eating, I realize that all I've done for the last week is sit here at the computer. I haven't showered in about 5 days, and my head itches. I smell. I brushed my hair yesterday for the first time in about 2 weeks, and only because it was getting so ratty I couldn't get a rubber band around it. I actually brushed my teeth - yesterday morning. At this point they're fuzzy and yellow. I haven't shaved in a month or so. I can't find a bra because I haven't worn one in 10 days.  The couch has an indent where my butt goes, and I think I've actually broken a board or two in there because my fat tush sets lower than the rest of the couch.

This could be my hair. And I'm not even trying.

And I realize there is something seriously wrong with me.

I didn't think I was depressed. Maybe I am. I don't know anymore.

All I know is that I need to care. About me. Because I really, really don't give a damn about myself at the moment. There's no way I can trick myself into thinking I do care about myself, because when I look in the mirror and see greasy hair and yellow teeth - it's obvious.

When did I stop caring? When did I stop feeling like a woman? What the hell happened to my life?

My title warns you that this is a brutally honest picture of what I have become. It's time to really change that. It's noon now, and I'm going to take a shower, shave, brush my teeth (and my hair!) and get off the couch for a while.