Diary of a Fat Girl – Day 3
“There’s a skinny girl who lives inside me that’s trying to get out, but I can usually shut her up with cookies.” – plaque at Hobby Lobby
What a day to completely slip off of the band wagon. I received a call from my uncle last night demanding why I waste my money on the gym. He said that if I wasn’t losing the weight then it’s not working for me. I was irritated by this and felt I had to defend myself. I retorted back that I finally hooked up with a trainer and that I am now on the right track. But, secretly inside, a little voice had been screaming the same words to me.
If I am going to sabotage everything I worked so hard for, then why waste the money? I obviously don’t seem to care about getting pregnant as much as I think about it.
I just want to take a hammer to that little voice and smash it into pieces, and here I have my own uncle on the phone loudly stating the one thing I was fighting so hard to ignore. My conscious is now leaning back with her arms crossed over her chest nodding her head while trying not to maintain a smug look.
Where’s that hammer?
As you can tell, I didn’t exercise and I didn’t make much of an effort to control my portions let alone what I ate.
Breakfast for champions of the stone-age was a big bowl of Cocoa Pebbles with whole milk. I had realized after the spoon was halfway to my mouth that maybe I should have measured this one out.
Then I climbed back into bed next to my sleeping husband (Richie), dug out my laptop and typed stories for the rest of the day. When my husband woke from his midnight shift around two o’clock, I decided that it was a good time for lunch. I created a smoothie blend of strawberries, blueberries, whole milk and a teaspoon of raw sugar. It was delicious. However, was that too much whole milk in one day?
If I wanted to take things seriously, I needed a trip to the local organic food store. My list of vitamins, shampoos, and foods were getting long. I decided a shower was in order.
As I dressed down and looked in the mirror, I quickly glanced away from my own shame and embarrassment by what I had done to my body. The belly rolls and the cottage cheese thighs were among the most horrifying sight I had ever seen. Another look and I could see a dark line of hair below my belly button, tiny strands of hair circling my breast area, and a closer inspection revealed the ever present facial hair that years of laser therapy could not remove. I silently cursed my beloved Native American heritage for the dark hair and my Irish roots for the pale skin.
After my shower, Richie and I drove to Nature’s Bounty for some goods. As in each visit to this store, I was mesmerized by the abundance of organic wholesome foods available. I found crackers that were 100% whole grain with no wheat and gluten free. Pasta made from vegetables, organic cheeses with no hormonal additives or coloring, and the chasteberry vitamins that I needed to regulate my reproductive system.
Placing our goods into a cart, we headed to the counter to make our purchase. As the lady rang up our items, I glanced over and found some individually wrapped treasures in shiny green aluminum the size of York Peppermint Patties. I picked one up and on the back of it was a bar code sticker with the words Heavenly Organic. My curiosity peeked I continued to read and discovered that this peppermint candy was made of raw Himalayan honey, unsweetened chocolate and peppermint oil. Could it be true? Was there such a thing as chocolate with no sugar?
I decided to pick up a couple to try it. Heading back to the car, I delicately peeled the wrapper away from this exquisite dessert, and I took one savory bite. It was like sheer heaven in my mouth. My body exploded with joy as the chocolate slowly dissolved on my tongue and the minty honey danced on my taste buds.
How can one deny such great pleasures in life all for the sake of being healthy when pleasure tastes so good?
My tiny little conscious spoke up and said, “This is good for you in moderation.”
I put the hammer away and took another piece, then another, then another until I had eaten all five pieces.
Now, I hear that little voice and she’s screaming at the top of her lungs, again. My dinner and late night snack continued to fuel the fiery that she expressed. I got that hammer out and argued with her that dinner was subway and if Jared could lose weight on subway then I could too.
“Yes! However, Jared ate in moderation and you had the whole damn foot long, a bag of chips and enough sweet tea for two and half persons!”
Where does that half come from anyway? Why can’t they just round up or down to make an even number? I hate fragmented numbers.
“That’s not the point. You also had those crackers and cheese at ten o’clock in the evening. I don’t want to hear you complain about heartburn tonight!”
I shake the hammer at my little voice defending my 100% whole grain crackers and organic cheese.
“Moderation! Remember Moderation!” She screams back at me.
I’ll give you moderation! Maybe if I do an activity it would silence her, and then I could put the hammer away to get some sleep. Is sex considered an exercise, too?
Stacy N. Elliott 