Diary of a Fat Girl – Day 5
Weight: 240 lbs.
I was given some awesome inspiration from another who, like me, is striving for a healthier body. Some people may wonder why I place a photo of myself on every post of this diary and others may ask why I call myself “Fat”.
I use to be the skinny girl. I could eat three times my worth and still not feel full. My best friend was so jealous of my weight that she would compare herself to me often. She even influenced another friend to help her make fun of my knees. What was wrong with my knees, anyway?
Self-image issues were never really a problem for me. As a young girl, I didn’t want to become a woman when mother nature came storming through my door. I just wanted to stay a kid forever. I was traumatized by having my period at the very young age of nine years old.
Since then, the mirror was only used to make sure I didn’t have any stains on my clothes, to pop any zits that may have sprung up overnight, to brush my teeth, and to make my hair look tidy. Sexy didn’t even fit into my vocabulary until I met my ex-husband.
I didn’t even use the scale. The last I could remember was when I graduated from high school at a healthy 130 pounds. Seven years later, and after my divorce, I discovered that I had reached an astonishing 230 pounds. My best friend laughed because I was finally heavier than her. That was when I started to obsess about my weight and try any diet I could think of at a half-hearted attempt.
Remember, self-image is not an issue for me. Therefore, I have no motivation in that. I still think of myself as the skinny girl, even when I maxed out at 249 pounds over four months ago.
I discovered a better way to remind myself as to how fat I really was. I had to place a picture of my “fat” self on each and every single post. Each time I look at that, I would think to myself, “What am I doing to my body? How can I even move around with that much weight on me? How could my husband love such an oversized woman?”
Putting that picture out there where the world and I could see it, exposed and genuine, gives me extra incentive to try harder. Some may view me as an ugly fat girl, but I really don’t care what those people think. Others may see me as a loving, caring individual who is comfortable in her own body (I like those people). Either way, this “Fat Girl” is ready to share her life with everyone.
What about the “Fat Girl”?
Anybody who knows me knows that I find humor in the most simplest and undiscovered places. “Fat Girl” came from a remark that my husband made. Richie was the opposite in his quest on self-image. His family has a genetic trait that leads to obesity. He likes to blame it on the doctor who took his tonsils out. He was a skinny kid until then, and since he has always been overweight. Kids in school use to make fun of him and call him some really ugly names. He laughs about the stories now, most of them involving him or his brother beating up some other kid for making fun of the other, but I know deep down inside he still hurts.
Recently, he discovered that his 20th class reunion is coming up in November. One day, he stated to me that he needed to “get this fat boy in shape.” I must have given a very strange look, because at that point he just busted out laughing. Each time he laughs, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside and it fills me up with joy. That very moment was the creation of this diary. I wanted to give the humorous side of being overweight, diet attempts and failures, and infertility issues. I wanted to show others that they are not alone, and that we could support each other in our quest for a happier and healthier life for ourselves and our loved ones.
I am quite proud of myself today. I weighed in and discovered that I lost that one pound I was looking forward to. I resisted the urge for candy on multiple occasions. The last ten minutes of my lunch break was excruciating. The vending machine was calling out to me, but I had managed to hold my own and walk away. Then I discovered four little delectable Dove caramel-filled chocolates on my desk courtesy of the secretary to our President. Sucking in every ounce of strength that I had left, I tucked those little treasures into my drawer; awaiting for the day that I deserve this delicious reward.
By the way, those toxic relationships were not worth keeping. I am happier now that I have people who love and support me with encouraging words of kindness and strength.
Stacy N. Elliott 